Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [57]
„Not violets?‟ said Sarah, uncertainly.
Pete Andrews suddenly burst out laughing. „You‟re round the bend, the lot of you. It‟s unmistakable. That‟s the smell of bacon frying in the open air!‟
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was the Doctor who noticed first.
Still chuckling over Pete‟s ludicrous interpretation of the flower-like scent - yet pigeon-holing the oddity of their different reactions as something to be considered later - he turned to look at the island.
Now that they were no longer trying to see through the thick mist, the landing place was quite visible, between cliffs of ancient volcanic rock that were white with nesting seabirds, some of which were circling overhead. At a glance, the island didn‟t look much like the description in the whaler‟s report.
„They were right about the seagulls, anyway,‟ said the Brigadier.
„They‟re gannets, aren‟t they?‟ said Sarah.
„Boobies!‟ said the Doctor, picking up the glasses that the Brigadier had discarded.
„I beg your pardon?‟ said the Brigadier, indignantly.
„The birds. They‟re boobies. More specifically, masked boobies. You get them all over the world in the tropics.‟
„They look like gannets,‟ said Sarah.
„I thought you did Biology at school,‟ replied Doctor, looking through the glasses at the beach. „Gannets don‟t have black tails.‟ He paused. „Well, well, well,‟ he went on, „the developers have been busy.‟
He was surprised to feel the glow of pleasure that surged up inside him at the sight of a beach of golden sand framed by lush greenery covered with flowers. A number of figures clad in white were gathered near the shore, gazing out towards the ship. Behind the beach was what could only be thought of as a street: a double row of little pavilions or stone chalets of shining white (of course!) separated by a wide avenue of elegant palms, curving away into the interior, the causeway of golden sand looking for all the world like the yellow-brick road in Oz.
„Here, Lethbridge-Stewart, take a look,‟ he said, handing him the glasses.
„Good grief!‟ said the Brigadier, after a moment. „There you are you see, Doctor,‟ he went on. „I never did buy your doom-and-gloom scenario. We‟re going to look a proper lot of onions if we charge in all dressed up ready for World War Three. Like a police raid on the vicarage tea party. I‟ve always believed we were dealing with nothing more sinister than a few New Age Utopia merchants. Harmless nuts.‟
„I‟m not sure about the nutty bit,‟ said Sarah. „I jolly nearly joined, myself. I wish I had now.‟
Pete Andrews lowered his own binoculars. „Stand „em down, shall I? Bit hot in all that gear.‟
„Of course, of course,‟ replied the Brigadier, as if it went without saying.
Down below on both sides of the boat deck there was a rising tide of chatter from the two landing parties. The Petty Officer‟s voice could be heard gently admonishing his charges. „Now, now. This is no way to behave on parade. Let‟s have a bit of hush, shall we? There‟s good boys.‟
He was utterly ignored.
„Can the boat trip stand, sir?‟ he called up, when Pete told him to belay action stations. „I‟m sure the lads would appre-ciate a run ashore.‟
Pete‟s instant agreement was drowned in a cheer, and a chorus of „For he‟s a jolly good fellow...‟
The Doctor stood watching and listening, and experiencing something he‟d felt only once before in his entire life (at infant school, when trying to come to grips with the spookiness of quantum mechanics). It was a very nearly total cognitive dissonance - a split between two areas of his understanding, both of which seemed self-evident. On the one hand, he could remember quite well the reasons why they were there, and they seemed as valid as ever; but on the other hand, he found himself agreeing with everything that the Brigadier was saying, and sharing the party feeling that seemed to be taking over.
What on earth was going on?
As he filed this puzzle away, too, for later analysis, his thoughts were interrupted by Sarah, turning back from inspecting