Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [85]
Stephens chuckled, his own hot breath steaming up the visor of his environment suit. Oh, Doctor, the surface would have been only the first stage of our assault, a simple cleansing of the planet to secure the area. Once the mutations were all scrubbed off the face of the planet, and our sleeping population remobilised, we could make the first moves to reclaim the rest of space.
But how? asked the Doctor. The planet is completely isolated.
Psh, exclaimed Stephens. Physical obstructions are no obstacle to a hypertunnel.
Whats a hypertunnel? asked Anji. The word was emblazoned in red letters across a pair of impressive double doors. Warning signs and safety logos were dotted around the area. From behind the doors she could hear mechanical noises, the grinding of heavy machinery being operated.
Silver, who had been leading the way, turned back to face her. Its an advanced form of garbage disposal, he said. An enclosed system like this cannot afford to leave refuse lying around. Now, shall we see your descendants?
Anji followed Silver as he led the way down corridor after corridor. They seemed to be zigzagging through the bunker on a slight incline, as if descending into the bowels of the planet. Certainly, the air seemed danker, the atmosphere more pressurised, the further they went. She felt a chill around her, and pulled her coat tight.
Eventually they reached a dark bulkhead with a large wheel set into it. Silver reached out with his metal hand and twirled it like the dial on a washing machine. After a couple of revolutions of the wheel, the bulkhead opened with a hiss, cold air pouring out. Beyond the door was darkness. Silver stepped to one side, indicating that Anji should step inside first. She walked through the door, and found herself on a steel gantry, with a line of caskets to her left, and a drop to her right. Looking over the edge, she saw rows of caskets stretching downwards, disappearing into a mist far below her.
There are so many of them, said Anji. It was a banal statement, but an honest one.
Not that many, for the sole repository of humankind, said Silver. Humanity dominated their home planet, then their solar system, spreading ever outwards to conquer galaxies. Now this is all that is left. Not so many, when put in that context.
When you put it like that, it is odd, said Anji. To be in the same room as your entire species.
I know, said Silver, looking over the railing. I was human once, myself.
Anji looked up at him, startled by this sudden admission. She placed her human hand on his metal fist on the railing. It was an involuntary gesture, almost, on her part, a sudden desire to give comfort in the face of something far bigger than both of them. Their entire species, reduced to one refrigerated room.
His hand was hard and cold beneath hers, but she squeezed it anyway.
Wheres Anji?
The Doctors question jolted Fitz out of his evening reverie. After watching the parade he had wandered back to the Silver Palace, raided the bar and got a little drunk. Without anyone else around, it had seemed the only solution to his oncoming depression. In fact the booze had just knocked him out, allowing days of exhaustion to crush him. Clearly he had been running on stress too much lately.
No idea, he replied to the Doctors question, pulling himself up on his bed. The Doctor was framed by light, standing in the doorway of Fitzs room. Fitz couldnt see his face, had no way of making out his expression or mood. Drink? asked Fitz, freeing the bottle from where it had become jammed, stuck between the mattress and the wall.
No thank you, said the Doctor. She isnt in her room, he added. Or the orchard.
Fitz shrugged. Where could she be, then?
I dont know, said the Doctor. But Im not entirely comfortable losing touch with her in Hope. Im beginning to think this new age isnt going to be quite what it may seem.
Funny, I was thinking just the same thing, replied Fitz, thinking of those odd, twisted mutations in the tunnels beneath the