Doctor Who_ The Also People - Ben Aaronovitch [86]
Outside of the little bubble of air and gravity in which he sat, the ships of the people slowly gathered around him.
The smallest of them were the two VLR Drones, a bare eight hundred metres long, all engine, brain and minimal life support. They were the first to arrive having been built to be fast and inquisitive. They described complex patterns around the Doctor with the gay abandon of ships that don't have an organic crew to complain about motion sickness. The four converted VASs arrived next, sliding through the vacuum with the same grace and fixity of purpose of sharks.
They formed up into a loose semi-circle facing him, the blind insect eyes of their weapon's pods very much pointing in his direction.
The Doctor dunked a digestive biscuit and quickly ate it before the soggy end fell off. He sipped his tea and calmly watched as the huge shapes of the GPSs converged on him, slipping into complementary firing positions above and behind the VASs.
Finally, the front end of the TSH rose up behind him like a city taking flight, coming so close to the Doctor that it seemed as if a great wall full of windows, airlocks, antennae, launching pads, docking bays and promenades leaned over his back.
The ships hung all around him, silent, absolutely still, waiting for him to make the first move.
Even the VLR drones stopped their ceaseless patterns and turned towards the Doctor. They represented such a force, he knew, that if the Rutons or the Sontarans had even suspected their existence they would have climbed into the deepest darkest hole they could find and sealed themselves in. The effect of the culture shock alone would kill millions.
The Doctor took another swallow of tea and cleared his throat.
'I just want you to know,' said the Doctor, putting his cup down, 'that there is absolutely no reason to be alarmed.'
It took the combined strength of Chris and feLixi to stop the fishing rod being dragged into the sea. Once they had both grabbed hold of the rod it dawned on Chris that if one let go the other would instantly be pulled into the water.
'It must be a monster,' shouted feLixi.
'I hope not,' said Chris, 'I was hoping for a fish.'
'Didn't the Doctor tell you what to do when the line ran out?'
'Yes, but I wasn't listening.'
A heavy tug on the line dragged them forward across the slippery stone. Chris managed to get his foot braced against the parapet just in time. He remembered the Doctor's story about Scorbiski Major and the angling fish. And then tried to put the sudden image of some deepwater monstrosity with a fishing-rod-shaped proboscis out of his mind.
Cold water hit him at knee level.
'The waves are getting bigger,' he yelled to feLixi. He had to yell because the wind was getting bigger as well. He noticed that feLixi had lost his hat. There was a skittering noise as the umbrella fell over and went for a run up the breakwater. Chris watched as it launched itself, spinning, into the air like a crude helicopter.
'There's a storm coming,' shouted feLixi, 'winds of ten metres a second with gusts up to thirty, severe precipitation likely.'
'How can you tell?'
'What?'
'How can you tell how fast the wind is?'
'God told me. That's why I came out to tell you and the Doctor.'
'You could have mentioned it sooner.'
'I forgot,' shouted feLixi. 'Shouldn't we try and reel the fish in?'
Chris grasped hold of the handle but it wouldn't budge. 'It's too tight.'
'Maybe if we pull the rod up we could get some slack.'
They heaved the rod up to a 45-degree angle, at least the base was; the thin fibreglass was bent so far that the