Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [51]
‘Rose!’
The Doctor’s voice was like a gunshot in the dark. He stood in the glare of the blue light from his sonic screwdriver. Ali’s face peered out from behind his legs.
The little girl was
drenched with filthy water, but the relief on her face mirrored that on Rose’s own.
The Doctor splashed forward and gave her an enormous hug.
‘Hello, you! I was just coming to get you!’
She hugged him back gratefully.
‘Talk about leaving it until just after the nick of time.’
‘Sorry. Got a bit caught up.’
Ali hurried over to them and Rose tousled her hair. ‘I thought I told you to get out of here.’
‘My torch packed up.’
‘She thought you were a monster.’ The Doctor grinned. ‘Personally, I think that’s a bit harsh. . . ’
‘Hey!’ Rose frowned at him.
The Doctor winked at Ali, then caught Rose by the arm, leading her a little way down the tunnel.
‘I’ve been worried about you. We had some. . . interesting visitors out on Black Island. Some old friends conjured out of the ether. Slith122 een, Daleks, that sort of thing. . . ’ All flippancy had gone from his voice now. ‘Do I gather that Mr Nathaniel Morton has been a less than perfect host?’
Rose nodded, and proceeded to tell him everything that had happened since she had made it into the cellar, grateful for the chance to finally unburden herself to someone who might understand what was going on.
The Doctor listened, his face hard and his jaw tightening as Rose described the mind-scan that Morton and the others had subjected her to. When she finally reached the thing in the library, she lowered her voice so as not to alarm Ali. The little girl had already been through enough; she didn’t need to know that the worst monster was still to come.
The Doctor stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Cynrog. That’s not good.’
‘You’ve met them?’
‘Not met them, but know them by reputation. Not a very nice reputation either.’
‘And they’ve got a thing about frightening children, have they?’
‘No, that’s the bit that’s puzzling. The equipment is nothing that the Cynrog aren’t capable of. But they’re behaving oddly. All this sneaking about, hiding under masks. . . not like them at all.’
‘So how should they be?’
‘Oh, I dunno. Stamping about and giving orders. Blowing things up. That sort of thing. . . They’re warriors, subjugating the galaxy in the name of their great all-powerful god.’ He frowned, looking almost disappointed.
‘Well, let’s just count ourselves lucky that they’re not stamping around, blowing things up, shall we?’ Rose said. ‘What are we gonna do about stopping them?’
‘First things first.’ The Doctor pulled a crumpled photograph from his pocket. ‘Look familiar?’
Rose took it, squinting at it in the dim light. It was the photograph of a small boy.
‘Oh, my God! It’s the boy I saw in my dream.’
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‘I’ve been seeing a lot of him tonight. It seems that it’s not just monsters being brought to life.’
‘Where did you get this?’
‘Bronwyn Ceredig. Now, I need you to find out who this is. . . I think his name is Jimmy and I think he was her son. Find out what happened to him, Rose. Find out what Bronwyn knows.’
‘You think she’s something to do with this?’
‘That’s what I need you to find out! What I do know is that there’s a thumping great alien transmitter in the lamp room of the lighthouse that needs sorting out.’ The Doctor smiled that mischievous smile of his. ‘And that’s where young Ali here comes in.’
Peyne stared in frustration at the inert equipment that littered the cellar. All around it, Cynrog technicians scurried to and fro, pushing past her without catching her gaze. Psychic reception had fallen practically to zero.
Hadron hurried over to her.
‘Well?’ Peyne snapped.
‘The equipment is functioning perfectly, Priest Commander. And the generators are at full power. If we are not receiving a signal, then it can only mean that. . . ’
‘That the children are not asleep.