Doctor Who_ Delta and the Bannermen - Malcolm Kohll [1]
‘Would you like a digestive biscuit, Doctor?’ asked Mel.
‘Hmm? Oh, no thank you – I find them structurally unsound.’
‘You mean they fall into the cup when you dunk them?’
said Mel.
‘Correct,’ replied the Doctor putting up his feet and draining the last drops from his teacup.
The TARDIS streaked through the vacuum of space...
Chapter One
The tollport hovered in space like a gigantic dandelion, infra-red flightpaths radiating from its central core in every direction. Inside the TARDIS the Doctor locked onto the landing trajectory and turned to the scanner as the tollport slowly filled the screen. Mel sat quietly watching the time rotor sigh and hiss through its rhythmic oscillation, eager to be through the tollport and speeding towards their next destination. She found the whole business of paying a fee to be allowed to travel through infinite space something of a paradox, but the Doctor had assured her that the fees which were raised allowed the Confederation to erect barriers at some of the more dangerous hyperpasses. When all was said and done, Mel would rather suffer a slight inconvenience than expose anyone to unnecessary danger.
The TARDIS tripped the automatic incoming warning device, triggering the loudspeaker inside the control room.
The tinny mechanical voice spoke its bland message: ‘Attention incoming craft. You are approaching tollport G715. Please have your credits ready.’
The Doctor started rummaging through his pockets, searching in vain for any credits.
‘It’s strange how in some galaxies these tollports spring up like mushrooms, yet in others you can go for light years without seeing a single one,’ he said. The Doctor drew a large spotted hankie from his pocket and dropped it on the flight deck before him. Bathed in a luminescent glow from the instrument panel the hankie ball appeared to throb with life. The Doctor carefully unfolded it, hoping to find a credit hidden within its folds. All he found was a fluff-covered humbug.
Mel was staring anxiously at the scanner, ‘Er... Doctor...’
The Doctor popped the sweet into his mouth. Unaware of Mel he continued with his theory: ’I think it relates to the way in which space was first developed – there never was a consistent three-dimensional planning policy.’
Meanwhile, Mel’s face had grown grave. Something on the screen was worrying her.
‘Doctor, something doesn’t look right,’ she said. ‘Only the landing lights are on. It looks abandoned.’
But the Doctor was by now so absorbed in his diatribe against haphazard planning that he barely heard her. ’Of course by ignoring the overspill from the fourth dimension entirely they sometimes built one port right on top of another, only realizing their error when there was an interface slippage.’
On the scanner the tollport appeared grey and life-less.
Mel’s tone had become urgent, ‘This is serious, Doctor.
There’s something wrong...’
‘I know it’s serious!’ he replied. ‘I don’t have any change.’ The grim-looking tollport now filled the scanner screen. ’Please take five credits from the kitty,’ said the Doctor.
Mel picked up the kitty, a striped biscuit tin, and tipped it out into her hand – empty! ‘There’s nothing in here.
Again!’ she moaned. A look of bemused interest flashed across the Doctor’s face. ’That kitty defies all known physical laws. We always fill it up and yet it’s always empty!’ He turned to the scanner and his face suddenly set in consternation. ’Mel!’ he whispered urgently, ‘There’s something wrong. Only the landing lights are on!’
Mel gave the Doctor a sideways glance which was more eloquent that anything she could possibly have said.
The TARDIS sank gently onto the target markings on the runway – three concentric rings on a concrete slab. The time rotor gave a final sigh and shut down as the flashing