Wetworld

by Mark Michalowski

  Where was the Doctor? She had a vague memory of him peering into her face, but she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it. She looked up suddenly as a wave of darkness flitted across the window – but there was nothing there. Martha shook her head. She was sure she’d seen something, something huge and shadowy. Maybe they’d given her some painkillers or sedatives that were making her mind play tricks.

  And then out of the corner of her eye, she saw something sinuous flick out from under the bed, whipping across the floor before it pulled back out of sight. Martha flinched, gritted her teeth and pulled her hands up to her chest. Her mouth was dry. Slowly, she leaned out over the side of the bed and peered down, half-afraid of what she might see. Visions of huge, slimy tentacles crowded at the back of her mind, thrashing about like hungry tongues, threatening to squeeze her sanity out.

  But the polished wooden floor was clear. She tried to swallow but her mouth was like cotton wool.

  On the cabinet beside her was a glass of water. She picked it up gingerly, her hand shaking, and swallowed it down in one gulp. Instantly she felt a lot better. The coolness, the wetness of it felt so good, so right. For a moment, she just wanted to dive into an icy pool, or a river or the sea…

  She shook her head, suddenly disorientated, and the warm, hard surroundings of the hospital room swam back into view. Looking around for more water, she noticed a clipboard and a pen on the cabinet. Setting down the glass, she picked them up and saw they were her notes. Even though she hadn’t quite finished medical training, she knew more than enough to be able to tell that she was in pretty good condition. Heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen – all normal enough. That was a relief. There was mention of some drug that she’d never heard of. Maybe it was a tranquilliser. Didn’t seem likely they’d give her anything that could cause hallucinations, surely. Stress, Martha decided firmly. That’s what it was. She’d been through a lot – dragged from the TARDIS, thrown into a pit with a load of animals and an underwater monster and then nearly killed by it. Anyone would have hallucinations after that.

  She just needed to rest, that was all. Absently, she unclipped the pen and tapped it against the clipboard as she lay back on the bed…

  A couple of kilometres down-river, at the point where the tidal wave had deposited its makeshift dam, the banks on both sides were a seething mass of otters: hundreds and hundreds of them, running hither and thither, like a colony of ants. They were diving into the water and returning with paws full of mud, depositing it on the banks, slapping it into numerous rapidly growing hillocks.

  Like creatures obsessed, they were steadily breaking down the dam that had held the settlement in its watery grave for all these months.

  SIX

  ‘And there’s more,’ gasped Orlo, bending over and resting his palms on his thighs as he struggled for breath.

  ‘What?’ demanded Col, suddenly concerned. Orlo shook his head, unable to get the words out.

  ‘The… the settlement,’ he finally managed. ‘The first settlement.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You can see it. Just the tops of the buildings. But they weren’t there yesterday, I’d swear. I saw them when I went to check on the ship.’

  ‘The water level must be falling,’ mused the Doctor, tapping his bottom lip with his fingers.

  ‘We need to tell everyone,’ Candy said. ‘Get them all out there—’

  ‘Hold your horses a second,’ the Doctor cut in. ‘If the water level’s suddenly falling, it has to be for a reason. The last thing you want is everyone out there, scampering around like excited schoolkids on a fieldtrip when we don’t really know what’s going on.’

  ‘Doctor,’ Ty said, ‘this is our colony. And this is the biggest thing to happen since the flood. If we can get the settlement and the ship back…’ She let the sentence tail off, leaving the possibilities unspoken.

  ‘You’ll what? Fly back home?’

  Ty was aghast.

  ‘No way! We’re here for the duration, Doctor. But if the ship’s accessible, it means we’ll be able to set up another generator, using the ship’s power core. We can stop having to burn wood every time the generator we’ve got packs in. And if we can find the smart-fabricator, we can get to work on the settlement properly.’

  The Doctor’s eyes narrowed suddenly.

  ‘Power core…? Just what kind of ship is this One Small Step of yours? What model?’

  ‘It’s a mark II world-builder,’ said Candy.

  The Doctor’s expression froze, his brows set in a thundery line.

  ‘A mark II? You’re sure? Not the mark III?’

  Candy shook her head.

  ‘Deffo – me and Orlo used to use the shipbrain on the journey for learning stuff. The welcome screen definitely had “mark II” on it. Why? What’s wrong?’

  The Doctor had slumped back against the desk, his arms folded.

  ‘You’ve got a problem with that?’ asked Ty. Candy could see she was getting ratty.

  ‘Not me that’s going to have the problem with it,’ he said darkly. ‘I mean, you lot leave the Earth because it’s overpopulated and polluted, looking for something new and better – and what do you do? You bring a mark II world-builder with you. A ship powered by one of the most filthy fission reactors your species has ever come up with?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s like moving out of your house because the roof’s leaking, and before you’ve even unpacked, you’re up a ladder, ripping the slates off the new one!’

  ‘And you’d know all about setting up a colony, would you Doctor?’ Ty’s voice was edged with defensiveness.

  ‘Well I know quite a bit about how you humans go about it.’ There was something about how he said ‘you humans’ that made the hairs on Candy’s arms prickle. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of times that I’ve sung your praises, you know, told everyone about how endlessly inventive, how incredibly adventurous you lot are. Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, battling against the odds, yadda yadda yadda.’ He fixed Ty with a dark gaze. ‘I tend to forget about the times when you’re stupid, stubborn and fail to learn from your mistakes.’

  Ty was gritting her teeth, hands on hips.

  ‘Setting up a new colony costs money, Doctor. Have you any idea how much a fusion generator costs? We bought the One Small Step because it had a fission generator and a spare core. It’s the spare that we’re using to generate our electricity. We were lucky that we didn’t lose it in the flood, otherwise we’d be struggling by on wood-burning and nothing else. When Sunday’s established and the rest of the colonists arrive then we’ll trade the fission core in for a fusion unit.’

  ‘And until then, you’ll go on risking polluting this new Eden of yours, will you? Digging up uranium, creating waste that will still be around for your great-great-great-grandchildren to cope with. What’s wrong with solar? Planetothermal? Wind-power? Tidal power, for goodness’ sake!’

  ‘Not viable here – believe me, we looked into them. And the experimental tidal generators we set up were washed away in the flood. Don’t judge someone ‘til you’ve walked in their shoes, Doctor,’ Ty warned.

  ‘And what about the ship?’ the Doctor added after a pause. ‘What about the generator aboard that? Just abandoned out there in the swamp, up to its gills in water.’

  ‘These things are built for safety, you know. It’s not as if all the uranium is just going to wash out into the water.’

  He just shook his head, sadly.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said with a sigh, ‘first things first. We need to take a look at the settlement, see if we can work out why it’s suddenly become visible. And then we can take a look at your ship, make sure you’re not doing to Sunday what you’ve already done to the Earth. If the power core of the One Small Step has been breached, I’d dread to think what it might be leaking into the water. Orlo – you up for taking us out there?’

  Orlo rolled his eyes, but nodded.

  ‘Finish your coffee,’ the Doctor said, patting the lad
on the shoulder. ‘I want to check on Martha first. Back in a mo.’ He glanced around the room as he left. ‘Where’s Col, by the way?’

  Candy looked around: the Doctor was right – without so much as a ‘See you’, Col had gone.

  Martha was asleep, her eyes flickering and darting under her eyelids.

  ‘She’s having some very vivid dreams,’ the Doctor muttered, making Dr Hashmi jump. ‘How is she?’

  Sam indicated the medical monitor, suspended above Martha’s bed.

  ‘She looks fine,’ he said. ‘Nothing that a few hours’ sleep won’t cure.’

  ‘And what about those marks?’ The Doctor indicated the pattern of dots on Martha’s temples, now faded to little more than a mild rash. ‘Make anything of them?’

  ‘Probably where that thing grabbed her. Hopefully nothing more than a graze.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said the Doctor. ‘D’you have the results of her bloodwork? I’d like to be sure she’s not been infected with anything. Anything alien.’

  ‘I’ve given her some shots, although the pathogens around here are fairly benign. I wouldn’t worry that she’s picked anything too bad up.’

  The Doctor fixed him with a stare.

  ‘I’d like to be sure,’ he said.

  Sam checked his watch.

  ‘Well they should be back in an hour or so – sorry it’s taken so long, but our path lab is a bit makeshift. Doubles up for just about every bit of bioanalysis we need around here. And apparently they’ve brought back some skeletons – from the nests. Found quite a few of them. They’re having a look at them to see if they can work out who they are, and how they died.’

  The Doctor nodded silently, took Martha’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Take good care of her,’ he said.

  He leaned in over Martha.

  ‘And you take good care of yourself, Martha Jones. We’ve got a date, remember? At Tiffany’s.’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘But before that, we’ll need to get you a new frock. Yellow, I think – that’s the colour of nobility on Arkon. Should suit you down to the ground. Or the knees, at least.’

  And with that, he was gone.

  Plucking a pen from the breast pocket of his coat, Sam picked up the clipboard from beside Martha’s bed, noticing that someone had doodled all over it. It took him a few moments to realise what the circular sketch was: a picture of a planet, with rough continents drawn in. And engulfing it, with eight smooth fingers or talons, was a hand.

  Pallister scratched at the stubble on his pointed chin and wondered for the third time that morning whether he shouldn’t take an hour off to go home and have a shave and a shower. It didn’t do for the Chief Councillor to look so scruffy, not when there was an adjudicator around. He chewed his lip, thoughtfully. Maybe looking a bit worn and frazzled had its advantages, though – it would look like he cared more about his duty than his appearance.

  Besides, he couldn’t really spare the time. The arrival of this Doctor was a pain in more ways than one. Pallister peered out of his office window as he saw the Doctor cross from the hospital back to the zoo lab. A few of the settlers out in the square watched him go and began talking amongst themselves. Word was spreading already: Earth had sent an adjudicator! The Chinese whispers had started. His assistant, Eton, had come tapping at his door not ten minutes ago, claiming people were saying a recovery mission was on its way to Sunday, and that they were all to be evacuated.

  ‘Rubbish!’ Pallister snapped. ‘Go back out there and stop these stupid rumours before we have everyone out in the square with their suitcases packed.’

  ‘Pardon me for asking, sir – what’s he here for?’

  ‘That’s something between him and me – and the Council,’ Pallister added quickly. ‘There’s a meeting this evening and you’ll all be told in the fullness of time.’ Eton just stared at him. ‘At the appropriate juncture,’ Pallister added more firmly.

  ‘Yes, sir. Very good, sir.’

  ‘Now go and stop those rumours, Eton – and if I hear any more of them, I’ll know who to blame, won’t I?’

  Eton could only stammer an apology as he ducked out of the room.

  As the door closed, a sudden sense of cold dread swept through Pallister. What if the Doctor were here to investigate him? No, that was impossible. There was nothing to investigate, was there? His election had been… well, it had seemed open and above-board. He’d kept the promises he’d made to the key families that had voted him in: better houses, higher priority on work rotas, that sort of thing. It was hardly an adjudication matter, surely. Everything he was doing here was for the good of the colony – no adjudicator could argue with that. Solid leadership. A single hand taking charge.

  So why was the Doctor spending so much time with Benson? Why wasn’t he in the office that Pallister had so kindly provided for him?

  Too many questions, he thought, picking up a pencil and bending it in his fingers. Too many questions and so far not a single answer.

  He swore as the pencil snapped – and there was another knock at the door.

  Ty had packed a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches for their hike to the original Sunday City. Orlo looked a bit reluctant to trudge back there – especially after racing back to the zoo lab at full tilt. But with a bit of chivvying from the Doctor, he soon went along with it.

  ‘Should have brought Candy,’ Orlo said as they made their way through the forest. ‘She’s a good swimmer – she could have gone down there and taken a look.’

  ‘The last thing we want,’ said the Doctor – who’d taken off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, ‘is anyone diving into those waters.’

  ‘You think there might be more of those things that attacked Martha?’ asked Ty, struggling to keep up with the Doctor’s pace. The reports that had returned along with the recovered skeletons suggested that quite a few of the nests might have had creatures living in their water pools. Eleven skeletons had been found, all in the same state, in five different nests. And in four of those there had been signs of something thrashing about in the water.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he answered. He seemed distracted – no doubt worried about his friend. Ty watched him carefully, trying to work him and Martha out. Were they a couple? Just friends? Work colleagues? If they were a couple, Ty thought wryly, then Martha was one lucky woman.

  She was pleased that their earlier spat seemed to have been forgotten. She was sure that the Doctor’s heart was in the right place, but, really, he couldn’t begin to understand the difficulties and costs involved in setting up Sunday. They’d had no choice but to go for the mark II world-builder ship – it wasn’t like they had an unlimited budget. But still, she knew where he was coming from on this. She just didn’t like to think about it too much.

  ‘So why haven’t we seen anything of these tentacled things before?’ she asked, getting back on track,

  The Doctor could only shrug.

  ‘Maybe they’ve been hiding. Maybe they only live in the otter nests. Maybe the meteorite disturbed them…’ His voice tailed off. ‘Now there’s a thought…’

  ‘What?’ asked Ty. ‘That the meteorite disturbed them?’

  The Doctor didn’t answer but strode out ahead. Ty sighed exasperatedly. Fascinating and charismatic the Doctor might be; but he could also be very irritating.

  The late-morning air was pleasantly warm and filled with the scents of an alien world. The Doctor breathed deeply, savouring every breath. The rain had washed the air clean, left it citrusy, piney. They said that travel broadened the mind – they never mentioned how it broadened the senses too. Maybe if he hadn’t been so worried about Martha and the TARDIS he’d have used one of his own senses – his common sense – and put two and two together. Sometimes, he thought, he could just be too clever.

  Ty had said she’d never seen the tentacled things that had attacked Martha before. Yet she was a zoologist and she’d spent a good few months studying the animal life in this area of Sunday. How likely was
it that she could have missed them – or at least missed clues to their existence? So if the creatures hadn’t been around before the flood, and now they were…

  Two and two, he thought worriedly. Two and two…

  The three travellers reached the peak of a small hill overlooking the lake where the first Sunday City had drowned that night. Strange how the site of such a tragedy could look so peaceful – almost idyllic. He could almost imagine rowing boats drifting gently across it. He remembered the map that Ty had shown him: like Earth, Sunday was mainly ocean. Unlike Earth, however, it was almost entirely ocean, with a speckle of islands, large and small, girdling its equator. He imagined that the planet had been chosen as a good colony world precisely because of all that water. And, ironically, it had been that very water that had nearly wiped the colony out. But humanity would prevail. It usually did. They were tough old sticks. Even if they had hoiked a great big old mucky nuclear power plant light years across space.

  Orlo had been right – sticking up out of the placid water, like the prows of capsized ships, were the tops of at least a dozen buildings. Now they were grey and green, matted with silt and algae. Even the night’s rain hadn’t washed them clean. The Doctor tried to imagine them, shining and new, as they must have been before the meteorite struck.

  He scanned the forest for any sign of the One Small Step – but it was a couple of kilometres out of sight beyond the trees.

  ‘The water’s dropped even further,’ said Orlo in disbelief, discarding his backpack by the side of the otter cage that he’d abandoned earlier. ‘At this rate it’ll be dry in a couple of days!’

  The Doctor shielded his eyes from the rays of the orange sun, now almost directly overhead, and gazed out along the river. It curved around a chunk of green headland and disappeared towards the sea.