Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [44]
‘That is her.’
The Patient was looking around the room, clearly unsure of her surroundings. In human terms she appeared to be in her early thirties. ‘Nonsense!’ Medford concluded.
‘I saw her change’ the Adjudicator-Lieutenant insisted.
‘She’s regenerated,’ Adric added. ‘She must be a Gallifreyan.’
Medford tilted his head towards Adric. ‘One of the Doctor’s people?’
‘Yes,’ Adric said. Medford nodded, as though his suspicions had been confirmed then turned back to the Patient. One of the physicians was aiming a medical scanner at the Patient. She shook her head again, wincing.
The light source beaming from the scanner seemed to be causing her pain. Finally her eyes closed and she slumped.
‘She’s in a self-induced coma’ the Doctor’s voice announced. Adric had almost forgotten about him. The blood had dried on the Doctor’s lip, but he appeared pale, shaken. He remained slumped in the corner.
‘Are you alright?’ Adric was acutely aware that the Doctor had collapsed twice in the last twenty-four hours.
Seeing the process again reminded Adric just how much recent the Doctor’s own regeneration been. The Doctor ignored him.
‘She is of your race?’ Medford demanded before the Doctor had time to answer.
‘Yes , the Doctor said quietly. ‘But I had no idea,’ he added.
‘We will discuss that elsewhere. Take them away.’ Adric was grabbed from behind. The Doctor was pulled out of his vision, clearly too weak to resist.
‘She needs my help,’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Regeneration is a traumatic experience and I am the only person around here who is qualified to help her.’
Medford tapped a button on his wrist computer. ‘This is the Provost-General. Security alert. Activate the defence grid’
The physicians had loaded her onto a trolley. The Doctor tried to break free to reach her, but was dragged back.
‘The psionic beam has cut off,’ the Protector announced.
Whitfield joined him at his monitor.
‘It happened suddenly. There was no reduction in the datastream until the moment of termination. Then everything flatlined.’
‘It’s been there for a million years’
‘If only we had a time machine we could go back and see it arrive.’
‘That is hardly a practical suggestion, Protector.’
‘No Chief Scientist, I apologize.’
Whitfield looked out of the observation port. The Machine stood there, silently as ever. There was no outward sign of activity, and nothing about it seemed to have changed. She banged her fist against the plastic window.
‘Chief Scientist?’
‘It’s so frustrating. The moment we make a discovery, its snatched away from us or completely contradicts what we already know. She stood straight, tugging her tunic back into shape. ‘I am sorry. This is not the place for such an emotional outburst.’
The deputy was clearly a little unsure how to react, beyond embarrassment. ‘What shall I do next?’ he asked after a short pause.
‘We continue. Prepare the third stage.’
* * *
The decor in the restaurant of the Imperial Hotel was light, but this only served to emphasize how many cooking stains there were on the ceiling. The carpet by the swingdoor to the kitchens had been worn bare, and around the tables it was little better.
Tegan sat at a table towards the centre of the room, watching the comings and goings while she waited for Nyssa. Quite what her companion was doing, she wasn’t sure. Tegan didn’t particularly want to order yet another cup of coffee – in fact, she was worried that the restaurant would be closing for the night any minute. Most of the diners were the usual mix of couples: married, unmarried and not-married-to-each-other. Everyone here was human, although the variety of clothing was a little bewildering: everything from tailored tunics to what almost resembled eighteenth-century pirate gear. Most were on their best behaviour. The only exception was a party of laboratory technicians in the middle of a night on the town who were sitting behind Tegan singing an incomprehensible drinking song.