"I'm sorry about your friend," CL Chadworth said, the tone of sympathy in his voice seemingly genuine as he looked down at the small body in front of his brother's feet. "But I could not have him threatening such an important investment: you. We understand a great deal about your spacecraft, but it would be so much easier to operate if we had input directly from the experts…from the horse's mouth, to use a phrase. That's why I arranged to meet you here."
SC-80 snorted at the dark irony in the man's words. I can't believe we walked blindly into this, but then again we didn't expect the bastards to have our cloaking technology. "I applaud you, Mr. Chadworth. But, if I may ask, how did you know?"
Charles smiled. "I have my contacts in the government…they told me what the Empress was planning in Bulgaria, and so I used one of my contacts to pass along an updated objective to the spy Mugabe. He thought the government would award him an extra bonus for bringing you out of the fortress alive; in fact, it was my company that offered the reward. I knew you were there, after your rescue from London six months ago, and I was honestly afraid we had lost you in the gas attack." He shook his head. "Typical of our new government…always shooting itself in the foot in its haste to make an example of some poor sod. Anyway, the soldiers found the body of the spy…clearly killed by something other than gas…and I dare say I allowed myself some hope that we might yet meet. And then today, when a fire alert just conveniently happened to go off in the same facility where we were holding your ship, well…it had to be you, either coming to claim her or else destroy her to keep her out of our hands. And so here we are."
"Now what?"
"Now I propose a deal," Chadworth said calmly. "You help me, I help you, and we all come out very wealthy. There are the usual incentives for you: money, power, women of your own species…but that's just the beginning. The fact is that trying to control your people is more trouble than it's worth; join us, and we might be able to make some progress in improving your status. I can't promise anything, of course, but I am not boasting when I say I have the government's ear. You help me, I help you…as I said."
SC-80 could no longer suppress a mocking laugh. Even if I believed you, I'd rather burn in hell. His grip tightened on his pistol. "And if we refuse?"
CL Chadworth sighed deeply and glanced at his brother. "Vincent?"
It was difficult to tell precisely what happened until it was over. Faster than anyone could react, Vincent Chadworth had lunged forward and snatched up the Doctor in a single fluid movement, the long blade pressing against RP-18's throat. Stepping back to where he had been standing a moment before, confident that his opponents would not fire for fear of hitting their comrade, Vincent smiled as he answered with complete calm: "We need this man to unlock the ship, the one the spy told us was the scientist. As for you two, well, you're expendable. So I'll make this easy. Put down your guns…or die." Vincent was bent almost double, his arm wrapped around the Doctor's neck; the sight of a grown man putting an Oompa-Loompa in a headlock might have been comical, had it not been for the blade that threatened to draw itself across 18's throat.
Charles' gun was now pointed at the Captain's head. "A decision, sir, if you please." SC-80's mind was racing…he was keenly aware of 101 beside him, pistol drawn, ready to go down shooting…There were too many soldiers, far too many, but fortunately not all of them could fire thanks to the way the Chadworth brothers had positioned themselves…If we could just get a split-second diversion…and then the Captain got exactly what he wanted. The Doctor looked straight into the Captain's eyes…and winked. RP-18's hand reached up to the front of Vincent Chadworth's tactical vest and, when it came away, it left behind behind something circular with a pattern of red lights…
The charge exploded. Intended to blast through reinforced door locks, it penetrated Kevlar and flesh easily, doing the damage of a point-blank shotgun blast. Vincent Chadworth had realized that something was amiss, reflexively beginning to straighten up just as the device fired. All SC-80 had wanted was a split-second…and he had it. Charles was turning involuntarily toward his brother, obviously confused; the soldiers hesitated, not knowing whether their leader had been injured or had just stood up from decapitating the prisoner. RP-18 burst free of his captor's arms, aged knees and stubborn joints working flawlessly as he charged toward the ship with a thoroughly unnecessary "RUN!" Vincent Chadworth, however, had one last bit of life left, and the Doctor remained unaware of the knife hurtling end-over-end through the air behind him until it embedded itself between his shoulder blades, nearly impaling him with the force of its master's final throw. As he sprinted for the ship, firing backward at the hated face of CL Chadworth, the Captain saw RP-18 fall in his peripheral vision. The shock of the Doctor's death was overwhelmed, however, by a single instant of pure horror: The Doctor had the note. We're done for. But then the Captain remembered, even as his hand reflexively shot to the pocket of his vest: I have it. I took it from him, after 48 handed it to him. And so the Captain kept moving…the mission was all that mattered now, and it was still a go.