Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [66]
Mr Qixotl appeared at his side, breathing heavily after the run up the three flights of stairs. As soon as he saw the ship, the man started straightening his tie and brushing the dirt off his lapels. The Doctor gave him a pitying look.
‘No excuse for looking shabby,’ Qixotl sniffed.
‘I don’t think they’ll care much about your fashion sense,’ the Doctor told him, matter-of-factly. ‘Not unless you’re wearing a personal energy dispersion field and three-inch-thick armour plating.’
Qixotl looked defiant, for once. ‘There’s not going to be any trouble here, y’know. Anyone attending the auction has to abide by strict rules of non-hostility, it says so on the invite cards. Absolutely no high-technology weapons allowed in the City, except for those that can’t be separated from their owners’ bodies.’ He indicated the ship with a wave of his hand. ‘Er... their guns are detachable, aren’t they?’
The Doctor shook his head. It was hard to believe even Qixotl could be this absurd. ‘And how are you going to enforce these rules of non-hostility, precisely?’
‘Not a problem, believe me. The City looks after that kind of thing itself.’
‘Damping fields?’
‘Yup. Energy weapons and combustive artefacts don’t function properly inside City limits. Except for cigarette lighters, obviously. Listen, I know how nervous you must be right now. The guys... I mean, the clients on that ship aren’t going to be too pleased to see you here, yeah? Maybe, y’know, you should get out of the way while you can.’
The Doctor wondered if that was supposed to be a threat. ‘If the Daleks really are here, I want to be around to keep an eye on them. Don’t worry, I’m quite good at making sure they don’t kill me. I’ve had plenty of experience. Some of it quite recent.’
‘What d’you mean, “if” the Daleks are really here? That’s a Dalek ship, right?’
The Doctor took another look at the vessel that had parked itself on the roof. He hadn’t paid much attention to the design before now, mainly because it wasn’t very nice. Conventional spaceships weren’t much to his liking anyway, but the black ship was little more than an ugly lump of metal with ion engines welded to the underside. ‘I don’t recognise the shape,’ he admitted. ‘But black is a very Dalek colour. Let me think. Late twenty-first century... by now, most of the Daleks are scattered around the edges of Mutters’ Spiral, trying to build up a decent galactic powerbase. The ones who got left behind on Skaro are just starting to think about putting together their own little empire. The “static electricity” phase of Dalek development, if I’m not mistaken. Still, my Dalek history’s always been a bit rusty. It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t keep changing all the time.’
Qixotl’s response to all this was drowned out by an unpleasant clanking sound from the bowels of the spaceship. As the Doctor watched, a section of the hull detached itself from the ship’s body. A hatch-cum-gangway, although the mechanism was so clumsy, it made the craft look like it was falling apart at the seams when it opened out. A few dozen more flower-bubbles popped under the gangway’s weight as it thumped against the ziggurat roof.
There was a long pause.
Nothing happened.
‘I think they’re waiting for us to go to them,’ the Doctor said, out of the corner of his mouth.
Qixotl did another one of his little nervous shuffles. ‘Erm... Doctor, you do realise that if we go onto the ship, the City systems can’t protect us?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘But then again, why would they want to hurt us, right? If they kill us, they won’t get hold of your... they won’t get hold of the Relic.’
‘True,’ said the Doctor, cheerily. ‘Unless they torture us to find out how to bypass your security systems before they kill us.’
The pause returned. And this time, it brought some of its friends along with it.
‘After you,’ said Qixotl.
‘Fair enough,’ said the Doctor, and strolled towards the gangway, waving a few of the flower-bubbles out of his path as he walked.
Bump.
Bregman felt her