Doctor Who_ Delta and the Bannermen - Malcolm Kohll [5]
Wales England. Yes sir... yes sir. We’ll get right onto it, sir.’ Weismuller hung up, looking stunned. Throwing his shoulders back he strode over to the car and Hawk.
‘Well?’ demanded Hawk.
‘That was no less than the President’s right-hand man.
Whew!’ Weismuller seemed very impressed.
By this time Hawk’s patience was wearing thin. ‘Come on, Weismuller, spill the beans. Why the red alert?’
Weismuller glanced nervously around, then leant forward in a confidential whisper.
‘Says that Cape
Canaveral has just fired a space rocket with an artificial satellite.’
Hawk blinked in disbelief then started grinning. ’This is history in the making, Weismuller!’ he said. Then his brow wrinkled, ‘Uh... so what are we supposed to do about it?’ Weismuller gestured at the expanse of sky.
‘Surveillance, Hawk. It’s our job to track the thing,’ he said.
Hawk gave a low whistle. Weismuller got into the car.
The silence was broken by the grind of the starter motor, and they moved away through the pines.
Chapter Four
Behind the tollbooth was a vast hangar, entered through a labyrinth of passages. Dimly lit and damp, the passages reminded Mel of the underground burial chambers she and the Doctor visited on the planet Zoth. She remembered thinking at the time that the cold dank air seemed completely void of life, as if it hadn’t been exposed to the energy of a living organism, however small, for aeons and aeons. That’s what it felt like here, although she knew it couldn’t possibly be true. Peering through the gloom Mel could see that the walls had been decorated with murals. At one time they must have been brightly coloured, but the paint had grown dull and cracked over the years. The murals depicted space travellers from countless galaxies.
She recognized Solterns, Giboks and those funny little creatures the Wormese, who, without the aid of appendages of any kind, propel themselves along by the sheer force of their exhalations.
The Doctor peeled back a large flake of paint. ‘Aha, just as I thought,’ he said. ‘Of a very inferior quality. This paint is barely two thousand years old. Lack of central planning again, I’m afraid. It’s a wonder these places last as long as they do.’ The Doctor shook his head and sighed deeply.
The Tollmaster was leading the Doctor and Mel through the maze. In her hand Mel clutched her small suitcase. ‘Are we going to have a whole cruiser to ourselves?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said the Tollmaster, ‘You’re going on a scheduled tour with the Navarinos – from the tri-polar moon Navarro. Squat hairy beings which resemble artichokes, I believe.’
‘Won’t they be rather conspicuous on Earth?’
‘Not at all. They’ve gone through a transformation arch,’ said the Tollmaster as they suddenly rounded a bend and saw the great expanse of open hangar before them.
A 50s streamliner bus with ‘Nostalgia Trips’ written on the side was parked before them. Beside the bus was a square metallic arch, surrounded by a group of people all in 1950’s clothes. They were all trying to urge a round, leafy, hairy creature to enter the arch. Emitting shrill whistling noises it waddled towards the arch, hesitated a few moments and then retreated back to its original position.
Finally, with a mixture of taunts and cat-calls they encouraged the Navarino to go through the hoop to be transformed into creatures who would pass for humans on a day out. The Doctor looked somewhat sceptically at the leafy being, ‘Is that one of the tourists?’ he asked.
‘No, he’s your pilot,’ said the Tollmaster.
‘This should he interesting,’ muttered the Doctor, his eyes resting on the side of the bus.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Mel.
‘Nostalgia Trips – the most notorious holiday firm in five galaxies. They’ve had endless disasters.’ The Tollmaster turning to the Doctor gave him a brittle smile.
‘They may have had a few problems in the past but that’s all been sorted out. This trip is going to be different. You’ll see...’ he said. The Doctor gave a half smile but remained silent.
Mel was flicking through the glossy