Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [19]
She and the Doctor had been treated like royalty from the moment they entered the house. Mrs Rooth, her husband and two of their three daughters had swarmed around them, chattering wildly, getting them drinks, drying their coats, making them as comfortable as possible. The eldest daughter, Gatti, had acknowledged them with the typical surliness of a teenager, and then vanished to her room.
What had been bizarre was that as soon as they were seated the family had turned back to their television screens and barely said another word. Ace had been expecting to have to keep up a long and complex ribbon of lies about what programmes she had worked on and the locations she had been to, but other than the occasional check that they were all right, the family’s eyes never strayed from the flickering screens.
She had glanced across at the Doctor but he had merely smiled at her and began to browse through a telephone-directory sized programme guide, occasionally consulting his pocket watch.
Every time Ace tried to make conversation she had been waved into silence. Even when supper was served, the table was inset with screens arid the children ate with their eyes never leaving the programmes.
Only Gatti seemed to be different. She barely brought her eyes up from her food and excused herself as soon as she had eaten. Ace had decided that she had the right idea and eventually made her own excuses.
The Doctor caught up with her in the hallway. ‘Everything all right?’ he whispered.
Ace nodded. ‘It’s just that zombie central here is going to drive me potty, Professor. How long are we going to have to put up with this?’
‘Only a couple of nights. I promise. I want you to come with me to the Channel 400 building tomorrow, see if we can get past the commissionaires.’
Ace smiled. Good. He was involving her again.
‘Right, Professor. Early start.’
Satisfied that she wasn’t going to be abandoned again she had climbed up the stairs to her room. She was in a converted attic overlooking the city. Even late at night the distant towers were lit up bright as day, a gleaming line stretching into the night.
Now she just wanted a few hours peace and quiet.
Unpleasant synthesised music blared from the screen at the end of the bed. It was beginning to give Ace a headache.
She poked at some controls, but only succeeded in changing the channel. Roderik Saarl bounced into view, poking and jibing at some unfortunate member of the public.
The laughter of the studio audience was harsh and tinny.
There was a knock on the door. Ace crossed the room and opened it. The door slid back. Gatti glowered at her from the corridor.
‘Mum wanted to know if you wanted anything.’
Ace nodded at the television. ‘Shutting that thing off would be a start.’
Gatti stared at her in disbelief. ‘You want it off?’
‘Yeah but I can’t find the off switch.’ She stared at Saarl’s grinning features. ‘It’s enough to give you nightmares, isn’t it?
Living proof that you don’t have to be beautiful or talented to get your four minutes of fame.’
Gatti’s jaw dropped, then she gave a stifled giggle and stepped into the room. She punched a button and the door slid shut.
‘You should be careful what you say about Roderik Saarl.
If Mum heard you talking about him like that she’d have a fit!’
Ace snorted. ‘He’s only a television presenter, and not a very good one.’
Gatti gave her a sharp look. ‘I mean it: you say things like that in public and you’re liable to get lynched.’
Gatti reached under the bed and fumbled with a connection,‘Saarl’s practically a saint on this planet, it’s worth remembering that.’
Ace perched on the edge of the bed, watching the Blinnati girl. She had been dismissing the Doctor’s concerns, thinking he was exaggerating things, but after tonight she could well believe that you could get lynched for speaking out about the wrong programme or star.
With a soft blip the screen went black. Gatti straightened.
‘There.’
Ace looked at her. like the rest of her race Gatti was tall and lithe, a delicate hint of green tinting her skin. The face