Doctor Who_ Last Man Running - Chris Boucher [63]
was turning slowly in a small eddy of its own, enveloped and lit by a strobing blaze of plasma ball-lightning. It stood out from everything else because it was the only thing that was continuously lit and because it was the only thing of any size that remained in one place, showing no sign of collapsing in on itself and falling smaller and smaller as it separated down and down into the basic molecular structures of its usable elements.
The Doctor stood in the glowing-floored gallery to which the light pulses had finally drawn them, and looked down on the fitfully flickering darkness. He assumed the narrow ledge, protected and enclosed by a colourless and diamond-hard moulded plate, was intended as a viewing gallery. It seemed unlikely that it was for tourists, so presumably the idea was that technicians could monitor the processes and make appropriate adjustments, but there were no controls of any kind that he could discover.
‘What is that?’ Fermindor asked, indicating the TARDIS, which was almost directly below them.
‘How would I know?’ the Doctor said. He peered at the wall, which seemed to be made of the same material as the cell from which Fermindor had released him. He was hoping to find control pads like the one Fermindor had used, but there were none that he could see.
‘This doesn’t look like a way out to me,’ Fermindor said. ‘I was hoping there was going to be a way out here. Can you see a way out here?’
‘Only as recycled molecules. Does being part of a pack-hunting snake or a psychedelic toad appeal to you?’
‘Are you sure that thing isn’t a way out?’ Once again Fermindor drew his attention to the TARDIS. ‘There’s something very peculiar about it.’
‘Like what?’ the Doctor asked.
Fermindor hesitated. ‘Uh...’
‘Yes?’ the Doctor pressed.
Before Fermindor could come up with an answer, there was a movement at the entrance to the gallery and Belay staggered in looking dishevelled and out of breath, but otherwise unhurt and robustly healthy. ‘I thought nobody else was alive,’ he gasped.
‘I expect you heard us talking, didn’t you?’ the Doctor said.
‘As you were passing?’ He smiled, but the wryness was lost on the other man.
‘No,’ Belay said shaking his head vigorously. ‘I followed the light.’
‘How did you escape?’ Fermindor asked.
‘I don’t remember,’ Belay said earnestly. ‘I woke up.’
‘In a heap?’ the Doctor suggested, still wondering whether he was he being unnecessarily suspicious.
‘And it seemed like a good idea to follow the light,’ Belay finished.
The Doctor stared down at the TARDIS. He was beginning to feel outmanoeuvred, as though he had no choice but to go along with the two of them. To go along with the three of them, really, since the runner was in the background of all this. These two seemed open and sincere. They believed what they were saying. It might be naive of him, but he was ready to believe them too.
‘What is that?’ Belay asked. He was looking at the TARDIS.
In the lightning-sparkled darkness it was true that the TARDIS stood out, vividly. And it was true that the Doctor had been looking directly at the TARDIS. But, coming into all this for the first time, was the TARDIS really what you would look at first? And was that the question you would ask?
‘Too quick, the Doctor said. ‘Too obvious.’
‘Too many?’ the runner’s voice suggested.
Looking genuinely alarmed, Belay and Fermindor searched around for the source of the voice.
‘Two of them was over-egging the pudding a little,’ the Doctor said.
‘Over-egging the pudding? Is that in the sacred texts?’
‘No.’
Fermindor said, ‘Who are you talking to, The?’
‘It’s your runner,’ the Doctor said.
‘My runner?’ He clearly had no idea what the Doctor was talking about. ‘What runner? Where is he?’
The runner’s voice said: ‘There you are, you see? I delayed things for as long as I could but there still wasn’t long enough for a full... briefing.’
‘I thought you were deliberately wasting time,’ the Doctor remarked.
‘You probably noticed you were walking in a circle too, didn’t you? It’s my experience