Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [50]
most people assumed that one of Coralee’s rare but tempestuous storms was blowing in – but no panic. Holidaymakers cursed their bad luck, but Ace had heard nobody coming even close to the truth. She sighed.
They’d find out soon enough.
She tried to put it out of her mind. She’d eaten ferociously, finishing her meal in minutes, much to Rajiid’s amusement.
‘You’re a strange girl, Ace,’ Rajiid said. ‘You say you’re from Earth.’
Ace nodded, swallowing the last mouthfuls. ‘Perivale.’
Rajiid shook his head. ‘Never heard of it,’ he said.
‘It’s in London,’ said Ace.
Rajiid laughed. ‘Don’t try it on,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ said Ace.
‘Oh, so you come from a city that hasn’t existed for five hundred years. OK...’ the young sub pilot grinned, ‘... you want to be a woman of mystery, that’s fine. So tell me about the Doctor. What’s he – your boyfriend?’
Ace laughed. ‘He’s... just the Doctor,’ she said.
‘OK, no more questions,’ Rajiid smiled.
‘What about you?’ asked Ace.
Rajiid shrugged. ‘Not much to know. I’m an underwater tour-bus diver. Or I was until yesterday.’
‘What about this medical student stuff?’
‘Yeah, I did that for a bit,’ said Rajiid.
‘Why d’you give it up?’
Rajiid shrugged. ‘Too much pain, too much suffering. Too much death. It was depressing.’
‘So you came here.’
96
‘Rajiid smiled grimly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘According to the brochures, there was no pain here. No death.’
He stared out at the promenade. The police still patrolled the beaches; people still strolled up and down in the sun, rolled in and out of the bars, gambled and drank and laughed.
‘Look at them,’ Rajiid said. ‘They say everyone who comes here is running away from something. “Escape to Coralee” the posters say.
We’re all in for a shock.’
A wind was starting to blow up.
‘It looks like there’s going to be a storm, said Rajiid. ‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’
‘We seem to be stopping, Sarge,’ Corporal Bell said.
‘Where are we?’ Frank Sands asked.
‘About eight miles out from the Western Rim. There’s nothing out here, Sarge.’
‘Are you getting anything, Norris?’
‘Nothing, Sarge. Archie’s right – there are just tiddlers and rocks down here.’
‘Go to visual,’ said Sands. ‘Constable Clark, are you getting through to control yet?’
‘No, sir,’ Annie Clark replied. ‘It’s almost as if the channels are being jammed.’
‘Keep trying,’ said Sands.
‘We’ve stopped, Sarge,’ Bell said.
The engines died. The sudden quiet in the cramped command chamber of police sub D-19, a mile below the surface of the ocean, was ominous. Sands could tell they all sensed it.
He turned his attention to the murky blue water-world that rippled across the sub’s view-screen. Norris was right: just a broad bed of rocky undulations – an undersea plateau. Nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Magnify the image,’ he said.
The rocks leapt forward on the screen.
‘What are those?’ Sands asked. Coral?’
The rocks were densely, darkly clustered with black, ovoid shapes, smooth and shiny, about the size of a man Sands guessed.
‘It’s not like any coral I’ve ever seen,’ said Norris.
‘What’s black and egg shaped...?’ Sands mused.
‘Is this a joke?’ Norris asked.
‘What?’
‘Nothing, Sarge,’ Norris said quickly ‘The only thing I can think of is eggs. Big, black eggs.’
97
‘Eggs...’ said Sands, puzzled.
‘Sarge...’ Annie Clark’s voice came through the bulkhead door, breathy and nervous. ‘I... I think our communications channels are being blocked’
‘What!?’ Sands strode through the door, his mind racing.
‘And there’s something else. I’ve traced the sub control signal – and it’s not coming from Central. It’s not the authorised signal – the code’s completely different.’
‘Do you know what you’re saying, Constable?’ Sands asked sternly
‘Someone else has control of the sub.’ She whispered the words.
‘Sergeant Sands...’ Bill Hanlon’s voice crackled through the intercom from the engine room. He sounded anxious. ‘We’ve got