Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [26]
Around the corner, a woman was tending one of the plants. She was small and somewhere between middle and old age. Her blonde hair was white at the roots and she wore a collarless white tunic and leggings. The pale tunic made her face appear flushed, although anywhere else her skin would have been papery. She had green eyes which were so piercing that Adric found them almost disconcerting. As they approached she straightened.
‘Chief Scientist Whitfield,’ she announced formally. Her hands remained by her sides. Adric and the Doctor exchanged looks.
‘The governor of the colony?’ the Doctor asked. She nodded her head. He held out his hand. ‘I am the Doctor this is Adric.’ Adric smiled pleasantly, but knew that this Chief Scientist was more interested in the Doctor than him. It was the same the universe over. The Provost-General took his place behind Whitfield, looming over her like a bodyguard. Did he outrank the Chief Scientist?
Adric wasn’t sure what the protocol was, who would be in charge. They seemed relaxed around each other at least as relaxed as either of these rather formal people ever would be.
Behind them, the lift door opened. Adric turned to see a young man in a red tunic approach. ‘The medical report is complete,’ he announced.
The medic handed an electronic notepad to the Provost-General. He glanced at it, then handed it to Whitfield.
‘Proceed.’
‘The two subjects are free from infection, and in good health.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ the Doctor piped up.
‘The first subject,’ the medical officer continued in the tone of a prosecuting counsel, indicating the Doctor ‘has two hearts, mirror images of each other. Both are equally developed. The electric activity of the subject’s brain is at a higher level than ever previously recorded. His body temperature is a constant fifteen degrees. The blood is of a completely unknown type. The respiratory pigment is not haemoglobin, but has many of its structural characteristics and its capacity to carry oxygen is much greater. There is a wealth of further evidence pointing to one conclusion: although they resemble humans, both the Doctor and his friend are aliens.’
‘Yes,’ the Doctor said patiently, ‘I know.’
‘You don’t deny it?’ Whitfield said, surprised.
‘Of course we don’t, why would we want to? Adric here is an Alzarian, I am from Gallifrey.’
‘Neither of those worlds are protectorates of the Empire,’ Medford declared. If the Earth Empire was really as large as the Doctor had said, the Provost-General must have been guessing – no one could possibly remember the name of every single planet out of millions.
‘There has only been... only limited contact between our peoples,’ the Doctor declared cheerfully. Adric admired the Doctor’s ability to conceal the truth without actually lying, and his ability to change the subject of a conversation.
Before the Chief Scientist could ask why they had come to the planet, how they had arrived, if they were alone, the Doctor had said, ‘speaking of aliens, It’s a marvellous collection here.’
The Provost-General looked puzzled. ‘The vegetation has been imported from the arctic areas of over a hundred worlds,’ the Doctor explained.
Whitfield held up a leaf from the bush she had been tending. It was light brown, elongated. It was not an immediately appealing plant, indeed it looked distinctly but there were little fruit growing underneath the leaves.
‘This is a winter berry from Mare Sirenum. A gift from the Martian government.’ She picked one of the fruit and handed it to Adric. It was a colour somewhere between tawny-orange and scarlet. It had a strong, acidic smell. ‘It’s edible,’ she