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Nick lifted his Ossoban Soul Killer to his lips and quaffed some more. During his long stay on Alpha Centauri he had heard lots of things about the Ossoban Soul Killer - all bad. As he had left the shop with his diary Nick realised that he needed something bad to help him deal with his own bad feeling. It was his hope that one would cancel out the other. These thoughts had taken him back to his encounter with absinthe in Paris. What he needed was a stiff drink, and he knew for a fact that absinthe was not available on Alpha Centauri, but Ossoban Soul Killers were. To that end Nick had bought a transatmospheric-buffering circlet and placed it around his neck. With that device he was able to visit the underwater city of the Alpha Centaurians - a place renowned for its drinking and partying. Once there it was a matter of moments to locate a place that sold OSKs. And now, five Killers later, Nick was feeling worse than ever. According to their reputations, two OSKs should have knocked him out cold, but that was the problem with having a slightly unique physiology. Being unconscious was preferable to feeling like he did. Nick glanced around. So many life forms, dancing gracefully or drinking with friends, and here he was all on his own. ‘Some female tore your heart?’ Nick turned to the barhir and shook his head. ‘No, some man.’ The Alpha Centaurian blinked hir single eye. In all the years of the Galactic Federation s/he had met a lot of different aliens, and most of them, unlike Alpha Centaurians, had two different genders. S/he was no expert, but s/he was almost certain that the two genders mated with each other and not with their own kind. Instead of getting further confused by the odd mating habits of aliens, the barhir decided to go and serve another customer. Let the strange pink-skin confuse some other being. Nick watched the hexapod swim away and shook his head. As the green phallic shaped alien drifted further away from him, the more Nick’s feeling of isolation increased. Isolation, Nick thought, how bloody accurate is that? So many thoughts were going around in his head, so much so that he was starting to get a headache. He glanced at the drink in his hand and wondered if the headache was due to that. Probably. Not used to this. Nick released the glass and watched as it floated away. While he had held it the transatmospheric-buffering shield protected the glass, but now that it was free, the glass tumbled away, the liquid within mixing with the water that filled the tavern area. Nick pushed against the bar with his feet and allowed himself to float out of the door. The sound of the wind rushing across the landscape was relentless, the constant roar making the planet of Peladon appear forbidding and inhospitable. Looking down at the stark panorama from the citadel at the apex of Mount Megeshra, King Garet was locked deep within his own thoughts. This is peace? This is what the Martians have done to my people, my planet? Peladon is only a hollow shell of what it was! He thought with bitter fury, turning his back on that image of Peladon. They must apologise for their aggression, their crimes against my people. Anything less is unacceptable. There could be no compromise on this whatsoever. To do so would make Peladon seem even weaker and ripe for attack by any other hostile and warmongering race. King Garet closed his eyes wearily for a moment. His personal representatives had made Peladon’s position perfectly clear. It was up to the Galactic Federation now, and whether they could convince the Martians to apologise. All he could do was wait, and be ready. A short, plump aide, Tershin, entered the room and waited patiently for the King to open his eyes. ‘Tershin? What is it?’ ‘A message from the Galactic Federation, your Majesty. One of their ships is en route here. They are requesting that you meet them when they arrive.’ King Garet sighed. Perhaps they were bringing good news. ‘Very well, Tershin.’ He replied, glancing again at the view of Peladon outside. ‘I’ll go.’ ‘Well, here I am sitting on the bank of the great lake. Underneath the water is the original Alpha Centauri City. I think it is time I recorded recent events but I am not sure where to begin. Oscar said I should write things down, and I suppose this is cheating a little, but the principle is the same.’ Nick paused, and looked up from his diary. The diary he had bought in Paris had been replaced on his first return visit to Alpha Centauri with an electronic one. No longer did he need to write down his thoughts, all he had to do was speak them and the words would appear on the page. It made for much more fluid prose than Nick could otherwise manage. He returned to his diary entry. ‘Actually the city below is where I first arrived, all that time ago, with the Doctor and Falex.’ Mention of Falex brought to mind images of Nick’s recent trip to Taureas II. He closed his eyes, banishing those images to the back of his mind. He had more than enough to think about as it was. ‘Only then it was the real Doctor. Not some impostor taking me on a tour of time and space pretending to the be the real McCoy.’ Nick swallowed hard and closed the diary. Making the entry was proving more difficult than he had expected. There were still traces of the OSK in his system, and he was feeling the beginnings of a hangover. He was sure that he had read once that people on Earth used to drink alcohol to help them forget their problems. Obviously a load of old tosh, since it hasn’t done me any good. Just made things seem worse. A bleeping sound interrupted Nick’s thoughts. He glanced around trying to locate its source, before he realised it was in his trouser pocket. He pulled out a small communications device, given to him by Vlaash shortly before he and the Martian priest had left New Mars on their mission for Emperor Izlyr. For a moment he looked at the gadget, wondering why it was bleeping. His slightly drunken mind was not processing the information as quickly as before - another reason to not binge on Ossoban Soul Killers again, Nick thought. He flicked a switch and a small hologram appeared in the air above the device. The hologram was of a Martian priest, the symbols on his helmet indicated that he was from the Order of Oras. Nick smiled, recognising the Martian immediately. ‘Vlaash! It had been way too long, mate.’ ‘Nick,’ Vlaash hissed. ‘This message is very urgent and important, so please do not interrupt me. We have very little time.’ The hologram turned his head from side to side, as if checking to make sure no one else was about. ‘The Honour Guard need the Doctor’s help.’ Nick’s smile faded. ‘Well, seems like you have a problem then. The Doctor is dead.’
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