Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin [94]
The Doctor tried to get a better sense of the place. Far, far away there was sound, like a rushing river. There would have to be water here somewhere, but this could equally well be traffic or. . .
Where exactly was he? The last time he’d checked the instruments the TARDIS had been pretty close to Earth, certainly within the moon’s orbit. The gravity here felt natural, and it was substantial. He guessed it was about a sixth of Earth’s. About the same as the moon’s, but this wasn’t the moon.
At some point, while trying to evade the hyperspace corridors, he must have fallen into a space warp. Something had gone very wrong.
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He turned on his heel, to head back to the TARDIS and take some more readings.
A monster blocked his way.
The Doctor looked it up and down. ‘So you’re a Vore? I’ve heard the expression “time flies”, I’ve never actually met one before. Hello.’
Others were crowding around him. The group started moving and, as though he was caught in a stream, the Doctor had little choice but to go with the flow. Within moments he was jostled against Marnal and Rachel, then the three of them were pushed in the same direction, leading out of the chamber.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ the Doctor said. ‘So, you had a TARDIS of your own tucked away?’
‘My TARDIS is here. . . now.’
A couple of the insects jostled them apart.
‘Friends of yours?’ the Doctor asked.
‘We’ve reached an arrangement.’
The Doctor grinned knowingly. ‘One where they give you the TARDIS if you give them me? Are you sure you checked the small print?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well I can’t help noticing that the TARDIS is back that way, and we’re all being marched off in the other direction.’
‘He talked to them, Doctor,’ Rachel said.
‘Did he, now?’ the Doctor replied knowingly.
‘We reached terms.’
‘Had a chat?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You are aware that most insects are deaf, aren’t you, Marnal? BOO!’
Rachel jumped, but not one of the Vore so much as turned its head.
‘A lucky guess,’ Marnal said, subdued.
‘No. I just noticed that the Vore aren’t making sounds, but they’re clearly communicating. I imagine they’re doing it with gestures and. . . ’ The Doctor sniffed the air thoughtfully. ‘Yes, chemical signals. Interesting.’
Rachel felt a little foolish about all the shouting she’d been doing. She turned on Marnal. ‘You said they understood what you were saying.
‘We’re still here, aren’t we?’ Marnal reminded her.
The Doctor gave a wicked smile. ‘Oh, we’re here all right.’
Whoever had barricaded the house wasn’t very good at it. Trix had found a small ground-floor window they’d missed, and easily prised it open. Wriggling inside, she found herself in a little downstairs loo. She couldn’t hear anyone else in the house, so she made her way round to the nearest door, cleared the 194
fridge that was blocking it out of the way and let Mrs Winfield in. The house was very cold.
‘Do you know your way around?’ Trix asked.
‘I’ve never been round here before, but all the houses on the street are the same. You know what I mean: unless they’ve had a conservatory or knocked rooms through.’
Trix could already see this by comparing Mrs Winfield’s kitchen with the one she was in now. Next door it was a lot more modern, and light and airy. The kitchen here, apart from the fridge, probably hadn’t changed all that much since the Fifties. The cooker looked as though it had been as lovingly maintained as a vintage car; the cupboards had been kept clean, but were stained and faded with use and age.
There was also the distinct smell of old people – not the more unpleasant stuff, just the smell of violets and foot powder, dust and polish. For her part, Trix still smelled of cremated monster.
Trix’s working assumption was that there was no one home – human or alien – but she stayed on the alert. She edged into the large downstairs library, half-expecting an ambush. She had the urge to take someone on. The monsters, the owner of the house, anyone really. She wanted to smash some heads.