Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [38]
The Colonel looked startled. By his side, the other human shuffled her feet. ‘You know me?’
The Doctor bobbed his head. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t remember. I’ve changed so much since the last time we met. I’m the D–’
‘Er, right, yeah,’ coughed Qixotl. He kept clearing his throat, loudly, until he was sure the Doctor wasn’t going to say any more. ‘We should have some kind of social event, get everyone introduced properly, yeah? Maybe a nice get-together up in the roof garden or something. In the meantime, why don’t we all go back to our rooms and get a bit of rest? Only one more party to get here before we can start the bidding, and then, y’know...’
‘There was one party to come before he arrived,’ the nonorganic woman pointed out, nodding towards the Doctor.
‘Uh-huh. Right. Well, I might have miscounted. Anyway, the point I’m making is, I think we’re all a teensy bit on edge, and we need to... oh, no.’
The Doctor turned to see what Qixotl was gaping at. A familiar shape had appeared in the doorway, and was staring at the individuals gathered in the room, obviously not knowing whether to say hello or make a run for it.
“Eep”, went Sam’s wristwatch.
The Doctor coughed, politely. ‘This is my travelling companion, Miss Jones of London. Sam, come in. We were all getting acquainted. Almost.’
Sam looked as if he’d just told her he was going out to have dinner with Mr and Mrs Drashig. When she raised her hand, in greeting, she looked like she was on the verge of holding up the other hand and surrendering.
‘Hi,’ she said, weakly. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I’m totally lost here. What’s going on. Do–?’
‘Well, anyway,’ said Mr Qixotl. He practically shouted it, desperate to stop Sam finishing the sentence. The Doctor shot him a puzzled look.
Almost imperceptibly, Qixotl shook his head. A gesture that said: not now. Talk later. Alone.
And in that one moment of contact, there was a kind of understanding. A split-second of recognition. Technically, the Doctor knew, Time Lords weren’t supposed to be able to recognise each other after they’d regenerated. But it happened, all the same. No matter how much your face changed, there’d be something left over, something too subtle to put your finger on. That was what he felt now. Not that he was sure Qixotl was another Time Lord, but he knew, one way or another, they weren’t exactly strangers.
Qixotl looked away, and forced a smile between his lips. ‘Well, anyway,’ he repeated. ‘Time for a quick recess before things get into full swing, OK? Good.’
The Doctor glanced around the room. The others were muttering among themselves, looking slightly thrown. He spotted the Amazon woman slipping out through the doorway. So smooth, no one else had even noticed her going.
‘I’d like to know one thing,’ said the female Paradox cultist. Her voice was soft. Curious, rather than threatening. In the same way vivisectionists are “curious”, the Doctor mused. ‘Who, precisely, does this agent represent?’
‘Me? Oh, I’m independent.’ The Doctor slapped his head. ‘Of course! I knew I was missing something.’
All eyes were on him again. ‘Eight people,’ the Doctor went on. ‘I noticed eight people when I woke up, but I only counted seven. Who did I miss?’
There was a long pause. The Doctor looked around, but the faces of the other “bidders” were blank. Finally, he found the answer to his question written in the cracks of the nearest wall.
YOU’RE VERY PERCEPTIVE, read the cracks. MOST PEOPLE WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE ACKNOWLEDGED MY EXISTENCE.
‘Erm, have you met Mr Shift?’ murmered Qixotl. He sounded almost embarrassed.
Somewhere in her consciousness, Marie had entire subsystems devoted to interpersonal dynamics. Vast neural canyons, full of raw psychology and unprocessed information. The systems hadn’t ever been used. At least, not to their full potential. Marie had been brought into being after the start of the war (brought into being, not actually constructed; 103 TARDIS units were designed to reproduce in a manner that was almost organic), and in wartime, social engineering wasn’t really