Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [16]
„Er... not so you‟d notice.‟
The Brigadier, who had already finished his fourth Scotch, broke in. „Are you trying to tell us that... that thing is an insect?‟
„Not exactly...‟ The Doctor paused as if to marshal his thoughts.
Must be like trying to explain trigonometry to a couple of toddlers in nursery school, thought Sarah.
„All physiological details of the body, with very few exceptions, show their evolutionary function in their shape, or their position, or both. Sometimes the development of an organ is so fitted to its purpose that it seems to be teleological - but no doubt you‟d agree with me, Lethbridge-Stewart, that such a way of looking at it is erroneous.‟
„Oh, absolutely. Couldn‟t have put it better myself,‟ said the Brigadier, reaching for the bell to summon the stewardess.
„Teleological?‟ asked Sarah.
„The idea that evolution is mediated by a preordained future purpose.‟
Sarah thought for a bit. „You mean... like... like evolution had no way of knowing that we were going to wear glasses, yet look where it put our ears?‟
„Sorry,‟ she added. The look on the Brig‟s face told her that
this was no time for joking. But the Doctor didn‟t seem to
mind.
„In a way, that‟s just what I do mean. It was a very popular view before Charlie came up with the obvious answer.‟
„Charlie who?‟ said the Brigadier, as the air-hostess arrived with several more miniature bottles and an air of resignation.
„Charlie Darwin. Bit of a plodder old Charlie, but he got there in the end.‟
The biggest name-dropper in the universe, the Doctor!
Sarah was still not used to somebody like him caring about such things. Or perhaps it was the other way round - he just didn‟t care...?
„So what‟s that got to do with the price of turnips?‟ she said.
„The asilid has the habit of stabbing its prey - another insect; it might be one of your friends, Sarah, a bee perhaps -
stabbing it in the neck with its proboscis. Though perhaps it should more properly be called its hypopharynx...‟
„Oh, for Pete‟s sake...‟ said the Brigadier, whose glass was nearly empty again.
„Quite right, quite right. What it‟s called hardly matters to the poor old bee. You see, the asilid injects its saliva into the body of its prey; and the saliva has proteolytic enzymes in it which... all right, all right... It has what you might call digestive juices, which liquefy the bee‟s innards. And then all the asilid has to do is suck out its dinner. Simple.‟
The Brigadier had lost his air of irritation. He was leaning forward, listening intently. He said, „I see what you mean.
Those bodies...‟
„As soon as I saw Sarah‟s snap, I realised the creature‟s physiognomy could have only one function. And I‟m sorry to say that I was right.‟
While the Doctor was speaking, Sarah had pulled the Polaroid print out of her pocket. The Skang looked as if it were drinking from the bowl with its trunk thing, but...
„You mean it‟s not a statue - and it‟s going around sucking out the...‟ She could hardly finish the thought, let alone the sentence.
And where was the Skang now?
Jeremy tried to remember why he‟d gone looking for Brother Alex, without success. It didn‟t seem to matter, though. After all, he‟d met Mother Hilda, and had a whizzo drink; and that nice fellow who‟d brought him back to the dormitory (one of the guards, wasn‟t he?) had been so kind; and then there were all those lovely people they‟d met on the way, who‟d smiled at him as if he was their bestest friend in all the world..
Smashing idea, putting all the London brothers and sisters together in one room. He was sleeping just above one of his closest friends, Brother Paul - it was quite an adventure, having to climb a ladder to go to bed! All in all, much better than being in a five-star hotel. More fun.
Jeremy Fitzoliver snuggled down into the featherbed comfort of the thin kapok mattress on the utilitarian springs of his iron bedstead, and fell into a slumber of deep content.
CHAPTER SIX
First class in the air, just for PR, thought Sarah, but once