Storm Harvest by Robert Perry

Author:Robert Perry [Perry, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Human-Alien Encounters, Media Tie-In, Space Opera, Science Fiction; English, Doctor Who (Fictitious Character), Archaeological Expeditions
ISBN: 9780563555773
Google: vYoNAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0563555777
Publisher: BBC Worldwide Americas
Published: 1999-06-14T07:00:00+00:00

* * *

107

The door to Garrett’s office was open. There was a smell of rank decay coming from within. The Doctor entered cautiously. The room was dark.

He groped his way to the window and opened the blinds. Electric light cut through the slatted darkness.

He turned. Next to him, sprawled dead on a table, was the alien body from the dig. Or what was left of it. Meat hung from the torso in strips.

The Doctor examined the great gouges. They were fringed with ragged toothmarks.

There was movement to his left. He sprang back from the corpse as something toppled past him and landed heavily on the floor. It was Edwin Bryce; he was stiff and dead. The Doctor stooped to examine the body. An expression of pure terror was etched into Bryce’s face.

The flesh on one of his cheeks was gone. The head was half-severed from the trunk.

The body was still warm. The Doctor’s gaze flashed quickly about the shadows. He’d have to be quick – whatever had done this to Bryce might still be here.

He began rapidly to search the room. No sign of the weapon. He opened a door at the far side of the room and peered through it.

A control panel covered one wall. The Doctor brushed the controls with his fingers. Remote engine and navigation controls for a D-class submarine. A long-range communicator.

There was a crash from the other room. A smell assaulted his nostrils. Something was in there. The Doctor could hear its harsh, animal breathing.

He stepped back through the door.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Our mysterious colony monster. How do you do?’

Brenda Mulholland stood at one of the observation ports in the perimeter wall, her entourage surrounding her. The sea was choppy, the weather was turning against them. That was all they needed.

Police Chief Bodle was talking rapidly into an intercom. He fell suddenly silent.

‘I see,’ he said gravely. ‘Co-ordinator, an SOS has been received from the Island Queen. She’s a pleasure cruiser. She’s being attacked.

These things – these... Krill – are swarming all over the ship. They’re literally tearing it to pieces.’

Brenda closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have to take these sorts of decisions. She was chief rep on a holiday world, for God’s sake.

‘There’s a queue of ships outside the harbour,’ said Judd, the harbour master. ‘They’re demanding to be let in. There’s mass panic 108

breaking out on board.’

Brenda peered at the harbour mouth. Ships jostled for position outside the repulsor field. ‘The shutters stay closed,’ she said hollowly.

Something was happening in the sea. The waters were starting to seethe and bubble. They boiled with fury

‘Sweet Mary...’ whispered the harbour master. ‘I’ve never...’

The sea boiled over. It exploded upwards at the metal wall. Krill –

hundreds, thousands of them – were hurling themselves from the water, flying towards them. The automatic laser defences kicked in. Sights swivelled, guns aligned, vicious bolts of blue lightning exploded against the frantic horde.

The Krill were clanging deafeningly off the wall. It sounded like the mother of all hailstorms. Many fell back into the sea, their talons raking the huge metal shutters.

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