Doctor Who_ Earthworld - Jacqueline Rayner [64]
Or. . . had he?
He was still made of flesh, wasn’t he? Therefore he could bleed. Couldn’t he?
He thought back. With all the running around over rocky plains and being attacked by strange monsters that went on in his everyday life with the Doctor, he must have shed some blood at some point since he became bioconstruct-Fitz. It was just that for the life of him he couldn’t think of any examples right now. Maybe he couldn’t bleed. Maybe his future future-flesh was strong and impervious. Maybe he couldn’t even die. He’d been worried for nothing! The fake Fitz body would just go on functioning whatever they threw at it. Not that he wanted to risk testing that out, but. . . well, a nice thought to carry around with him. Might just about make up for not being a real person any more.
The blood puddle spread a little further. Fitz crab-crawled away a bit more.
And put his hand slap bang right on Elvis’s sword, still clenched in his death grip. He yelled in pain, snatching his hand away, and whipped out a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding. So much for that theory. Guess he could die too, then. Bummer.
And while he was thinking these comforting thoughts, the triplets came in.
Great.
Fitz leapt to his feet, narrowly avoiding tripping over Elvis. He backed away as far as he could before the wall got in his way.
Antarctica rushed forward. Fitz somehow managed to back away a few inches more. ‘Fitz Fortune!’ she cried. ‘You’re hurt!’
Fitz waved his hankie-bandaged hand in the air without taking his eyes off her. ‘Just a scratch,’ he said. ‘It’s not like I’ve been, oh, I don’t know, shot dead or anything.’
‘Good,’ said Asia. ‘Because you’re going to take us to Earth. That is, if you want it to remain “just a scratch”.’
Fitz boggled. ‘I can’t take you to Earth,’ he said. ‘Surely Daddy can buy you a spaceship if you’re that desperate. Hey, you could probably build one yourselves, you seem to have quite a way with a screwdriver.’
Asia shook her head. ‘That’s not what we mean. We want you to take us to the real Earth.’
‘To ancient Rome,’ added Africa.
If You Prick Me, Do I Not Bleed?
117
‘To twentieth-century London!’ sighed Antarctica.
‘Well, I definitely can’t do that,’ Fitz said.
Asia held up the Walkman he’d been listening to in his dressing room earlier.
‘Oh yes you can. You travel in time and space in a machine called the TARDIS.
It can go anywhere. It can take us to Earth.’
‘Oh great,’ said Fitz. ‘So that –’ he indicated the Walkman – ‘isn’t actually a listening-to-music device, it’s a read-Fitz’s-mind device? Typical. Just typical.
But if you’ve read my mind, you’ll know that I can’t control the TARDIS.’
‘Don’t believe you,’ said Asia. ‘We saw you arrive, in your mind.’
‘You obviously didn’t look close enough! Yeah, all right, I travel in the TARDIS. But I can’t pilot it. Only the Doctor can.’
‘But we don’t have the Doctor,’ Africa drawled. ‘We have you. You have to do what we say.’
Fitz hit his forehead in exasperation. ‘I’m not saying I won’t: I’m saying I can’t. Which bit don’t you understand?’
‘Are you really telling the truth, Fitz Fortune?’ Antarctica asked.
‘Yes! Yes, I am! I mean, apart from the inability to pilot a time machine, what other reason could I have for refusing to take you three lovely girls back to my home planet?’
‘Mmm,’ said Antarctica.
‘I could find out if he’s telling the truth,’ breathed Africa.
‘I am telling the truth!’ yelled Fitz.
Asia took Africa’s arm, steering her away from Fitz. ‘There is another way to find out,’ she said. ‘Go and fetch the machine.’ Africa smiled and left the cell.
The machine? Nothing good could possibly be called ‘the machine’. ‘What machine?’ Fitz asked.
‘This is very important to us,’ said Asia. ‘We have to find out if you’re telling the truth. You lost the death match, you see. The only reason you’re still alive is because