Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin [27]
59
‘And. . . do you think that’s right?’
‘I can’t afford to dwell on my past.’
‘You’re avoiding something nasty. Something you know you shouldn’t have done.’
The Doctor looked her right in the eye. ‘Takes one to know one, Patricia.’
Trix turned away.
‘Do you think Fitz is all right?’ the Doctor asked.
Trix looked at him and considered the question for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’
she admitted.
The Doctor nodded. He scooped up the plastic ball and slipped it into his coat pocket. ‘He’s upset with me, but not with you. See what you can do to cheer him up.’
‘So how are we going to find this lorry?’
‘Well,’ the Doctor said a little sheepishly, ‘I thought we might call the police.’
They’d unloaded the police box, and then Rachel had returned the lorry to the plant-hire yard. There had been a token argument about small scratches and repayment of the deposit, but she’d got her money. Then she’d caught the bus back to Marnal’s house.
Marnal had spent the time in one of the upstairs rooms, looking for a key.
He’d found it just a minute before she returned. Now, with Rachel at his side, he was back in the garage ready to open the police box.
‘It looks like an ordinary key,’ she told him.
‘The Doctor and I look like ordinary human beings,’ he replied.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask why a time machine looks like a police box. I mean, what is a police box anyway?’
‘We Time Lords are a cautious people, as a rule. This ship is camouflaged as an Earth object so that it doesn’t draw attention to itself.’
‘It’s nine feet tall and bright blue, with a lamp on top of it.’ Without replying, Marnal slotted the key into the lock and twisted it. The thin door creaked open.
And, as never before, when Rachel stepped through the door it was like stepping into another world.
Inside the police box, which was just a few feet wide, was a space only a little smaller than Marnal’s whole house.
Walls stretched out and away, then swept back round to mark out a hexagonal space. They were covered in shelves, instruments and alcoves, and were seemingly held up by iron pylons and what looked like stone buttresses. The ceiling arched up like a vault. The floor was covered with various rugs and carpets, and a few chairs and small tables were scattered around. Every surface was covered in piles of books, candlesticks, Tiffany lamps and other odds 60
and ends. The overall effect was as if a Victorian steamship had crashed into a Gothic cathedral, and someone had opened an antiques shop there.
It wasn’t that different from the clutter in Marnal’s house. Presumably, immortals ended up with a lot of junk.
In the centre of the room, on a small dais, sat a control unit made from mahogany and wrought iron. A large column shot up from the centre of this, disappearing into the stonework of the ceiling.
There was a faint hum, coming from all around.
It was like that holiday in Italy, when she’d wandered into a small church.
From the outside, it had been a fairly plain wall with a big wooden door.
Inside, it was almost absurdly large and ornate. Mysteries hiding in niches and unexplored corners. Echoing footsteps and diffuse, weak lighting.
She felt nervous about touching anything here, and didn’t feel that she understood it at all.
Marnal was perfectly at home. He strode up to the control console and circled around it. Rachel joined him, careful to stay out his way.
‘Is it what you expected?’
Marnal nodded. ‘He’s redecorated, but everything I need seems to be here.’
‘Um. . . Now what?’
Marnal was studying the instruments. He scowled, flicked a switch, then tried flicking it again. He pulled a couple of levers, checking a readout panel after each adjustment.
‘Half the systems aren’t working,’ he said. ‘Most of the other half don’t seem to be turned on.’
He twisted a dial rather violently. Deep, deep beneath them the pitch of the hum changed slightly and the lights brightened a little.
‘I’m going to have to recalibrate a lot of this before I do much more. That’s not difficult, but it might take a day or two. It isn’t safe to