Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book Two - Lawrence Miles [110]
As one, the eleven freaks in the line-up lowered their eyes, as if ashamed en masse that their secret had been spoken out loud. Kreiner felt himself sweating under his armour, and the salt water made tiny sparks in the electrical systems of his joints. Somewhere in the back of his head, something was telling him that he had absolutely no reason to stand here listening to all of this, but the rest of his brain was telling him to shut up and pay attention. Meanwhile, his men were looking at each other and shrugging, obviously not understanding a word of it.
Slowly and casually, I.M. Foreman strolled over to the first of the freaks, and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. This is my next incarnation,’ he explained. ‘This is who I’ll be, after I regenerate for the first time. I’m in my first body now, in case you were wondering. As you can see, Mohandas here is quite humanoid. Gallifreyan-normal, very nearly.’
‘But the others…’ the companion prompted. Kreiner saw that her eyes were fixed on the little grey creature.
‘Did you know that we absorb DNA from the things we eat?’ the showman said. ‘Not just Gallifreyans. All of us. All living things. It doesn’t matter whether it’s meat or plants. live flesh or fresh fruit. Our bodies break down the things in our stomachs, and some of the food’s DNA always gets stuck in our systems. Our own genes suck up the alien genes. We start to turn into whatever we swallow.’
He turned his face up to the heavens, just so the gods could see him shrugging. ‘A universe of cannibals,’ he exclaimed. ‘Every one of us a geek. Forcing our own evolution by what we eat. I mean, the amounts of DNA we pick up are so tiny, they never really make a difference. Not usually.’
Then he smiled, and the smile seemed to be directed at everyone in the square, Remote and ally alike. He was going into some kind of routine, Kreiner realised. His last great performance.
‘Regeneration throws a Gallifreyan’s DNA into a state of chaos,’ the man went on. ‘While his body’s rebuilding itself, all kinds of foreign DNA can find its way into the process. If a Time Lord eats a bacon sandwich before he dies, there’s a good chance of his new body having an awful lot of pig genes in it.’
Even the Doctor was frowning now, Kreiner saw. ‘That’s not supposed to happen,’ the old bastard mumbled. ‘It was a problem in the early days of regenerative technology, I grant you. But the problem was ironed out thousands of years ago.’
I.M. Foreman didn’t say a word. He just tapped his foot. ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor.
‘Oh yes. Of course. Carry on.’
‘My regenerative cycle’s a lot less stable than yours,’ the showman told the Doctor. ‘I’m one of the old school. Not likely to turn into a pig, but a lot more open to mutation.’ With that, he began to move along the line of freaks, indicating each one in turn. ‘Like I said, Mohandas is my second incarnation. And he’s a consummate geek. He’s spent his lifetime eating anything that moves. He sees it as his mission in life to keep expanding his genetic horizons. To push his biological envelope as far as it’ll go. There’s all sorts of alien DNA stored inside that body of his. Animal and plant species from thousands of different times and places. He’s a walking zoo, basically. So, when he regenerates, all that biological data is going to end up getting woven into the cells of his new body. Of my new body.’
The next in line seemed human, although every inch of his skin was covered in scar tissue. He was stripped to the waist, so Father Kreiner could see the patterns on the man’s body from the top of his grubby bald head all the way down to his belt. There were so many lines etched into his flesh, so many swirls and patterns and vortices, that Kreiner couldn’t make out any of the man’s other features. Perhaps that was the whole point.
‘My third incarnation,’ I.M. Foreman told his audience. ‘Melmoth, the Map of Scars. The animal DNA from Mohandas is still sleeping inside me by this point, but I’ve started to mutate a little.