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able to do that.'
The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. 'Which is?'
'Protective camouflage, Brigadier.'
'But I don't see '
'It's not a matter of seeing, Brigadier. It's a matter of smelling.' He
smiled. 'To be exact, smelling of roses and cloves.'
Twenty-Eight
At the first sound, Sergeant Benton flung himself flat on to the
damp earth. He didn't need to tell his men to do the same. Everything
bigger than a squirrel that moved in the wood had been an alien, and
each one had been more difficult to kill than the last. The squad had
been forced back, step by step, from Henley Wood across the road to
Marsh Wood; now, after perhaps a dozen encounters, they were
almost in Marshstead, two miles from UNIT HQ.
Soon they were going to run out of ammunition.
This time it sounded like a large force. Benton could hear the
regular, multiple tread of boots on gravel, growing louder by the
minute. Obviously they were on the Marshstead bridleway.
He frowned. The aliens hadn't bothered much with using paths up
till now; and they hadn't moved in large groups either.
Suddenly he heard a voice muttering, 'What d'you reckon the place
is burned down when we get there?'
A human voice, speaking in a human way.
Benton glanced across at Marks, who nodded.
'I'm going to take a look,' said Benton. He thought: steady on, you
can't be sure, that copy of the Doctor could speak.
He moved as silently as he could across the soil, up a shallow slope
towards the hedge that bordered the path. The patrol on the other side
was almost level with him now.
He peered through the hedge, saw movement.
Camouflage jackets. A glimpse of a grenade belt. A cape, a
magenta shirt.
A cape ?
The Doctor!
Another copy, thought Benton. It had to be.
At the same moment, he smelt roses and cloves. He levelled his
gun, took aim through a gap in the hedge.
Then he heard a voice: 'My missus, she says I ought to get out of
the Army, like '
Benton relaxed, grinned to himself. Aliens weren't likely to
grumble like that! He stood up, saw the Doctor, the Brigadier, and a
platoon of regulars.
Heads turned, guns were raised. The Brigadier looked round, raised
an eyebrow. 'Benton!' he called. 'What the blazes are you doing?'
'Be careful, Brigadier.' The Doctor's voice. 'It might not be Benton
at all.'
Benton turned, stared at the Doctor. 'Of course it's me '
'Take your cap off, Sergeant,' said the Doctor quietly.
'My cap?' Benton was bewildered. Then he remembered the Xarax
copies, their clothes cracking with the rest of their bodies as they fell.
He took off his cap, tossed it to the Doctor, who felt the cloth for a
moment, then nodded.
'Okay, Brigadier.'
Only then did Benton turn to his commanding officer. He was just
in time to see the Brigadier lowering his revolver and putting it back
in its holster.
They stared at each other for a moment. After a while, Benton said,
'Good to see you alive again, sir.'
Jo peered into the windows of the cafe where Vincent's resistance
movement had its headquarters. There was no movement, no sound.
She pushed at the door, went inside. The red check tablecloths were
spread across the tables, neat, clean. Salt and pepper shakers stood in
the middle of the tables. Nothing stirred, except a few flies buzzing
round the ceiling.
'Hello,' called Jo. 'Hello! I'm human! I need help!'
Silence.
'I come from Vincent Tayid! Al Tayid!'
A fly buzzed angrily against the window. Automatically, Jo began
to look around for a cup and piece of paper so that she could catch it
and set it free. She even went over to the counter, to see if she could
see a teacup behind it.
Then she realized what she was doing, sat down and began to laugh
hysterically.
When she'd laughed long enough, she stood up, put her hands on
her hips, and muttered, 'I've got to do something.' She peered out into
the empty street, almost hoping that someone or something would go
past. She'd twice seen the Xarax 'police' since she'd started running;
both times they'd seemed to ignore her. Either tracking down stray
humans wasn't a high priority at the moment which didn't seem
likely, considering what had happened to Zalloua or
Jo looked at her swollen hands. They smelled of roses and cloves.
Of Xarax. And her feet were swollen too: she could barely walk in
her shoes, the prison officer's shoes that had once been almost too big
for her.
good good to be honey honey sweet sweet honey dancing to be
honey to be sweet dancing the code
It was there. She had to do something about it. The Doctor wasn't
around to cure her. She was going to have to find the nest, somehow.
Get to the queen, and control her, as Zalloua had hoped to do.
But how?
She sat down on one of the chairs, put her chin in her hands. There
had to be a way.
Then she thought of it. If she smelled of Xarax, if she knew, or felt,
what the Xarax were doing, then
Except that it might not work. And if it didn't work, she was going
to end up dead.
No worse than dead.
sweet sweet to be good good honey honey to be dancing
She got up, walked out of the cafe, and sniffed the air.
honey honey good good sweet to find honey dancing to find
good good sweet sweet honey dancing
After a few moments, she chose a direction and started down the
street. She remembered what Vincent had said about her: 'You have
the luck.'
Well, the luck had better not desert her now.
The Brigadier glanced over his shoulder to where Sergeant Osgood
was spraying the last of Benton's men with the Xarax scent on the
move, because there was no time to stop. There were about forty-five
minutes left before Captain Oakley's deadline; but the Brigadier knew
that the Marine had been guessing. For all he knew Al Haraf might
already have fallen and the Americans and the Xarax might be
lobbing nuclear warheads around the Gulf of Kebiria.
It wasn't a pleasant thought.
He looked ahead to where the Doctor was strolling along, looking
up at the crowns of the trees above him for all the world as if he was
enjoying a quiet country walk.
'Ah, Brigadier,' he said, without turning round. 'Have you noticed
any cows in the fields?'
The Brigadier frowned. 'I beg your pardon?'
'Cows sheep and there used to be some horses.' The Doctor
pointed. 'Over there.' He turned and looked at the Brigadier, a serious
expression on his face. 'It looks as if the nest has been growing more
quickly than we thought.'
The Brigadier considered this for a moment, frowned. 'Are you
quite sure we shouldn't call up that armoured brigade? I could have
them here in five minutes '
'Really, Brigadier. How many times do I have to explain it? If we
use any kind of vehicle the Xarax will know straight away we're not
from the nest and they'll attack us. Do you imagine they'll think diesel
fumes are a nest pheromone? Believe me, this is the only way in.
And I need the nest intact, not blown to pieces by your men.'
The Brigadier shook his head. 'If you say so, Doctor.'
'Sir!' said Benton, pointing forward.
The Brigadier looked, saw UNIT HQ about half a mile away
through a gap in the trees. Saw the ring of men Xarax copies of
men, he corrected himself surrounding it.
'Doesn't look too promising,' he muttered.
But the Doctor smiled. 'Just carry on, Brigadier. Walk in as if you
owned the place.'
The Brigadier thought about this for a moment. 'I do own the
place,' he said. 'In a manner of speaking.'
'Well, then. Walk in like you usually do.'
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