Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [19]
‘Mr Bryce has just been telling me some of the legends of this planet, it’s really quite intriguing.’
Ace stared at the red-faced man in front of her. ‘Are you an expert, Mr Bryce?’
‘Oh yes, my dear. I have quite a reputation, you know. And please, call me Edwin.’
They continued to talk about the planet’s history, the Doctor trying to prise more information out of Bryce, the writer becoming more evasive and more drunk. Ace began to tire of the conversation.
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Suddenly there was a commotion at the bar. Ace turned to see two of the spider robots grappling with a bare-chested Dreekan man. He was waving his arms wildly and had daubed the walls with a garish red swirl.
‘Extraordinary.’ The Doctor peered at the swirl with interest.
‘Oh, a little local bother, Doctor. Nothing to worry about.’ Bryce waved his hands dismissively. ‘The local religious zealots flex their muscles now and again. Keeps the constabulary on their toes.’
‘There is a local religion?’ The Doctor leant forward inquisitively.
Ace nudged him. ‘We were going to eat, remember?’ she whispered.
The Doctor pulled out his pocket watch and stared at it in shock. ‘I had no idea it had got so late.’ He jumped to his feet and shook Bryce vigorously by the hand. ‘Well, fascinating as this has been, Mr Bryce, I’m afraid that we have a table waiting, so if you will excuse us...’
Bryce’s face fell. ‘Oh, what a shame. I was going to see if I could tempt you to a game of chess... He pulled a small chess set from under the table and Ace watched the Doctor’s face light up. She quickly caught him by the sleeve and flashed Bryce a dazzling smile.
‘Another time perhaps. Thank you for a fascinating evening.’
Hanging on to the Doctor’s arm, she dragged him into the restaurant.
‘Where did you find the lush, Professor?’
The Doctor stared back into the bar. ‘He found me, actually.’
The head waiter, a rotund Frenchman, bustled over and ushered them to their table, passing the Doctor the wine list while holding the chair for Ace. The Doctor had booked them a table on the terrace. The clink of glasses and the murmur of quiet conversation rose from a dozen or so tables.
Ace stared at the sunset. One of the suns had vanished completely, the other was a pale orange orb on the horizon. The sky was a patchwork of colour, the rings like dull gold.
Ace was suddenly aware of the Doctor looking at her. The light was reflected in his eyes making them sparkle and dance. He nodded at her dress.
‘If this is how you’re going to dress from now on, then I’m going to have to find a better calibre of villain for us to fight.’
Ace blushed. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’ She ran her hand over the shoulder of his jacket. ‘I thought you only wore brown.’
The Doctor looked hurt. ‘I’ll have you know that back on Gallifrey I was renowned for my sartorial elegance!’
Ace held his gaze for a moment, then the two of them dissolved into giggles.
A waiter scurried over and looked at them expectantly. Ace wiped 35
the tears from her eyes and picked up her menu. ‘I think we’d better order, don’t you?’
The meal was one of the best Ace had ever tasted. Not surprisingly Coralee’s oceans provided a wealth of seafood and she and the Doctor tried seaweeds and shellfish, exotic undersea salads and sweet corals, washed down with a delicate sea-green wine. As a small robot cleaned away the last of their plates Ace pulled her chair over to the Doctor’s side and the two of them stared out over the rolling ocean.
Sunset had given way to a velvet night, the moons of Coralee distant and bright, the rings – silver-blue now – dominating the sky.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their wine and watching the stars, then the Doctor said, ‘You don’t regret it, do you?’
Ace looked at him, puzzled. ‘Regret it?’
‘Coming with me. Leaving Iceworld. Heading for Perivale by the scenic route.’
Ace laughed. ‘Are you kidding! What on earth made you think that, Professor?’
The Doctor didn’t look up. ‘Because sometimes I forget how dangerous my