Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [43]
particularly for her. Mother and Father were educated, rich – at least by Espero standards. They’d purchased her the best education they could, paid for the most advanced edprogs to be shipped in for her. They’d bought Nessus for her (who was currently sleeping in a pool of beer at the end of the bar: he’d need a bath before she could take him home) and they’d furnished her with a beautiful home and beautiful friends. Her life, compared to that of many on Espero, was idyllic. She’d once travelled to Advent, a neighbouring city-nation, on a school trip, and had been appalled at how basic and primitive everything seemed, how weary the people looked, how full of resentment they’d appeared. And now Calamee wondered how the Esperons must seem to the Doctor. How much had he experienced? What wonders and peoples and technology had he seen? And how could somewhere as dull as Espero light up his eyes as it seemed to be doing now?
Calamee was broken from her reverie by a scream of laughter from a fat 77
woman, about her mother’s age, standing at the Doctor’s side. She watched as she linked her arm through the Doctor’s, pressed her face against his sleeve and looked up at him. She had too much make-up on, and it didn’t take Calamee long to work out what was going on there, surprising herself at how possessive of the Doctor she suddenly felt. The name of the bar seemed sourly ironic.
It had been an hour since they’d left the restaurant, and despite the Doctor’s newfound realisation that he’d been set free from the Palace in order for the fly camera to follow him, it seemed that it was the last thing on his mind right now.
Gently, he extricated himself from the woman’s grasp with an unselfcon-sciousness that was quite endearing. For a moment, as she watched him order up another round of drinks at the bar with his magic credit chip, he really and truly seemed alien.
Just as Trix was trying to work out how she and Fitz would pay for their meal
– or how they’d manage to get away without paying – she noticed that the other diners were all turning their heads towards the street at the end of the alley. She could hear raised voices, shouts. A couple of people stood up and stepped out on to the pavement to see what was happening.
‘Fitz!’ she hissed as he shovelled another mouthful of a rather pungent fish stew into his mouth. ‘This is our chance.’
‘Hmph?’
She jerked her head in the direction of the street.
‘There’s something going on – look, people are getting up to have a nosy.
We’ve come looking for the Doctor and he’s not here; you’ve stuffed yourself silly, and we still need to find him. So unless you’ve magically discovered a pocketful of local coins, it might be a good chance for us to do a runner.’
He pulled a pained, patient expression.
‘Well have you any better ideas?’ Neither of them had thought to check the TARDIS to see whether there were any bags of gold or diamonds that they could bring with them to pay for anything. Trix had an assortment of coins in her pocket and half a dozen credit cards in different names, but nothing that she thought would be accepted here. It never seemed to be a problem when they were with the Doctor. But now they were cast adrift, mundane things like that seemed painfully complicated.
Fitz opened his mouth, probably to argue with her, but a sudden wave of shouting from the street cut him off. Another three or four people got up from their seats to see what the fuss was all about, and Trix grabbed her bag.
‘Come on – make it look like you’re interested in what’s going on.’
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She stood, keeping her spoon deliberately in her hand, trying to look as curious as she could. Get yourself into the role, she thought. You really are interested in what’s going on out there. Which, she considered as she and Fitz stepped out on to the pavement, wasn’t that far from the truth.
At the T-junction at the end of the street, quite a crowd had gathered, but Trix could see from the way they were standing that something