by Doctor Who
‘Well, it’s only slightly less primitive.’
Rose walked away. ‘Thanks for the joke. Guess what? It’s solved everything.’
Jack was standing by Das. ‘It isn’t the Doctor’s fault,’ he reminded Rose.
‘Yeah, but. . . ’ Rose looked down at Das’s heavy features and thick eyebrows. ‘How can he live here? He’s gonna stick out just a bit.
Unless he joins Oasis.’
‘I don’t see we’ve got any choice,’ said Jack.
The Doctor walked over. ‘Whoever sent him here, Rose, it’s their fault. We’ve gotta get back and stop ’em doing it again, or doing something worse. They could do such damage.’
She saw that he’d found what he was searching for in the locker. It looked like a credit card. She blinked – it was a credit card.
‘You three – wait here.’
The Doctor was down the ramp and out through the police box doors before Rose could object.
She heard a groan and turned to see Das’s eyes flickering open.
They settled on her. ‘Rose?’ he asked.
29
Rose took his hand.
She looked at Jack for support.
He just
shrugged. Rose pulled a face of ironic thanks at him. Then she swallowed, licked her lips and turned back to Das. ‘Listen, there’s a problem. A big problem.’
It was early evening. The sun, which seemed to comfort Das, was making a twilight showing through the clouds over Bromley and now he sat on a bench in the park, dressed in a jacket and jeans from the TARDIS’s wardrobe, with Rose.
Rose found it hard to tell how Das had taken the news that he was trapped in this future for ever. He hadn’t cried, or screamed, or run about shouting. Most likely, she came to realise, he simply hadn’t believed the Doctor’s promise to take him home in the first place.
He looked around the people in the park, taking a particular interest in two things: the pushchairs carrying tiny children and the motor scooters carrying old people. ‘This place is full of made-things,’ he said. ‘You are always making things. All you need are spears, and tools to make spears. That’s all anybody really needs. Why do you keep making other things? Making caves, making clothes. Why bother?’
He laughed to himself. ‘You make things because you’re lazy. Here you’re too lazy even to walk. Last night I saw fast walking-things.’
‘Cars,’ guessed Rose.
A plane chose that moment to pass overhead. Rose kept expecting Das to freak out at these sights, but instead he just pointed up and observed, ‘And those aren’t birds. A flying made-thing?’
‘Planes,’ said Rose.
Jack walked over from the TARDIS, where he’d been locking in the coordinates for the journey back to Das’s time, and picked up the last couple of sentences. He looked Das full in the eye and said slowly and distinctly, as if to an idiot, ‘The planes are machines. For people to fly in. They are not beasts. They were made by people.’
Das blinked at him a little resentfully. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said patiently.
He glanced at Rose and nodded to Jack. ‘Is there something wrong with him?’
30
‘He’s just a bit slow.’ She smiled at Jack. ‘He gets it. I’ve been to the future and I can work things out, so why can’t he?’
Jack frowned. ‘You’re from a level-two technology. You already have a start. You’ve got concepts of science.’
‘And eyes,’ said Rose.
Das got up and looked round. ‘I am getting it, yes, most of it. But where is the quarry?’
Rose was confused. ‘Sorry?’
‘Your food. Where are the animals?’ A dog came sniffing round the flower beds. ‘Ah, you eat dogs. That can’t be very filling.’
‘We don’t need to hunt,’ said Rose. ‘We get our food from the shops.’
Das frowned. ‘The shops?’
‘We pay for food in the shops.’
‘Pay?’
‘With money.’
‘Money?’
Jack smirked over at Rose. ‘Warned you. You’ve got some big-time educating to do.’
She had no time to reply because at that moment the Doctor strode up. ‘Right, I’ve sorted a few things out.’ He clapped Das on the shoulder. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ve got most of it,’ he said. ‘I’m not clear about food, shops and money.’
‘Jack’ll explain,’ said Rose. She turned to the Doctor. ‘We can’t simply leave him. He can just about pass for human, but we’ve got a responsibility.’
‘Who said anything about leaving him? He needs a helping hand to get him settled.’
‘That’s gonna take some time,’ said Jack.
‘Yeah, it could,’ said the Doctor. ‘So you’d better get started right away.’
Jack blinked in surprise. ‘Me?’
The Doctor took a large envelope from one of his pockets and handed it to Jack. ‘All in there. Keys to your flat.’ He handed him a piece of paper. ‘There’s the address.’ He pointed. ‘Just over thataway.
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It’s a bit poky, and the furniture’s disgusting, and the curtains in the front room are falling to bits, and I’d descale the shower head right now if I was you. But it’ll do for two young professionals. Ever such a nice estate agent. You’ll fancy her, and she’s very easily pleased. Oh, and you’d better have this.’ He handed Jack the credit card. ‘You’ve got half a million sterling in there. Your pin number is 1. Don’t spend it all at once. Come on, Rose.’
Captain Jack looked down, dazed, at the credit card. ‘This is a psychic credit card. They were banned after the infinite recession on Baydafarn. I’ve been trying to get hold of one of these for years. . . ’
‘And now you’ve got one,’ said the Doctor, leading Rose to the TARDIS. ‘Back in a month! Four weeks exactly.’
Rose stopped off to address Das. ‘Das, the captain’s gonna look after you, get you up on your feet here. . . It’ll be OK. It’s fine. Most of the people are really nice.’
‘Get him some decent clothes,’ said the Doctor, unlocking the TARDIS doors. ‘They’ve got a good Gap in Croydon. Works for me.
See ya.’
Jack hurried up to them. ‘Doctor, I don’t belong here.’
‘That’s all right,’ said the Doctor, nodding to Das. ‘Neither does he, yet.’
‘And you can blend in anywhere,’ said Rose teasingly. ‘You’re the boy who says he’s seen and done it all.’
‘Isn’t Rose a better choice for this?’ protested Jack. ‘She’s from this time, she knows the area. Wouldn’t I be more use to you where you’re going?’
The Doctor hesitated a second. ‘Maybe, but I like Rose.’ And as Rose stepped inside the TARDIS, he called back, ‘Stay out of trouble, handsome! And keep your hand on your ha’penny!’
Jack stood back as the TARDIS disappeared with its usual rasping and grating noise. Das barely flinched; Jack guessed he’d seen so many things that were strange to him today that one more didn’t make much difference. And nobody else in the park had noticed at all.
Jack looked round. So he had a month to settle a Neanderthal man in twenty-first century London. He felt a little left out – but on the 32
other hand it was a challenge. It might even be fun.
He clapped a hand round Das’s shoulder and asked, ‘Shall we learn about shops, then?’
33
The sun rose over the country that was later to be known as Britain on Thursday 25 May 26,185 BC. Somewhere under the area that would later be known as Bromley on that day, a man called Jacob was tucking into his breakfast of cauliflower cheese. He realised he wasn’t enjoying it very much, so he reached for the small, brightly coloured metal pack attached to his breast and tapped in a five-digit combination on its small keyboard without looking. Then the breakfast of cauliflower cheese became incredibly tasty, one of the best meals he’d ever had. But then, most of his meals tasted like the best meal he’d ever had. So he punch
ed another five-digit combination into the metal pack and then the cauliflower cheese tasted like nothing he’d ever tasted before, in a strange but very pleasant way.
He heard his wife, Lene, enter the living room of their married quarters. She gave a little sigh as she pulled her chair up to the breakfast bar and poured herself some cauliflower cheese juice.
‘What’s the matter, darling?’ asked Jacob.
She didn’t say anything, just stared into space with an expression he didn’t recognise.
‘Lene?’
35
‘You know I took that diagnostic test yesterday?’ said Lene casually.
‘The result’s just come through from Chantal, on my phone.’ She still had her phone in her hand. She flipped it open and stared at the little screen.
Jacob felt a pang of wrong-feeling about her expression. He found he wanted to know – desperately wanted to know – what the result was. That felt uncomfortable. ‘What is it?’
‘Incipient renal collapse,’ said Lene.
Jacob felt the wrong-feeling swell inside him. ‘How long have you got?’ he asked.
‘Three weeks at the outside,’ said Lene. ‘It’s no surprise, I guess.
I am 387 and no one can live for ever.’ She smiled, but it wasn’t a proper, fine smile.
Jacob didn’t know quite how to feel.
‘Where’s my popper pack?’ asked Lene. ‘I put it down somewhere last night. . . ’
Jacob found her pack under a cushion on their settee and quickly handed it over. Lene took it and pressed its soft, adhesive pad to her chest.
‘Right, quickly. . . ’ said Jacob. He opened the kitchen drawer and fished out the instruction booklet. He scanned through it, searching the index. ‘Bad news, bad news. . . page 43.’ He turned to it. ‘Ah. Here we go. “News of your impending termination. . . Combo 490/32”.’
‘490/32,’ Lene repeated, tapping the numbers into her pack. Immediately the wrong smile and the strange expression disappeared.
‘And I’ll need “News of partner’s impending termination”,’ said Jacob, searching for it among the lines of crabbed text. ‘“Combo 490/37”.’
He tapped the code into his pack and the wrong-feelings disappeared. He smiled at Lene and took her hand.
‘It’s a shame, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘Can’t be helped,’ Lene smiled back. ‘And we had ninety fantastic years together.’
A buzzer sounded. Jacob looked at the large wall-clock, which told him it was just gone nine. ‘I’m late for work. I’ll see you later.’
36
He grabbed his briefcase, took one last bite of cauliflower cheese and hurried out.
‘Bye, Jacob, see you later,’ called Lene.
After he’d gone she drank her cauliflower cheese juice. It tasted a bit ordinary, so she tapped a code into her popper pack and then it tasted like cheesecake, her favourite flavour. Then she yawned and stretched and drew the curtains, and spotted a stain on the carpet. Damn! Just after she’d tidied up, and Jacob had done his typical irritating thing of leaving a drink balanced on the arm of the settee!
She tapped another code into her pack to stop the stain and Jacob’s carelessness annoying her, and went and got out the spray from under the sink.
‘Afternoon, Jacob,’ said Chantal, pointedly but warmly, as he hurried into the control area.
‘Sorry, sorry. . . ’ said Jacob, slipping behind his desk.
‘And today’s excuse is?’ asked Chantal.
Jacob bit his lip. ‘Well, you know Lene’s been feeling. . . oh, what’s the word?’
‘Content?’ guessed Chantal.
‘No,’ said Jacob, struggling. ‘It means. . . body not working properly. . . begins with s, I think. . . ’
‘Serene?’
Jacob clicked his fingers, retrieving the right word. ‘Sick. That’s the one. She’s been feeling sick. Turns out it’s an impending termination, renal collapse.’
Chantal’s face fell in that strange way. ‘Yes, I know. I examined her myself.’
‘It’s 490/35,’ said Jacob helpfully.
Chantal tapped it in. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘OK, Jacob, no worries, darling. Can you cover the East Sector Sweep climate reports for me today?’ She walked over and put down a sheaf of papers on his desk.
Jacob nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘You’re a star.’
37
He started to leaf through the reports. He remembered there was a question he needed to ask. Thinking about the question gave him a wrong-feeling, which was easily dealt with, but still the question remained. ‘Er, Chantal. . . ’
‘Yes, Jacob?’
‘When are we going home?’
‘Not for a bit yet. Do you want to go home?’
Jacob wrestled with the words. I. . . find myself. . . thinking about it. And I keep thinking about Pedro and Suzy. Where are they?’
‘They’re around,’ said Chantal.
‘They went down to the Grey Door and I haven’t seen them since,’
said Jacob slowly. ‘I haven’t seen Maria either.’
‘They’re around,’ repeated Chantal. ‘Somewhere.’ She came over and gave him a comforting hug. ‘Oh, Jacob, you total berk. You should have said. You’re anxious.’
‘A little,’ Jacob admitted.
‘354/91’s best for that,’ advised Chantal, kissing him on the forehead.
‘Oh, thanks,’ said Jacob.
‘No probs,’ said Chantal.
Jacob tapped the code in and relaxed. The anxious wrong-feeling evaporated. Jacob was aware that he still didn’t have the answer to his question, and he was sure that Pedro, Maria and Suzy weren’t around anywhere either, but it didn’t seem to matter much any longer, so he got back to studying the climate reports.
His wife was dying and he was trapped in primeval history, but what the hell.
Rose felt a surge of excitement as the engines quietened down and the TARDIS settled. This was always the best bit for her. Through those doors there was another world, another time!
At first she’d wondered if she’d get used to it one day, turn into a seasoned traveller, hard to impress. But she saw the same look of glee on the Doctor’s face every time and he’d been doing it for 900 years.
38
So it was one of those exciting things you never got used to and that sometimes made her feel so good she wanted to scream it out.
She pushed open the door and stepped outside. The comforting warmth of the TARDIS was replaced by a biting wind that stung her cheeks. The air was the freshest she’d tasted, and she felt the urge to run out and take down great lungfuls of it.
They’d arrived on a wide, gently undulating plain. A few miles away there was a dense deep-green forest, but all around there were scattered stands of trees. The sky was clear and eggshell blue. Rose remembered an ill-fated camping trip with Jimmy Stone to Dartmoor.
If you just looked quickly at this scene it might have seemed the same.
But there was an uncultivated wildness about this place. The forest was tangled and black as night; the grass around them was tall and crazily wild. Somehow, where Dartmoor had seemed almost cosy in its ruggedness, never that far from cars, roads and hedges, this place felt dangerous and alive.
Rose realised she was grinning like a loon at the sheer joy of it.
‘Could this be any more beautiful?’
The Doctor shut the TARDIS door and breathed in deeply. ‘That’s proper fresh Earth air, that.’
‘And this is Bromley?’ Rose could hardly believe it.
‘They probably don’t call it that yet,’ said the Doctor. ‘Better warn ya – there’ll be a lot of wildlife. Wild wildlife.’
They started walking. ‘Like what, wolves?’
‘Yeah, plus bears, and wild dogs, and mammoths.’ He stepped in something and shook his boot. ‘And rabbits.’ He looked about. ‘Das said there was a particular strange tree. . . ’
‘Only about 40,000
to check,’ pointed out Rose.
She shivered as they entered a wooded thicket. She was wrapped in a thick coat from the TARDIS wardrobe, but the wind still bit at her through it. The Doctor, loping confidently along, seemed unaffected in his jacket and jumper.
‘Aren’t you cold?’
‘Nah,’ he said. ‘And there’ll be humans. The Neanderthals like the forests –’ he pointed to it – ‘so they’ll be over there. Beckenham, Penge 39
way. But your lot, you roam about everywhere. You like big empty spaces cos you’re from Africa, the savannah. You jumped down when the trees there died out. Then a whopping great volcano went off, covered the planet in ash. Just a thousand of you left then, you could have just given up, but you set off and conquered the place.’
Rose took his arm. ‘Oh, right. So we’re not completely useless and evil, then?’
‘Not completely. Though you’ve got a thing about tree-felling.’
Rose smiled. ‘Can I just say, I really, really like this place.’
‘Of course you do,’ said the Doctor as they started down a slope.
‘You’re adapted for it. This is where you belong, not sat on your behind scoffing Pringles and watching Loose Women.’
Rose shivered. ‘With the heater on.’
‘Yeah. Why d’you think you invented clothes in the first place?’
‘And those clothes would be like. . . ’
‘Skins. By-product of a heavy red-meat diet.’
Rose laughed. ‘What, so everyone in the Stone Age was on the Atkins?’
‘No choice,’ said the Doctor. ‘Mammoth for breakfast, mammoth for dinner and mammoth for tea.’
Something caught Rose’s eye. ‘Right.’ She pointed to it. ‘So why’s that bloke over there wearing jeans and eating a baguette?’
The Doctor followed her finger. About a couple of hundred yards away there was a long-haired young man in denim flares sitting on a fallen tree, a tin lunchbox on his knee. Even at this distance Rose couldn’t help noticing that he was good-looking – not just ordinary good-looking, but Hollywood standard, with Brad Pitt cheekbones and dimples.
