Doctor Who_ Longest Day - Michael Collier [11]
Target ahead,' said one, its voice deep and strained. 'We have found it.'
Another glared with crusty orange eyes at controls seemingly welded into the organic-looking walls. 'Agreed. Close on nearest habitable area.'
The first creature to speak emitted a low crackling, like filthy deranged laughter. "That is target, Leader.'
The other creature swung its massive head as if confused, then slowly curled its lower lip, narrow teeth bared, white and pointed.'Close on target.'
***
'What a state!' said Sam.
'He needs help,' agreed the Doctor as they peered after the staggering figure.'Or a black coffee at the very least.'
'Maybe we're on a wine-tasting ship!' Sam piped up, quite surprised at how buoyant she was sounding. That bloke had given her the creeps. 'Yeah, the different time zones are there so they can pick up different vintages on the cheap! Bit like a Dover-to-Calais run -'
'Sam,' interrupted the Doctor, waving a hand for silence. "There's something very bad happening here, I'm sure of it.'
'There's something bad happening everywhere we go, isn't there? I don't think some lush wandering round a place as boring as this -'
'He came from that way,' said the Doctor, pacing up and down past the little streaks of blood on the wall and holding his fingers to his forehead. 'Saw something, perhaps, something that made him angry.'
'Come on then,' said Sam, setting off confidently along the corridor. 'I could do with something to ruin my good mood. Could do with a drink, come to think of it! Maybe we'll see whatever he saw too and become booze brothers.'
The Doctor followed Sam off into the gloom.
***
It took Anstaar only a few minutes to get ready. She started brushing her thick black hair, then looked at her reflection in the mirror and stopped.
Why bother making the effort this time of night? She'd see whatever stupid thing Vasid wanted her to see just in case it was something to do with Vost.
She'd never felt so uneasy. There was only Vasid around, and he'd sounded so strange. What was going on at Temporal Commercial Concerns the day they'd taken on Vasid anyway? His psychoscreening must've shown how socially inept he was. Or was that why they'd tucked him away here? Or if he was a dangerous psychotic he could probably fake the screening anyway -
No. Vasid was not a dangerous psychotic. The notion that he was had lodged itself under her thoughts, constantly there of late as if her mind was always working on two levels. It reminded her of the only time she'd ever fallen in love. Whatever she was doing would seem to have her full and undivided attention but another part of her was able to consider, imagine and generally concentrate a variety of emotions on her lover at the same time.
The thought of Vasid's sociopathy being the same as an image of love made her feel sick and extremely annoyed at herself.
She thought of the call button in the control room. How long would it take TCC agents to arrive for an investigation. A few days? What was she meant to do in the meantime? Lock herself in her room? If only she had an IX link, a way of transmitting her reports direcdy into the TCC net... Why was recognisable technology so scarce in this place? The computer had been so erratic of late - bolted on like an afterthought to that science-fiction mainframe, but not taking. It was like a graft that was being rejected, it was
-
'I talk some rubbish,' she said out loud, hoping for the comfort of her own voice, disappointed to hear it come out sounding so scared and unconvincing.
The door hummed open as she pressed the exit button. Outside in the corridor, a few feet from her door, a cleaning bot was humming away, spraying a sandlike material over a puddle of grey liquid. Anstaar smelled narcomilk and vomit.
She sighed. 'Stand by for great conversation,' she muttered. Irony sounding a lot more convincing than nervous supposition, she strode purposefully off towards the control room, leaving the bot to its labours.
***