Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [59]
As you can see from these scans, the voice was saying, our patient here is not human, and neither is he one of the surface mutations. He has many totally alien qualities, although most of these would seem to be dormant, the patients basic life signs operating at human normal. One might speculate that this condition is perhaps due to a recent operation there are signs of surgery around the chest area, although I would hesitate to guess what kind of surgery has been performed.
Just a little exploratory selfsurgery, the Doctor said, rolling up into a sitting position. He found himself in a glass bubble on a rough concrete floor. He blinked, taking in the sights a lab of some sort, in a concrete structure strewn with pipes. A handful of ageing humans opposite him. As you said, my insides are terribly interesting, so I thought Id cut a hole, pop my head through and have a look. Unfortunately for me, it was terribly dark in there and I forgot to take a torch.
The humans were staring at him, seemingly surprised by his presence even though it was him they had been discussing. The Doctor noted their deathly pallor and weak posture. They had been living in darkness for some time. Their clothes, however, were impeccably neat, and the Doctor found himself adjusting his cravat in retaliation.
You know, Im surprised you left me in my own clothes, he said. Isnt it standard to strip the subject naked, dehumanise him? Isnt that the way you treat people when you lock them in cages, experiment on them? His voice began to rise, anger slipping in. Dont you do everything you can to deny their humanity, to excuse what you do to them?
Why? said one of the humans, stepping forward. He was the man who had just been speaking, and he had more confidence than his fellows. He wore a white lab suit, and his dark hair was slicked back and thinning. His nose was long and sharp, his eyes a watery blue. He must have been in his mid fifties.
Why would we need to do that? said the darkhaired man. When you so clearly arent human anyway. He stepped forward to examine the Doctor with interest. Besides, we werent going to touch you. God knows what you might have carried in from the surface.
Were below ground, said the Doctor, then remembered how he had got to where he was. The submarine. The sound of dripping water as he lay there. No, not below ground, at the bottom of the sea. This is some kind of deep sea bunker.
Quite correct, said the darkhaired man. This is a deepsea, selfcontained environment free from the pollutants of the rest of this wretched planet. Im Stephens, by the way, and Im in charge of the project you so rudely interrupted.
Project? said the Doctor. Is that what you call it, slaughtering innocent people for some pointless scientific endeavour?
Those arent people! hissed Stephens, spitting as he leaned over the case in which the Doctor was enclosed. They are mutants, an aberration of the human race.We are the people here, and only my project can give us any hope of leaving this bunker. So dont attempt to take a highhanded attitude with me, whoever you are.
The Doctor, said the Doctor calmly, relaxed now he had successfully riled Stephens, passing his anxiety on. You do know you people have got all the clichés wrong, dont you? Its supposed to be the humans who live on the surface and the mutants who live underground, not the other way around. He smiled what he hoped was an infuriating smile.
Ah, but one thing remains the same, said Stephens with a cruel smile: The humans still hold the knives. He nodded to a nearby operating table. And its the animals who get dissected.
The Doctors smile faded.
Anji found Fitz in his room among the staff quarters, lying on his bed and trying not to move.
How are you? she asked.
Nauseous every time I move, Fitz replied. So in general Im trying not to move much. Whats it like out there?
Boredom Central, replied Anji. With all resources diverted to Silvers project, the Silver Palace was almost entirely