Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [104]
The tide rushed over the glowing pool of molten rock that the ship’s departure had created, turning instantly to a furiously hissing cloud of steam.
Mike and Charlotte had just finished filling Tegan in on the events of the past two days when the materialising TARDIS
swept panic through the R and D unit. Charlotte scrambled clear of the howling roar of the engines and ducked behind the nearest bed. Max Butler took several steps backwards before tripping over his own feet and plumping unceremoniously on to his backside.
‘What the hell is that?’ Max cried, clearly at the end of his tether.
‘The TARDIS, of course,’ Tegan said as if it was obvious.
Mike jumped up, raising his hands placatingly, as the craft solidified and the roar of its engines faded. ‘There’s no need to panic,’ he shouted, feeling like Corporal Jones in Dad’s Army. ‘This is a friend. He’s come to help us.’
I hope, he thought, crossing his fingers, remembering that the last time he had seen the Doctor he had been infected by the virus. He tensed, his hand moving instinctively to the butt of his holstered gun, as the TARDIS doors opened.
The Doctor stuck his head out and smiled. His eyes were clear and normal, his skin unblemished. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said expansively.
‘Are you OK, Doctor?’ Tegan asked.
He strode out, a dripping Turlough, rubbing his head ruefully with a towel, in tow, and patted her on the shoulder.
‘Never better.’
‘What’s the situation, Doctor?’ Mike asked.
The Doctor turned to him. ‘The Xaranti have gone. I managed to persuade them that humanity was a bit too gristly for their tastes.’
‘And this infection of theirs?’ Charlotte asked, rising from behind the bed.
‘I asked them if they wouldn’t mind taking their litter home with them. They were only too happy to oblige.’
Mike’s hand dropped to his side again. ‘So everyone’s cured?’
Suddenly the Doctor looked sombre. ‘Those who weren’t too badly affected should recover relatively quickly. But there’ll be a great many casualties. A large number of people won’t recover from the injuries that the Xaranti persuaded them to inflict on themselves.’
‘On themselves?’ Mike said. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘The catalyst for the infection was not viral or bacterial, but mental, which was why it resisted conventional analysis. It was caused by an incredibly powerful telepathic suggestion.
Pure thought in physical form.’ He looked around at the roomful of blank faces and said hastily, ‘Yes, well, best not to get caught up in idle chit-chat. I’ve got a console room full of battle-weary soldiers in need of urgent medical attention.
Mike, if you would be so kind...?’
Several minutes later, the Brigadier, Sergeant Benton and the four soldiers were laid out on the dormitory floor between the two rows of beds, being attended to by the medical staff.
‘Will they be all right, Doctor?’ Mike asked, trying not to sound anxious.
‘Good as new,’ the Doctor said encouragingly. ‘Their systems have had a bit of a shake-up, that’s all.’
Max sidled up, regarding the Doctor a little suspiciously. ‘Is it safe to leave this place yet?’ he asked.
‘Perfectly,’ said the Doctor, but stopped him as he turned away, with a hand on the arm. ‘But there are some nasty sights out there. Many of the people here will find them distressing.’
Max met the Doctor’s eyes for a moment, then gave a brief nod. ‘I’ll get on to it.’
‘Good man,’ said the Doctor. As Max left, he turned back to Mike and thrust out his hand. ‘Well, we’d better be off.
Goodbye, Mike.’
Mike looked taken aback by the Doctor’s abruptness.
‘Aren’t you going to wait until the Brigadier wakes up?’
‘Best not, eh? That way we can avoid unnecessary explanations.