Doctor Who_ The Devil Goblins From Neptune - Keith Topping [28]
'I'm surprised to see you so readily agreeing to something the Brigadier suggests'
'I'm never too proud to ask for help, Liz, you know that'
Liz laughed. 'Of course, Doctor.'
'How are the arrangements for the press luncheon going?' 'Fine. Everything's under control. I'm hoping you'll meet Professor Trainor at the party later.'
'I'm looking forward to it.'
A young man poked his head into the room. 'Good afternoon,' he said brightly. 'I'm Mark Wilson. Can I get anyone a coffee?' Both the Doctor and Yates shook their heads.
Wilson collapsed into a huge beanbag in the corner of the room. 'I saw your car outside. Can't say I've ever seen anything like it before'
'I'll take that as a compliment,' said the Doctor.
'Please do.'
'And I'm told that we have you to thank for arranging this party?'
Wilson nodded. 'An informal prelude to next week's press conference. And I've arranged rooms for you and the captain tonight'
'That's very kind,' said the Doctor. 'Liz has told me that you work for Professor Trainor. May I ask, in what capacity?'
'The professor was interested in my doctoral thesis on the use of cobalt-60 in radiotherapy,' said the man proudly.
'Of course, British Rocket Group use my expertise in an altogether different way. Calibrating instruments, minor power sources, that sort of thing. Ultimately, though, we're expected to be Jacks of all trades at BRG!
'I read a paper of yours on sustainable power supplies,'
said the Doctor.
'Really?' exclaimed Wilson, genuinely surprised. 'That magazine has a very small readership; I didn't think -'
'An excellent piece of work. Personally speaking, though, I'd have liked some discussion of the social impact of such energy sources.'
'Not really my field,' said Wilson defensively.
The Doctor smiled, but his eyes suddenly seemed cold and distant. 'None of us should ever forget the human context that surrounds what we do in the name of science,' he observed.
The room was full to overflowing with people, and Liz found the noise and bustle curiously restful after the introspection of the last few days. She sipped from her glass of Rocamar red wine. 'I see you have one of those newfangled eight-track cassette machines, she said.
'Your point being?' asked Mark suspiciously, but with a hint of mocking humour.
'It's just that a few weeks ago I was talking to a friend of mine who works for Philips' R and D,' replied Liz brightly. 'And he was telling me that it's a technological blind alley. The music companies don't want the format to succeed because their raison d'être is records'
Mark scowled openly, his hackles rising at the suggestion that, once again, Liz was making fun of his inability to know which new trend to follow. It was exactly the same as that time he'd told her confidently that there was no future in colour television because the technology was too expensive.
'Look,' he said in a voice that was higher-pitched that normal,
'the sound quality is infinitely superior to a long-playing record. And the system's easier to work than a Dansette. Just listen to it ...'
The sound of the Alan Hawkshaw Orchestra rippled gently across the room from a pair of Quad speakers.
'Hmmm,' said Liz, putting down her glass and then settling into one of the armchairs. 'I remain to be convinced.'
'I thought quadraphonic sound was going to be the next big thing,' noted Gavin Hyde, one of Mark's housemates, a first-year philosophy student. He sat down on the floor next to Liz, cradling a brown-ale bottle in one hand and fingering his CND medallion as he tried, very obviously, to look anywhere but at Liz's shapely legs.
'Rubbish,' said Fay, another of the house's occupants.
agree with Mark,' she continued, with a look at Liz that said I hate you and I want you to die. 'What with the current vinyl shortage, LPs and those horrible little forty-five things are going to be dead in a couple of years. There's an