Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias - Mark Michalowski [106]
Sooal cocked his head on one side, and Ace had to try really, really hard to stop herself from punching the smug little monster. She wished Michael were here now. ‘Go on then, Doctor. I’m intrigued to hear how such a great, deductive mind
– currently locked in a storeroom – works.’
The Doctor gripped his lapels. ‘The Alzheimer’s treatments are obviously a side-effect of your attempts to remove the memory blocks on the Tulks – and a lucrative one, too. Funding for all of this, no doubt. And the multiple processor array down in the spaceship was just a bit of insurance in case some of the Tulks died before you got the codes from them – and, I imagine, in case they proved less tractable than you’d hoped.’
‘But we know all that,’ Ace interjected with forced calmness.
‘Patience, Ace. Patience.’ He turned back to Sooal. ‘An awful lot of trouble to go to for weapons – especially weapons that you may never get a chance to use. Not when you consider that you’ve probably got, oh, about five years of life left. Maybe ten.
Am I right?’
Ace frowned, puzzled, but Sooal’s wide eyes showed that the Doctor had hit the nail on the head. Five years left?
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘Ever heard of progeria?’
Ace shook her head as Sooal hissed. ‘How much do you know?’ he asked with a sneer.
‘Not much more than anyone with good eyesight could have known, really – and a knowledge of congenital neuroendocrinological disorders, obviously. The first time I saw you I realised it. And your reaction to La Traviata gave me a clue: poor Violetta, dying of consumption. Full of self-pity, a life cut short.’ He turned to Ace, almost as an afterthought, his eyes still on Sooal. ‘Progeria, Ace, is premature ageing. Sooal here is much, much younger than he looks – and, judging by his appearance, probably won’t live to be much older. So I take it there’s something in that stasis sphere that you think will help you.’ ‘A metabolic stabilizer,’ he said softly. ‘The Tulks were working on one, hoping it would extend their lives indefinitely, when the war came to an end. Unlike the Milks, I’m not convinced of the merits of immortality: all I want is my normal lifespan. The stabilizer was designed to counter the effects of the changes they’ve engineered in my people – a sop to some of their favourite collaborators. Maybe I’m just not as trusting as I once was, but I’m not prepared to take a chance on their refusing me the stabilisation.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘As motives go, it’s a good one. It must be galling to see it all snatched away from you by the Annarene, though.’
Sooal bared his teeth – and, not for the first time, Ace was reminded of a cornered cat.
Maybe he had better hearing than his mum; maybe his years on the front line of UNIT had developed some sort of sixth sense when it came to strange happenings. Whatever, as the black, diamond shape slid through the night sky over the B&B, Michael found himself at the window, staring up at it. It was almost noiseless, just a low rumble and a gentle breeze announcing its arrival.
‘What is it?’ asked Joyce, seeing him standing there, gazing up into the sky. Gran slept soundly, oblivious to the nightmare that was unfolding around her. Clutched tightly in her hands was a silver fobwatch.
‘Some sort of plane – maybe a spaceship.’ He grinned, hardly believing that he was saying it. She came over to join him at the window, but it had passed out of sight in the direction of Graystairs. She grabbed his arm as he moved towards the door, her eyes silently pleading.
‘Come on, Mum – this is what we UNIT people do,’ he said.
‘You’re not a UNIT person anymore,’ she replied levelly, challenging him. ‘or have you changed your mind again?’
‘Maybe old habits die hard. Stay here with Gran.’ He grabbed his jacket from the back of the door, gave his mum a quick hug, and was gone.
He reckoned it was heading for Graystairs. Where else?
Pausing