Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [0]
MIKE TUCKER
Published by BBC Worldwide Ltd,
Woodlands, 80 Wood Lane
London W12 0TT
First published 2000
Copyright © Mike Tucker 2000
The moral right of the author has been asserted Original series broadcast on the BBC
Doctor Who and TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC
ISBN 0 563 55597 1
Imaging by Black Sheep, copyright © BBC 2000
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham Cover printed by Belmont Press Ltd, Northampton FOR:
Sophie and Sylvester
(without whom... )
Robert
(at last the fledgling flies the coop... ) Heather
(for opening a nice new chapter... )
Thanks to:
Steve Cole & Sue Cowley (the Fleshsmith team), Justin Richards, Jac Rayner, Rachel Brown, Andy (Baz) Tucker; Mum, Mark Morris & family, Angela & Martin, and Gary Russell & the Big Finish Crew.
Fleshsmith depicted on the cover designed and built by Mike Tucker.
Make-up by Sue Cowley.
Fleshsmith played by Steve Cole.
Contents
Trailer
Pre-title Sequence
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Tag Scene
About the Author
Trailer
Fog curled around the Doctor’s legs in writhing, snake-like coils. He stepped forward gingerly, feet slipping on the mud-slick ground of the graveyard.
An owl hooted in the distance and the Doctor craned his neck back, peering into the gloom. The TARDIS lurked in the mist, a black coffin shape in the shadows. Shivering, the Doctor continued forward, twigs and dead leaves crackling underfoot.
He almost tripped over the gravestone. It suddenly loomed from the heavy clouds.
The Doctor stopped, staring. Then he heaved the shovel from his shoulder and started to dig.
Pre-title Sequence
The two brightly plumed eagles soared in elegant circles, drifting higher and higher as they caught the thermals rising off the mountain side. Ace watched them as they spiralled lazily into the morning air, shielding her eyes against the sun.
Suddenly the eagles swooped away, rocketing down the mountain, becoming tiny dots against the distant patchwork of the countryside.
Ace grinned and flicked a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. The eagles had been tracking her since she started her climb. They must have got used to her. Or got hungry.
Her headset crackled into life.
‘Are you going to hang there all day looking at the wildlife, or are you going to attempt this overhang?’
‘OK, Gatti, OK.’ Ace adjusted her grip, digging the points of her boots into the tiny crevasses on the rock face. Gatti was right, damn her. She shouldn’t be so easily distracted. There were easier ways of getting killed.
She stared down the rock face. There was a glint of light from the base of the mountain. Gatti. Watching her progress.
Those damn power-zoom viewers of hers were good. Gatti had already been critical of her technique on several occasions –
and with good reason. Ace was well out of practice. She twisted back to the rock face. She had known that this was going to be the most difficult part of the climb. From the ground it had looked easy enough, but now that she was here...
The surface was like glass. Barely any handholds at all.
She craned her neck. The plateau was tantalisingly close, but the overhang was going to be tricky.
Ace shifted her position and stretched her head back, looking for the outcrop she had spotted from the ground.
There. To her right.
She clipped her harness on to the rope in front of her and reached back for her piton gun. The metal of the handgrip was hot against her palm, heated by the blazing sun. She hefted it to her shoulder, threaded her rope through the barrel and sighted it along the rock wall. She pulled the trigger and there was a satisfying whine as the power pack spun into life.
Ace smiled with satisfaction as a piton appeared