Doctor Who_ The King of Terror - Keith Topping [99]
They cannot be summed up in stereotypical bursts of blind prejudice Tegan’s voice repeated. Except, maybe, Captain Geoff Paynter who’s a complete and total dickhead!
‘You’re a complete and total dickhead,’ she berated him, proving to herself at least that she was somebody who said what she thought.
Paynter hobbled off the bed and moved across to Tegan, draining the last of his tea. ‘What’s brought this on?’ he asked. ‘You were all sugar and spice back in the desert.’
‘I wasn’t thinking straight,’ Tegan concluded. ‘Like you said, temporary insanity brought on by the pressure of the situation. I’m better now.’
‘Looks like it,’ Paynter noted with an up-and-down bit of mental undressing that Tegan found murderously offensive.
‘Do you do it deliberately?’ she asked, seemingly desperate to understand.
Paynter was genuinely unsure about what he was being asked. ‘Do I do what deliberately?’
‘Be an offensive sexist windbag. A dinosaur from the age when men were men and women were glad of it.’
‘What did I say?’ Paynter asked with a mixture of amusement and confusion.
‘You’re bloody paranoid, darlin’.’
Tegan returned to stamping her foot, just as she had back at the garage. ‘I am not your darling, or anything like it.’
‘Which, personally, I’m rather glad about,’ Paynter said caustically. ‘I’d hate to take you down the pub to show off to me mates, you’d probably end up 189
knifing most of them.’
‘I still hate you,’ said Tegan without the tears this time. Instead, there was a cold, hard certainty in her voice. Almost rehearsed.
‘ Still mutual,’ replied Paynter.
Tegan slapped his face. Again. Paynter responded in kind, more gently this time, but with the reproach of someone who was getting sick of the game.
When she raised her hand to return his blow, he again caught her arm in midair and twisted it, pulling her closer to him.
They stared at each other.
‘This is stupid,’ Paynter said. ‘It’s a crass romantic comedy subplot that’s impressing precisely no one.’
‘Agreed,’ said Tegan, her lips touching his. ‘It’s an insult to our intelligence!’
‘And intelligence should be our first weapon, shouldn’t it?’
‘You never know,’ replied Tegan. ‘It might get better!’
The police car arrived at the entrance to the UNIT headquarters.
‘You sure this is the right place?’ Dan asked Turlough. ‘It’s a bit of a rough neighbourhood.’
‘Yeah, it’s like one of those secret-base-type things.’ said Turlough, conspiratorially. ‘So you guys will have to forget you were ever here, or the UN will be forced to kill you!’
Dan and Mike laughed and opened the car door for their passenger as Mel Tyrone appeared at the backstairs to take Turlough out of police custody.
‘Hey Vislor,’ said Mike, quickly. ‘Look after yourself, man.’
Turlough threw his arms around the two bear-like LA police officers and hugged them both to the point of embarrassment. When he finally released them, he thrust his fist towards Dan in a gesture he’d learned from the big man in hospital.
‘Respect,’ he said, as their knuckles touched.
‘Is due,’ responded Dan, with a smile. ‘You stay out of trouble, y’hear?’
The officers returned to their car as Turlough waved to them.
‘New friends?’ asked Tyrone.
Turlough looked unsure how best to answer him. ‘I was looking for a bit of kindness,’ he said. ‘I’m sure there’s some syndrome that it could be classified under.’ He put his arm around Mel Tyrone’s shoulder as if he were a long-lost friend. ‘The hospital psychiatrist told me that I have to find my trust in humanity again. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t humanity that I was worried about.’
As they took the elevator to the fourth floor, Turlough continued to talk at a hundred miles an hour about his treatment and about how good he felt.
About himself. About life in general.
190
‘I’m glad,’ Mel told him as the doors opened and they walked along the corridor towards the mess room. ‘You’ll need to have a good grip on your sensibilities over the next few days, a lot of things have happened whilst you