Doctor Who_ The Last Dodo - Jacqueline Rayner [17]
Or it had been. For suddenly there was one planet… Had it happened millions of years ago, billions, last week? Even now, seeing the warning light again, she couldn’t pin it down. All she knew was that suddenly, without warning, a planet had been destroyed. Gone forever. The planet had never known an extinction before that, somehow – seemingly magically – even the most fragile of insect species had survived as long as its home. And then – all gone.
All except one. One solitary specimen of one solitary species of all that had existed on that one planet.
And then the one had gone, and with it Eve’s consolation. Free from emotion? No, it… hurt.
And something was stirring within her now, something she’d never experienced before. Could it be… desperation? Need? Desire? Or just a certain knowledge that if she did not pursue this, she would remain forever unfulfilled? Whatever it was it was strong, so strong.
Her head swimming with unfamiliar thoughts, she leaned back in her chair and pondered her next move.
I’m getting used to the zappy stuff now. The way I’m dealing with it is this: pretending I’ve gone on a long train journey, only without the signal failures, the person next to you who takes up half your seat with their bags and tries to read your newspaper over your shoulder, the £17 per biscuit buffet, the lack of air conditioning and, of course, the train journey. That way it seems like a really positive experience, instead of one where you feel sick and dizzy and get freaked out that half your atoms haven’t made it, and those that have turned up are in the wrong places. I mean, what if something goes a bit skewy and my ear gets reassembled out of my nose or something? (And, believe me, that’s not the worst example I can think of but you’ll have to use your imagination. No, on second thoughts, please don’t use your imagination. Just forget all about it. Please.)
Anyway, so we zap away – destination who knows where, but that sort of thing doesn’t bother the Doctor – on the trail of who knows what (but he doesn’t let that stop him, either).
And where we end up – well, total contrast to the warehouse place. Walls papered in velvet (um, can something be ‘papered’ in non‐paper?), carpets you have to wade through, chandeliers and huge vases and gold bits on everything. And right there with her back to us, a kid in a maid’s uniform dusting the knick‐knacks. The Doctor coughed and she turned round, saw us and screamed. Two seconds later we were surrounded by what appeared to be armed butlers. Didn’t faze the Doctor, of course. There we are, about to be thrown out on our ears – possibly with police arrest to follow and, who knows, maybe a bit of violence on the side – but he just calmly states that we have an appointment with the owner of the house. ‘I think not,’ says this one posh‐suited butler guy, but the Doctor just replies, ‘Go on, go and tell ’em we’re here. And say “quagga”.’ He said it like it was a code, and even though I knew how serious the situation was it was hard not to laugh, cos it sounds such a funny word, like ‘wibble’ or ‘bibble’. But the guy obediently vanished, and I can only assume he did what the Doctor asked because a couple of minutes later this woman appears in the doorway, and she’s so in control and obviously stinking rich she has to be the person we’re looking for.
Besides, we can see right away that she’s the one who bought the quagga. And suddenly I feel a bit sick.
‘Ooh, nice coat,’ said the Doctor, plonking himself down on a spindly chair that creaked under his weight.
It wasn’t really a nice coat at all.