by Doctor Who
‘Good role model, then.’
‘He’s the best,’ said Dennel fiercely. ‘When the police caught me, he gave himself up to try and get me off. They stitched him up, of course.
Stitched us both up.’
‘What happened to him?’
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‘They put him on Justice Epsilon. He writes sometimes, but. . . ’ He shrugged, wiped his nose. ‘I miss him.’
Rose nodded. ‘I know how tough it is, growing up without a dad.
But at least my mum’s always been there for me.’ She smiled. ‘Right there in my face yelling, most of the –’
She broke off as the console suddenly parped very loudly.
PILOT CONFIRM was the message on every screen, flashing red and black. PILOT CONFIRM.
‘What’s that about, d’you reckon?’ wondered Rose. ‘Confirm what?’
‘I dunno.’ Dennel looked at her. ‘Should we see if the pilot’s awake now?’
‘Yeah,’ she said as the console parped again. ‘And quickly.’
Riz Mani slipped back to her cell after breakfast so no one would see her crying.
The breakfast hall had been filled with the whispers and rumours that Rose Tyler was gone – shipped out as quickly as she arrived. She caused too much trouble, some said. She’d even broken out of solitary.
Now she was being sent to one of the really bad prisons on Justice Gamma. Or off to build pyramids and row galleys on Alpha. Some said she might even be sent to the plantations on Epsilon. But all agreed, nowhere on Justicia would be able to hold her.
To the inmates of Detention Centre Six, Rose Tyler was a legend.
But to Riz, she’d been company. The only person she’d seen in years whose smile was real and warm, who had some life about her. Now she’d been taken away, just like that, and Riz was all alone again.
Except, she found, as she turned from her mirror, for Kazta standing in the doorway to her cell.
Riz grabbed her henna paintbrush and swiped the air with the pointed end. ‘Get out.’
Kazta ignored her, looked at Rose’s unmade bed. ‘So Tyler’s really gone?’
‘You’ve got eyes, ain’t you?’
‘Yeah. But they can play tricks on you.’ Kazta stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
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‘I’m warning you –’
Kazta strode forwards and twisted the little brush from Riz’s grip.
Then she held on to Riz’s hand.
The big girl was shaking and she looked to be on the verge of tears.
‘Did Tyler say anything to you about the monsters?’ hissed Kazta.
‘Only they’re real. I’ve seen one. It lives inside Blanc.’
‘You’re joking,’ said Riz. ‘Or you’re crazy.’
But she was watching Kazta’s eyes carefully. She’d seen crazy eyes before; Sally, her last cellmate, had them. And she’d seen frightened eyes, too; in her reflection, most days, when there was no one about.
She could tell the difference.
And a chill went through her as she saw that Kazta’s eyes were terrified.
Rose and Dennel entered the smoky cabin to find the pilot was still slumped in a heap.
‘How hard did you hit him?’ Rose complained.
The parp changed to an intermittent beeping. The message on the screens changed so it now read: CONTROL LOCK COUNTDOWN BEGINNING. PILOT CONFIRM OVERRIDE. She noticed that a metal pad at the side of the console, similar to the palmprint plates beside the doors, was glowing a warning red.
80. . . 79. . . 78. . .
Rose bit her lip. ‘Now I get it. The ship’s computer must realise the pilot’s been out of the room for a while, that he’s not touched anything.’
Dennel swore. ‘They’re going to lock down the controls. We won’t be able to fly anywhere, we’ll just drift till they come to pick us up!’
‘Sitting ducks.’ Rose dashed out and grabbed hold of the pilot by his wrists. ‘God, he weighs a ton. Give me a hand with him – so he can give us a hand.’ She heaved as hard as she could. ‘If we can get his palm print on to that plate, maybe it’ll. . . ’
Her voice died in her throat. The pilot’s hands were coming away, the skin stretching like elastic. Rose let go and they slapped back into shape.
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Dennel whimpered.
‘Oh God. . . ’ Gingerly, Rose crept forwards and parted the pilot’s bushy hair.
A fleshy furrow ran from the back of his neck to the top of his forehead – where a golden zipper peeped out.
‘It’s another monster,’ Dennel whimpered. ‘It could wake up any moment.’
Rose nodded. ‘And we’re trapped up here with it – with nowhere to run.’
In the cockpit, the bleeps blasted down each passing precious second as the countdown continued: 61. . . 60. . . 59. . .
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‘What – what do we do?’ stammered Dennel as the beeping of the shuttle’s computer went on. His fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat. ‘What the hell do we do?’
‘We don’t panic for a start,’ said Rose grimly. ‘OK, we might wake him by moving him. But maybe we can shift a bit of him.’
‘What are you on about?’
It occurred to her that Dennel’s question was the sort of thing she’d ask of the Doctor. She wondered with a pang of guilt if he ever found her so annoying.
But it was the computer’s bleeping that was really driving her mad: 47. . . 46. . .
‘Do you have a knife?’ she asked him.
‘No. What are you going to do, slit its throat?’
‘Don’t be so gross! All right, give me your lighter.’ He passed it to her. It felt warm and slippery in her hand as she ground the flints and the oily flame blossomed. ‘I hope this works. . . and that I don’t throw up!’
She pulled on the pilot’s wrist and the skin sucked upwards like PVC. She held the flame to it and, after a few seconds, it started to 107
blacken and tear.
‘ That’s gonna wake it up!’ hissed Dennel. ‘It’ll be in agony!’
‘This is just a disguise, its real skin is underneath. You must have got lucky when you whacked it. . . ’ Rose frowned in concentration as she continued her grisly task. ‘How long have we got?’
‘It’s 33. . . 32. . . ’
Rose’s fingers were reddened and stinging. Smoke blew into her eyes. Then a stench of bad breath hit her and she almost gagged.
‘Ugh!’ She looked back at Dennel, her eyes streaming. ‘That would choke a donkey!’
‘Look out!’ he hissed.
The hand she was pulling on suddenly inflated like a fleshy balloon, then ripped open as the huge Slitheen claw burst through it. The flesh on the arm tore too as the alien flesh beneath swelled up and outwards.
‘Omigod, omigod, omigod!’ Rose skittered away. ‘Must be the flame, I’ve made the gas exchange go funny.’
‘The what?’
19. . . 18. . .
‘That’s how it crams its real shape into a human body.’ She snatched up the pilot’s hand from where it lay on the floor like a ripped rubber glove, and hurried over to the bleeping controls. ‘The compression field creates a gas exchange that. . . ’ God, now she was even sounding like the Doctor. ‘Never mind.’ She slapped the scrap of skin down against the metal pad at the side of the console.
13. . . 12. . . COUNTDOWN ABORTED.
‘Yes!’ cried Rose.
‘You did it!’ Dennel grinned at her and grabbed her in a clumsy hug.
‘I didn’t do it,’ she said, wriggling free a little awkwardly. ‘ He did.’
She dangled the scrap of human disguise by one deflated finger. ‘Palm Pilot. Get it?’
From the puzzled frown on Dennel’s face, she guessed he didn’t.
And from the Slitheen’s sudden roar, she supposed it just didn’t think the joke was very funny.
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Rose and Dennel jumped and yelled as the last scraps of the human out
fit ripped away and the Slitheen was revealed in all its hideous, glistening glory. It shambled up, its enormous bulk filling the gang-way between the seats, its oversized claws scraping and shredding the fabric on the chairs.
Rose lunged for the pad by the door, knocking Dennel aside. She slapped the scrap of wet palm against the metal and the door slid swiftly shut, shielding the monster from view.
Then the shuttle lurched violently to one side and she was thrown against the wall. ‘What’s the ship doing? What’s the ship doing?’ she gasped.
‘I think it’s me doing it!’ She’d knocked him against the console, his back was crushing buttons and switches.
‘Well, get off She quickly helped him down. ‘What are you even doing there?’
‘You shoved me here!’ he complained. ‘That thing – is it the same monster who was inside Blanc?’
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘There might be loads of them.’
The shuttle lurched again and Rose’s stomach with it. COURSE DEVIATION, was the message on the screen. INPUT PARAMETERS. INPUT
PARAMETERS.
‘If I throw you on there again, do you think it might put things right?’ said Rose wearily.
‘We’ve changed course,’ said Dennel. ‘We’re flying blind!’
A smashing, crashing noise started up behind them, as the Slitheen began to knock down the door.
The Doctor had wasted no time, and in the gravity workshop, the core of the amplifier was already under construction. With a mixture of deft hand signals and encouraging noises he had directed his team to different tasks, and the work seemed to be going well.
Nesshalop was sitting in a slowly spreading puddle, constructing a series of power focusers. Yahoomer was constructing a delicate 109
crystal-core lattice, his four trunks twisting and unfurling like sea creatures among sparkling coral. Blista was checking and rechecking a billion improbable equations, making sure they would hold true.
‘Nice one, mate.’ The Doctor patted the reptile on his knobbly back.
‘You know, it’s criminal that you lot are inside.’
Sensing someone behind him he turned to see Flowers. She was white as snow, her pink glasses drawing attention to her red-rimmed eyes, and she was holding the gravometer in her hand.
‘Here to tell Blista about the bugs in his clever little box?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wouldn’t just yet.’ He took it from her and started scanning the Justicia system. ‘My sonic screwdriver would be useful too. Any chance I can have that back?’
‘I’ll. . . I’ll ask Consul Issabel. When I next see her.’
‘Thanks. Oh, and we’ll be connecting the calibrating crystal into the central core later on – it’d be much easier in zero gravity.’
‘Of course. We can generate a local zero-gravity field.’ She snorted softly.
‘We could generate one all through the SCAT-house if we wanted to.’
‘Aha. Thought the gravity was way too Earth-normal for a little planet like this. So, you fake it!’
‘I think it would be nice sometimes,’ Flowers said quietly, ‘not to feel so weighed down.’ She sighed, made an effort to pull herself together. ‘Right. Give me a full briefing on what you’ve been doing this morning.’
‘Oh, just bossing people about, getting stuff done. . . ’ He watched her closely. ‘How about you? Boss giving you a hard time?’
‘I asked you for a progress report, Doctor.’
‘Well, that answers my question. And no sign of the Slitheen?’
She turned away. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘While that answers that one.’ The gravometer beeped and shunted figures down its screen. The Doctor nodded to himself. ‘Thought so.
You want a chat? Fine. That side room’s free.’
‘I give the orders,’ she insisted, then faltered. ‘Er, yes. We’ll go in that side room.’
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He followed her inside. ‘Well, Senator Flowers, the work’s going well. It should be a doddle. Especially since we’re being helped.’
She frowned. ‘Helped?’
‘Yeah. By forces unknown.’ He gave her a big grin and held up the gravometer. ‘There’s no bug in this. I checked this morning on the workshop scanners. The orbits of the planets in this system have been changed.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said Flowers.
He passed her back the gravometer. ‘These are the real-time positions of those planets. And if you check them against the orbits you calculated for that diagram of yours two years back, you’ll see there’s a big difference.’
Flowers studied the figures. ‘There must be a fault. . . ’
‘Either that or some massive gravitational force has messed with the orbit of every planet in this system. You know how the orbits were almost perfect circles? They’ve become entirely perfect. Justice Alpha now orbits at precisely 100 million miles from the suns, right the way round. Justice Beta at exactly 150 million miles. And on it goes.’
‘Not enough difference to trigger a climate change. . . ’
‘No. Although Gamma and Delta have got a little way to go till they make a perfect circle. Whatever’s doing this hasn’t finished moving them yet.’
‘But this is unbelievable,’ said Flowers. ‘What – what about us, on Justice Prime?’
‘Oh, us.’ The Doctor took a step closer. ‘We’re different. We’re being pushed further away from the suns. A fair old way, too – maybe fifteen, twenty million miles? I can’t tell you exactly cos it’s still going on. Under your noses. Under your very feet. And none of you have noticed – not even your bean counters on Justice Delta.’
‘It – it must be some kind of a natural phenomenon.’
‘Whatever it is, it’s a godsend for us lot on the fast gravity project.
It’s gonna make everything easier, more efficient, more effective.
We’re now so far from the other planets that we can harness and boost their energy from here without worrying about being caught up in the effect at all. And we can create those warp-holes in space you want so 111
badly.’ He fixed her with a look. ‘You know, it’s almost as if someone had this brilliant idea to use the planets in this system as a centrifuge ahead of us. And they’ve been working towards it for some time.’
‘In which case. . . ’ She stared back at him. ‘We’re just finishing things off for them.’
‘Or making it possible for them to take their work to the next level.’
‘What do you mean?’
He smiled suddenly. ‘When can I expect Rose to arrive?’
‘A few hours,’ said Flowers, distracted now. ‘Excuse me. I – I think I need to speak to Consul Issabel.’
‘And if you could ask her about the sonic screwdriver. . . ’ he called after her. Then he sighed. He should get back to work. Not real work, of course – but his own little project.
The planets were being dragged off course. That would require some pretty heavy-duty equipment. Lodestones in space. But where could such lodestones be hidden? They’d have to be huge, and where could you possibly hide them without attracting suspicion?
One, or rather, several possible answers occurred to the Doctor at once. But the implications weren’t nice.
He took the gravometer and plugged it into the workshop’s computer bank. He stabbed at the buttons with some reluctance – almost afraid to see if he was right.
‘We’re out of control,’ shouted Rose, as the shuttle bucked and swung like a fish on the end of a line. She and Dennel were thrown this way and that, but the heavy pounding of the Slitheen fist on the door kept up steadily regardless. The uncertain, protesting climb of the ship’s engines didn’t come close to drowning it out. Not yet.
‘Look!’ yelled Dennel, clinging on to the pilot’s seat. ‘Where did that come from?’
As Rose wedged herself between the console and the wall, she saw an emerald plan
et had swung into view through the cockpit window, frighteningly close. ‘Maybe we won’t crash into it. Maybe we’ll get tugged into its orbit.’
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‘Great. And then our troubles really begin.’ Dennel gulped. Behind them the door had started to buckle inwards. ‘The big bad wolf’s ready to blow our house down.’
‘He may not get the chance,’ muttered Rose. ‘It may not be standing for much longer.’ She saw the scratches of dull cloud on the world’s surface, the vast craggy continents beneath it, rushing closer at sickening speed.
Then finally the door was smashed open. The Slitheen stood framed in the doorway, the great, sticky oval of its head swinging this way and that. It looked like some terrible giant staring round for children to eat.
‘What a lovely stink of adrenalin,’ it declared in its grating, gravelly voice. The black saucer eyes narrowed as it fixed on Dennel, grabbed hold of him in a single claw and slammed him up against the roof.
‘You hit my head, I’ll hit yours,’ the creature hissed.
‘Don’t kill him!’ Rose yelled over the rising roar of the engines. ‘You haven’t got time! We were going to open that door anyway – we’re going to crash and you’re the only one who can stop it!’
The Slitheen stared at the emerald mass on the screen. Then it swore, tossed Dennel aside and bundled itself into the pilot’s seat, its three gruesome fingers flicking over the controls.
‘You hopeless, spineless little human fools,’ it gurgled, sparing Rose a malevolent look. ‘And you’re supposed to be the smart one. I’m not allowed to hurt you.’
Rose frowned. ‘What?’
‘I’m smart too,’ whimpered Dennel.
‘Shut it,’ the Slitheen snarled. The ship had dipped down through the cloud cover. Detail was starting to emerge from the shapeless olive green of the ground far below them. ‘Just hope I can save our skins. . . ’
The engines got louder, the rattling and bucking grew worse. Great, thought Rose. My life depends on a bug-eyed killer alien monster. Who may or may not have passed its driving test.
