Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [60]
***
Sam remembered her journey to Azoth's lair only in snatches. She came to first in a stuffy car, her arm killing her. She thought she must've fallen off the back seat because she was down in the footwells. She caught a glimpse of Azoth, sitting in the passenger seat, silent. Then a bloodied arm fell across her face. From the stained white sleeve she guessed it had to be Austen. She didn't want to look up and see what else was on the back seat, so she shut her eyes.
The next thing she remembered she was being carried through somewhere dark, tunnels or something. Her arm still felt as if it were on fire. She was reminded of being blasted on Janus Prime. Same bloody shoulder... She'd thought about saying something as whoever was carrying her swung her through the chill caverns, but wanted it to be something clever. She must have passed out again before anything came to mind. Typical.
Now she was on a couch in a well-lit room, staring up at the ceiling. She was surprised there was no strip lighting there, as it was that kind of brightness. Did they have strip lights in 1963? Then she glanced around and realised this place was a teeny bit more anachronistic than her rape alarm. Shouldn't be allowed.
The room was clustered with crystals, glowing feverishly - prettier than strip lights, so that was something. Pale-grey banks of equipment lined the walls, looking hi-tech through their minimalism, small lights would occasionally light to suggest the machinery was working, and a hum of power not dissimilar to the TARDIS's own could be heard.
She tried to sit up, then realised she was being restrained. Force clamps or something, she reckoned, for there was nothing obvious holding her body in place.
Ahead of her was a large workbench lined with more of the grey machines and units. Vaguely, she became aware of the smell of rotten eggs, and wondered if it was her. She ought to be pretty frightened, after all.
Her arm had stopped hurting and she realised she was probably drugged.
She felt a flash of irritation: her body was supposed to be a temple, that was what she'd always told herself, and yet it seemed to end up ransacked so often...
Azoth's mate appeared in view, a skinny man with a thin face and a long, straight nose. He had a beard and straggly hair, and was smiling.
It took a while for Sam's mouth to start working. Her throat felt terribly dry.
'Who are you?' she managed to ask.
'I am Neville Fitzwilliam Tarr.'
'Very grand. Where are we?'
'In our secret underground base,' said Tarr. Sam doubted that was original, even in 1963.
'What do you want? Why have you brought me here?'
'Because we're going to do things to you. 'Tarr said.
***
The Doctor had organised a search of the house to round up everyone and to get them all together in the sitting room. Roley had found Fitz flat on his back in Dreamland - with quite a tale to tell - while the Doctor had found Cynthia in shock, curled up in her wardrobe. Sam was nowhere to be seen, and the Doctor had to concur with Roley that she'd been snatched along with Peter Taylor and Austen's body.
'At least we've got rid of one of our problems,' said Maria, pouring sherry into a glass for Cynthia.
'I'm sorry?' asked the Doctor, distantly.
'That corpse. Well, it's one less thing to worry about, isn't it?'
The Doctor angrily opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to decide there was little point.
Roley looked at Lucy, Watson and Russell, all sitting on a couch together, saying nothing. It had been a few minutes now since they had awoken to the news that Taylor had been taken away. None of them seemed particularly surprised, but Watson in particular was disappointed; strange, thought Roley, the two of them had never particularly hit it off. Taylor hadn't hit it off with anyone.
Russell was looking nervously around, particularly at Watson, as if afraid he was about to be told off or beaten. He was a sensitive lad, and had taken some time to emerge from the sleep Roley had induced. He had no idea how he'd put them under