Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [9]
Im not surprised. This new voice was cultured and morose, with a slightly lilting accent. It came from a man in late middle age, thin with sagging, depressed features. Unlike the others he was only wearing a coat rather than layers, although he appeared to have dressed in a hurry. One other thing sprang to Anjis attention this newcomer didnt have a single hair on him, as far as she could see. Not even eyebrows.
That sea could burn the skin off your body in seconds if you were to fall in, said the man. What were you doing down there?
The question was phrased innocently enough, but the edge to the mans tone and the evillooking weaponry brandished by his associates added a certain tension to the conversation.
Our ship landed on the ice, said the Doctor simply. We were walking towards here, when shots were fired. The ice began to break up. Our ship was lost, and we ran here. You wouldnt know who fired at us, would you?
Ah, said the man, putting on a slightly embarrassed expression. He pulled a hefty pistol from his coat, and waved it apologetically. That would have been me, Im afraid. I was trying to apprehend a particularly dangerous criminal. You didnt happen to see where he went, did you?
Someone ran past us, said Fitz. But I didnt get a good look. Why, what did this guy do?
The moroselooking man nodded to his associates to back off. They lowered their weapons and moved out of Anjis field of vision. Behind them lay a dark heap, a body resting in a pool of its own blood. As Anji approached it, she had a terrible feeling. Her feeling was confirmed as she got a closer look and she instinctively backed away, the Doctor gripping her shoulders supportively as she backed into him. Fitz made a low noise of disgust as he got a good luck at the grisly sight.
Decapitation, said the Doctor coldly.
Powlin watched the three strangers reactions to the headless cadaver with fascination; even by throwback standards their responses were unusual. The girl was shocked and distraught, as if unused to seeing such things, and made no attempt to disguise her distaste. The younger of the men was trying to appear relaxed, but was noticeably avoiding looking directly at the corpse. Most interesting of all was the older man, the Doctor. He was displaying a rich range of emotions, superficially consoling his associate while sneaking constant, fascinated glances at the corpse. His expression radiated a righteous sense of injustice at the murder, but beneath that, somewhere in his eyes, there seemed to be a flicker of passion, a delight in being presented with a dangerous, unpredictable situation, in being surrounded by lethal forces and having to negotiate his own way through such territory.
The Doctors interest precluded any possible involvement in the crime. Here was a man who knew nothing about the situation, but desperately wanted to know more. Powlin could relate.
These three are harmless, Powlin told his militiamen. Get the victim back to the watchtower, Ill meet up with you later. He turned to the Doctor and his associates. As for you, Ill need to know a bit more about who you are, and what you came to Hope for. My names Powlin, and as head of the militia I enforce the law around here. So, lets start with the basics. Who are you people?
Were travellers, said the Doctor. Powlin noted the Doctors flimsy clothing, the fuzzy and soft coat, the silky waistcoat. Suicidal dress in these parts. And until we crashed on the ice we were just... travelling.
Powlin found the idea of sailing across an acid sea for no apparent reason so incomprehensible that he could think of little to say in reply. These strangers, wherever they came from and whoever they were, didnt seem to have any relevance to the job in hand. While the Doctor might be an unknown quantity, aside from being throwbacks the other two seemed harmless, the short girl shrinking into her coat to escape the cold, the Fitz person stamping his feet to keep warm. Lost in the cold, just like the rest of us,