by Doctor Who
Another one!'
Kate glared up at him. 'Another one?'
Animatronic synchro-thesp. Basically a very clever, very advanced kind of theme-park exhibit.' He leaned down and spoke very quietly to her. 'She's not real. None of them are.'
Kate was astonished. She had done her reading-up on the refurbishments to the latest Zones in Hyperville, but nothing had quite prepared her for the wealth of detail in the Experiences, nor the level of sophistication which Sir Gerry's technical people had obviously put into their development.
'Right,' said Kate. 'So... what do we do?'
'I imagine we have a little chat,' said the Doctor. 'Right, your Maj?'
The Queen's head turned to look at Kate, then back towards the Doctor again. Answer me at once, or I shall lose my patience!'
'Sparking,' said the Doctor softly, and his eyes widened.
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'What?' Kate looked up at him, confused.
'Sparking! Get down!'
The Doctor pulled Kate down into the snow, under the cover of a fallen tree-trunk.
A second later the Queen, eyes glowing red, leapt from the sleigh with astonishing agility, booted feet landing with a firm plump and a shower of snow. Kate, heart pounding, heard a sound. It was like a gunshot, but hollower, stranger - and a second later a bolt of crimson fire sizzled through the air and hit the tree beside them. Pink smoke billowed from the artificial trunk as it burned.
She looked at the Doctor in horror. 'Animatronic synchro-thesp, right?'
'Right.' He had put his glasses on and was peering cautiously over the tree-trunk.
'Doctor, I hate to be a pedant, but that thing is off the sledge and moving.'
'I had noticed.' The Doctor's answer was curt, grim, with his teeth clamped together.
'Well?'
Kate could hear the Queen's boots thudding on the fake snow. She looked up into the twinkling lights - LED lights, she assumed, high up there in a domed canopy - and hoped desperately that her life wasn't about to end in a daft, Christmassy Hell, at the hands of a demented robot.
Kate risked a glance up, over the Doctor's shoulders.
The animatronic Queen had her hands out in front of her. She looked as if she was feeling her way in the air.
'Interesting,' murmured the Doctor. 'Must be working on heat and motion. Visual receptors aren't properly aligned yet.'
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'What are you talking about?' Kate hissed.
He looked at her and grinned. 'Keep still and try not to sweat. And when I say run,' he added, 'run. Head for the trees.'
'And then what? Look for a lamp post?'
Kate was being facetious, but the Doctor beamed. 'Good idea!' His hand bunched some of the snow into a ball the size of a grapefruit. 'Ready?'
Kate swallowed hard, trying to ignore the shaking and tingling sensation in her body.
For a second there was no sound but the thudding of the Queen's boots on the snow.
Then the Doctor tensed.
'Run!' he ordered, and in the same instant he threw his snowball at a nearby rock. The snowball splattered into chunks, and an instant later a sizzling bolt of red light hit the rock, smashing it into smoking shards.
Kate glimpsed it as she ran, blindly, into the trees, gasping, her breath angry and chilled, her heart thumping wildly. She screamed as she lost her footing and fell, but the Doctor was close behind her and grabbed her arm, helping her up.
'Keep looking,' he said grimly. 'We've got to find a way to get out of here.' As he spoke, he was looking around, and picked up a flat, broad chunk of icy rock from the ground.
'What are you going to do with that?' Kate asked.
'Something clever, I hope.' He grabbed her arm again.
'Keep running!'
'But what is it?' Kate gasped as they hurtled through the trees. 'Has it got a gun, or something?'
'I've got a nasty suspicion,' the Doctor said, glancing over his shoulder. He pulled a small compass-like object out of his
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pocket. 'Come on, come on. Need some energy readings...
Ahhh! Molto bene! There! Come on!'
Zigzagging through the trees, the Doctor ran, seemingly taking a random path. And there, suddenly, to Kate's astonishment, was something else in the snow in front of them - as tall as a tree, but not a tree. Black, metallic, gleaming. An old-fashioned Victorian lamp post.
'What did I tell you?' The Doctor gave Kate a triumphant grin.
'Doctor!' Kate glanced nervously over her shoulder.
For a second, she and the Doctor turned together to look.
The Queen was running through the forest.
Kate saw her blank, white face, her cloak streaming out behind her and her arms and legs moving with the firm, steady rhythm of a distance runner. She was heading straight for them.
And there was something wrong with her hand—
'OK. Go forward. Quickly!'
Kate stepped in the direction where the Doctor was pointing, into the cover of some denser undergrowth.
She moved forwards, realising that the chill was abating and the undergrowth around her was masking a tunnel, a man-made shaft with smooth sides. She stepped forwards and found herself up against a soft, plastic divider. She pushed—
—and, after staggering through a short tunnel, she emerged blinking into the lights of Hyperville.
She was in the Grand Atrium of the FunGlobe, with the huge, segmented glass dome stretching over her head and the great, sweeping stairs of the Central Exhibition dominating the marble-floored space. People milled around, eating,
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drinking and buying postcards, voices echoing upwards into the cathedral-like space, oblivious to her.
Kate looked backwards. 'Doctor!' she called. Then, more loudly, 'Doctor!'
The Doctor burst out of the tunnel, backwards. 'Get everyone out of the area,' he told her.
'What?' Kate looked confused.
'Clear the area! Now!'
People at the nearby restaurant tables and shop entrances were looking curiously at Kate and the Doctor, muttering.
For a moment, Kate was flustered - but only for a moment.
She could see two security men on the stairs, clocked one of them answering something on his headpiece and saw them racing down towards her and the Doctor.
High above them, a swooping Oculator saw everything.
In his office, Sir Gerry was drinking champagne with Paul Kendrick and Shaneeqi, looking out from the picture window onto the thronged malls below.
Miss Devonshire, immaculate as ever in her red jacket and skirt and her rimless glasses, stood slightly apart with her hands neatly folded.
'Impressive place, Sir Gerry,' said Paul, nodding.
Sir Gerry beamed. I’m glad you think so, lad. Grown extensively over the last few years, of course. A lot of it's thanks to Max and Miss Devonshire and some spot-on development at Carson Polymers.'
I know about them,' said Paul. 'We got shares in them, I think.' He
had tucked
his mirror-shades into his
breast-pocket, revealing intense, sea-blue eyes with a penetrating stare.
I wanna see the Zone,' said Shaneeqi, like an eager child.
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She looked up at Sir Gerry, opening her big brown eyes wide. 'Can I see the Zone?"
'Yes, of course, I—'
Sir Gerry was distracted by a winking light on the panel on his vast desk. He glowered at Miss Devonshire, nodded.
Miss Devonshire stabbed at a button.
'Yes?' she said, then, hearing the reply in her earpiece,
'Yes, I'll tell him. Mr Carson for you, Sir Gerry.'
Sir Gerry looked over in irritation as Max Carson's face appeared on the hidden screen on the oak-panelling. 'Max, what the 'eck's going on? I told you I didn't want disturbing!'
&nb
sp; 'Everything is under control,' said Max smoothly. 'Small security matter.'
Sir Gerry frowned. 'You sure?'
'Absolutely, sir. Everything is in hand.'
Sir Gerry puffed out his cheeks and made a small gesture of apology towards Paul Kendrick and Shaneeqi.
Unseen by Sir Gerry, Miss Devonshire gave a cold, crisp smile.
Kate ran to the nearest information-point and flipped her Access All Areas pass in front of the electronic eye on top of the cylinder. 'Kate Maguire. Get me the public address.
Now!'
There was a brief whirring sound, and a click. Then a soft voice said, 'Address System enabled.'
Kate leaned into the information-point and spoke, hearing her own voice reverberating around the Atrium, amplified a thousandfold. 'Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to ask you to clear the area immediately, please.
Clear the area quickly and quietly. We have, ah, we have a gas leak in the building. Please evacuate the area by the nearest exit. Thank you.'
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Grumbling, looking at each other and shrugging as if they didn't quite believe it, people were grabbing bags, making their way to the exits.
'OK?' Kate shouted to the Doctor.
He was backing away from the snowy-white entrance to the WinterZone, holding on to the shiny wedge of ice-rock he had procured.
'Five seconds,' he said. 'It'll be out. I didn't have time to secure the door.'
The security men were there beside them. 'Back away, miss,' said one of them, and levelled his sub-machine gun at the Doctor's head. 'Sir, put your hands above your head and get down on the floor!'
'Don't be stupid!' snapped the Doctor. 'Get back! All of you get back!'
'Sir, I'm warning you—'
There was a crashing sound from the entrance to the WinterZone. Then the doors to the tunnel flew open, and a second later the Snow Queen, eyes blazing red, stalked from the cavernous opening...
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Kate saw the security man's eyes widen and his jaw drop open.
'I said get back!' the Doctor ordered. 'You as well, Kate!'
People were screaming, now, and running for the exits.
Tables were upturned, postcard racks scattered, crockery smashed in the stampede.
The Snow Queen raised her arm. She pointed at the Doctor, as if accusing him of something.
As Kate watched, she saw the Snow Queen's ice-white fingers drop away where they joined the hand.
In the same moment, the hollow nozzle inside the Queen's hand seemed to explode with pink smoke. A dazzling slice of red light cut across the Atrium towards the Doctor.
Like a fencer parrying the blow, the Doctor put his hand up, catching the beam with the plastic ice and reflecting it straight back at the Snow Queen.
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The beam slammed into her face, blowing the head and crown to smithereens, scattering twisted fragments across the nearby cafe area. The security men dropped to their knees and, somewhat belatedly, fired concentrated bursts of bullets into the Snow Queen's stomach. The Doctor winced, dropping the charred plastic.
The headless Queen, smoke pouring from her shattered neck, tottered on her booted feet and pitched slowly forward onto the marbled floor.
There was silence.
The Doctor let out a breath and picked up the burnt remains of the wedge of plastic, pulling a surprised, rueful face. 'I wondered if that would work,' he said quietly, dusting down his jacket.
Coughing and choking in the pungent smoke, her heart thumping, Kate ran forward. 'Doctor, are you all right?'
'Never better!' The Doctor gave her a reassuring grin.
'Well, I say never better. I mean, fine. Well, I say fine—'
'You mean tolerable, yes.' Kate was already getting used to cutting to the chase with the Doctor. 'Please, Doctor, what was that thing?'
The Doctor didn't look at her. His face and voice grim, he said, 'I'll tell you later. Come on.'
He and Kate turned together, and found the two security men levelling their guns at them.
'Doctor,' said Kate nervously, 'I think these guys have other ideas.' She suddenly spotted a woman with high cheekbones and short grey hair, dressed in the black security uniform and cap, striding across the Atrium. She had a pistol rather than a sub-machine gun, and walked, Kate thought, with an air of authority. 'And her,' she added nervously.
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'Right!' exclaimed the Doctor. 'You in charge here?' He offered his hand to the woman, with a big smile.
'Captain Tess Tilbrook,' said the woman. 'Head of Security.' She didn't return the handshake. 'Perhaps you'd like to come with me, Doctor? Sir Gerry would like a little chat.'
'What about me?' asked Kate nervously.
Tess Tilbrook nodded. 'You as well, Miss Maguire.'
'Oh, no, no, don't involve her,' said the Doctor hastily. I mean, she's a Trainee. Aren't you? Things to do, places to go. I expect she's giving a hundred per cent.'
'A hundred and ten,' said Kate, with a quick smile.
A hundred and ten. There you go.' The Doctor's smile vanished as he did a double take. A hundred and ten? You can't give a hundred and ten per cent, Kate. Per cent. It means out of a hundred. You can't give a hundred and ten out of a hundred.' He tilted his head. Although, if you were a Magnesian Centipod... Ten extra tentacles,' he said aside to Kate. 'Only for use in the summer. They do a lot of charity work, the Magnesian Centipods. Good people.'
If Tess Tilbrook was bothered by the Doctor's prattling, she didn't show it. She motioned towards the glass lift.
This way, please. Both of you. Sir Gerry wants to see you.'
They entered the lift - Tess, then the Doctor and Kate, then the two guards. The glass doors began to close.
'Ground Floor,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'Wigs and Haberdashery, Kitchenware and Foods. Going up!'
Kate shot him a wary look. She was beginning to wonder if she had made the right decision in associating with this strange man. But he seemed to understand the terrifying experience they had just had - and for that reason alone, it was worth sticking with him.
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As the lift ascended, Kate had a grandstand view of more security guards arriving to carry away the smoking, shattered remains of the Snow Queen.
'I won't be long, Derek,' chirped Tricia Stanford, as the lift doors opened up into the penthouse apartment they were renting for the week. She descended the steps, handbag on her arm, followed by Derek, who was carrying half a dozen bulging bags.
Derek grunted, holding up the bags to ask where to put them.
'Just dump them on the sofa, love,' Tricia commanded, indicating the vast sweep of white leather couch which dominated the living space. 'And make me a cuppa, there's a dear. I'm going to have a shower. Takes it out of you, all this shopping!'
You're telling me, thought Derek miserably. He threw the bags on the sofa as Tricia disappeared into the bathroom. Then he put the kettle on and, yawning, swung his legs onto the other white sofa. He picked up the TV
remote and flicked it on. The three-metre-wide plasma screen leapt into life, showing Deal or No Deal.
Derek hadn't been at all sure about taking a holiday in Hyperville - he didn't like the idea of the place at all. Tricia had steamrollered all his protests, as usual, and emotionally blackmailed him by pointing out all the things there were for the kids to do. Derek had fallen for it, and was now wishing he'd left them to it and gone on that golfing weekend instead.
He flicked through all the channels, tutting. From down the corridor came the sounds of splashing and singing. He shook his head, smiling ruefully. Tricia would be some time
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- she always was. She was a woman who saw a shower as an experience, rather than a mere necessity.
The doorbell buzzed.
Derek groaned, hauled himself off the s
ofa and staggered to the door. His finger hovered over the intercom button and he hesitated. How was he going to do this?
He pressed the button and tried the hoarsest of painful whispers. 'Hello?'
'Room service,' said a crisp, slightly squeaky voice.
Odd, thought Derek. He hadn't ordered anything.
Although he wouldn't have put it past Tricia to have got something in for a little post-shower snack. He sighed, and pressed the release control.
The door slid silently open.
The first thing Derek saw was the tray, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. It was held aloft, almost at the height of his eye-line.
Then he looked down, and saw who was holding it.
His mouth opened in a silent scream.
The metre-high dummy stalked in, its feet making a soft, squelching sound on the laminate floor. Once it was inside, it hurled the champagne tray away - tray, bottles and glass landed on a nearby armchair.
Derek backed away, his eyes bulging in horror and disbelief.
It was the same one. The midget dummy he'd seen in the shop, with its sinister red eyes, glossy black face and sculpted blonde hair - only this time dressed like a miniature waitress, in a little white button-tunic and black trousers. Its head swivelled from side to side and he was sure he could hear it quietly chuckling.
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'Room service,' said the voice again. It sounded to Derek like some demented doll's voice, recorded on tape - the sort of thing you'd pull a cord to hear. 'Room service. Room service.'
Derek grabbed the nearest thing available, which was the TV remote, and pointed it at the dummy like a weapon.
He tried to croak a threat, but this time his throat just wouldn't let him.
The dummy cackled, and launched itself into the air with a back-flip.
Derek ducked, and the dummy whooshed over his head.
He heard a squelching sound and looked up to see that it had attached itself to the ceiling, its small plastic hands and feet softening and moulding themselves into sucker-shapes so that it could cling on.
Derek backed away so quickly that he fell into the coffee table and knocked it over. Magazines and cups went flying.
