Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [13]
and muggy, and clots of insects danced in the few shafts of light that struggled to find their way to ground level. Nessus sleepily acknowledged them, squeaking half-heartedly.
The Doctor had explained, as best he could, how he couldn’t remember anything before waking up in the woods outside the city. He’d stumbled around for a while, aching and confused, before wandering into the city. He’d told a stunned-looking young man that he was new here, and asked for suggestions about where he ought to go. The man had suggested the Palace and given him directions.
‘And then he ran off,’ finished the Doctor. ‘I think I must have scared him somehow.’
‘Being an offworlder is enough to scare most people around here. And, not to put too fine a point on it, the fact that you’re white doesn’t help.’
‘Really?’ The Doctor was astonished. That possibility had never crossed his mind, although, now that Calamee mentioned it, it did seem rather obvious.
‘As you might have noticed, white faces around here are rather few and far between. What happened when you got to the Palace?’
‘They let me in.’
‘Just like that?’ Calamee seemed amazed.
‘I got the feeling they’d been expecting me. Nothing they said, just a vague sense that I wasn’t a complete surprise to them. I was shown to a room and told to wait; that someone would be along to question me later.’
The Doctor rubbed his neck, feeling the smooth, tingling patch of raw skin that he’d discovered on his way into the city. He had a couple on his arms and one on his leg, and he could feel a large one wrapping around his ribcage.
They itched slightly.
‘And did they? Did you meet the Imperial Family?’
The Doctor shook his head.
‘There was something in the way they said “question me later” that sounded like a euphemism for “beat me with sticks” so I decided to leg it. The Imperial Guard started chasing me, and the next thing I knew, you were throwing yourself in my way.’
‘Excuse me – I think you’ll find it was the other way around.’
‘Was it?’ The Doctor looked vague. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
‘And you don’t remember anything at all about how you came to be outside the city? What you’re doing on Espero?’
‘Espero? Is that what this planet’s called?’ He gave a thoughtful frown.
‘Espero. . . “hope” in Esperanto. Or are we talking Spanish here?’ He looked around, as if seeing the city for the first time. ‘Definite Moorish influences, don’t you think? An Earth colony. . . ’ He looked to her for help with raised eyebrows. ‘Sometime in the future?’
23
‘The future? That bang on your head must have been a pretty big one.’
‘No no no,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a bang on my head’ He paused. ‘Maybe it was.
But why am I thinking that this is all happening in the future? What’s all that about, then?’
He ran his hand though his hair and shook his head.
‘I can’t shake the feeling that I’m here for a reason, you know.’
‘Are you speaking spiritually or literally?’
‘Literally. I think.’ The Doctor looked around, and saw a couple of children standing in a doorway, watching him with dark, suspicious eyes.
‘Maybe it’ll all come back to me if I can find something familiar, something. . . ’ He waved his hands, grasping for a way to finish the sentence.
‘You need a doctor,’ Calamee said.
‘I am a doctor.’
‘No, a proper doctor. Someone who can take a look at you, examine you.
Maybe get your memory back.’
The Doctor hmmed, unconvinced. Somehow, he suspected that a ‘proper doctor’ wouldn’t be of much use. It was frustrating and tantalising at the same time, like the cloud of flies dancing out of reach around his head. He looked up and saw a particularly fat one, wobbling around above him.
‘What you looking at?’ he said grimly to it, before looking back at Calamee.
She looked at him dubiously.
‘I get the impression,’ she said, ‘that