Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [38]
‘Is it OK to stay here tonight?’ she asked. ‘Errol really needs a doctor or a hospital. Is there one nearby? Would it be all right to take him there?’
Scott didn’t seem to understand. ‘All right?’ he repeated, frowning. ‘There’s a woman who lives in the village. She was in the hospital in Anarray for a year. She’s good at helping the injured. I’ll ask her to come in the morning. I think he will be “all right” enough until then.’
Bernice felt some of the tension leave her. ‘Thank you. Again. I have to find two more of my friends. They came down in an escape pod. I followed their flight path down. I couldn’t get exact coordinates, but they shouldn’t be too far away. There’s tracking equipment built into my suit. I can look for them tomorrow. With any luck they’ll have stayed near the capsule.’ She heard what she was saying and groaned inwardly. Staying in one place was going to be the last thing Tameka would do.
Scott looked up at her, meeting her gaze for the first time since they had entered the barn.
‘Where do they come from?’
‘My friends?’
‘No. The Sunless, of course.’
‘Ah,’ Bernice said, puzzled. She shook her head. ‘Who are they, then?’
The village was made up of a few stone buildings, which nestled in the sticky trees. From here among the trees, Bernice couldn’t see any design to the village or uniformity to the buildings.
They looked as if they had been hastily dropped on to the landscape. The architecture was both exciting and naive, and definitely amateur – some of it was already crumbling. Bernice was reminded of one of the art degree shows back at St Oscar’s on Dellah – fired-up talent with little experience to support it. One of the buildings looked like a stone igloo, with spiralling designs carved into its rounded walls. Another was rectangular, built of huge stone blocks, each of which had been painted a bright colour. Bernice imagined a huge toddler appearing over the tops of the trees to reclaim their building bricks.
The streets were full of people. Humans living alongside a handful of alien races, some of whom Bernice recognized from her travels. Others were new to her. Strange and beautiful in their novelty. The humans weren’t particularly beautiful. They had large hands and feet, thin limbs and flat bellies. No one else shared Scott’s curious ancestry. The street was busy with voices of greeting, laughter and argument. Children of a half-dozen races scampered in the dust, playing the complicated games children always seemed to invent for themselves. Games that always seemed to involve lots of shouting and pointing and thumping.
Surprisingly, all of the adults were dressed in the same type of rough coveralls as Scott wore.
Three yellow bands across the chest of an otherwise grey outfit. This one example of conformity in the midst of so much diversity was strange. She was about to ask Scott about it, when he began to speak: ‘I’ll go and speak with my friend. I’ll come back with a uniform for you.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’
‘No, it would be best if you stay among the trees, out of sight.’
Bernice had a bad feeling about this. ‘May I ask why?’
‘Don’t you know?’ he started, averting his gaze. It was a moment before Bernice realized that Scott was embarrassed. It was the first time that he’d appeared unsure of himself. His practical, straightforwardness had disappeared beneath blushes. ‘You’re not supposed to be here. The treaty says . . . Well, there’s a . . . a rule about it.’
‘I thought as much. This is a prohibited world, right?’ Something about the way he had pronounced the word ‘rule’ nagged at her, but she pressed on, ‘Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t going to be one of those friendly, civilized rules like free milk for all schoolchildren or an equal age of consent?’
He moved off, talking over his shoulder. ‘No off-worlders. Not alive ones anyway. Stay here.’
Bernice sat down and leant against a tree. She’d been half expecting something like this, of course. Well, you don’t go crashing on a