Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [117]
‘I didn’t think you believed in the Sunless’s weapon.’
‘I don’t. Tell me about the dream anyway,’ she panted and gestured for him to hand her the respirator. ‘Is it always the same?’
He nodded, passing it to her. ‘I’m floating between the stars, falling towards a sun. It explodes burning me up until I’m nothing.’
Bernice took two deep breaths and then returned it. ‘And then?’
‘Well, then I wake up.’
‘Doesn’t give us much to go on, does it?’
‘No. But it’s the most realistic dream I’ve ever had. That’s why I don’t doubt that the device exists.’
Bernice sighed. On a whim she said, ‘Unwrap our little friend.’
Still hurrying on, he obeyed, holding it out in front of him as they scurried down the corridor.
‘Feel anything?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing. Just that it’s cold and a bit heavy.’
They turned a corner and ran headlong into a figure coming the other way. Bernice was knocked backward to the ground. For a second she thought that it was a Sunless and she felt the now familiar panic grip hold of her.
It wasn’t a Sunless, though. It was a human being. The middle-aged woman stared down at her, looking almost as scared as Bernice felt. The woman was heavy-set, with a serious, hard face and short iron-grey hair.
She was holding a figurine in her hand. The male figurine. The other one of the pair.
‘Snap!’ Bernice said, brightly.
CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ENEMY?
Kitzinger backed away from the two Sunless. She pulled her home-made knife out of her fur coat, but she knew there was no way she could kill them both. Her escape attempt was over before it had even properly begun.
She stood there waiting for the inevitable.
And waited.
The Sunless didn’t spring into action. The female said something Kitzinger didn’t understand. A one-syllable word. An order of some kind? The male stood there, hugging something to its chest, staring at her expectantly.
And then the female Sunless did something Kitzinger had thought she would never see a Sunless do.
It smiled.
It was a friendly smile that, absurdly, made Kitzinger want to smile back. At least until she saw the rows of sharp triangular teeth in the Sunless’s face. Kitzinger shrank back in fear.
‘No, wait,’ the Sunless said, its voice strangely full of emotion. ‘Oh, I see. No, it’s all right. It’s only eyeliner pencil.’
The words didn’t make any sense. Nothing about the Sunless in front of her did.
The grey-suited figure climbed to its feet. ‘Look,’ it said and rubbed its front teeth vigorously with its finger for a second. The ‘teeth’ dissolved into a grey stain. ‘It’s just pretend. Don’t worry.’
This Sunless had the strangest accent Kitzinger had ever heard. She tried to place it and failed completely.
‘My name is Bernice Summerfield,’ it said, stretching out an empty hand in a gesture that was universal. ‘I’m a professor of archaeology. Don’t be scared. I’m about as hostile as a Toblerone.
Actually, as a cultural reference that probably doesn’t help much. But if you’re only half as scared of the real Sunless as you are of me, then I suspect that you and I have rather a lot in common.’
Kitzinger took the proffered hand and shook it gently. The woman’s hand was cold, but undeni-ably human. She hadn’t touched another woman in more than a year.
‘Hey,’ the woman said, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, it’s OK. We’re friendly.’
Kitzinger looked over the woman’s shoulder at the other Sunless: a young attractive lad, who grinned back at her. His teeth were already a little smeared.
‘Hello Kitzinger,’ he said. Now that accent she did recognize. The young man was an Ursulan.
‘Remember me?’
And then he pulled open the collar of his uniform, exposing his shoulder, which was covered in dark-green Saurian scales.
The dragon boy. Iranda’s brother. Here. Disguised as a Sunless. What was going on?
The woman who called herself Bernice Summerfield looked just as surprised as Kitzinger was.
The bizarre Sunless woman turned to the lad. ‘You know this woman?’
‘Of course. All my Eight know Kitzinger.’ He grinned again. ‘All ten of us. She birthed us.’
‘Crikey,