Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [13]
‘And why, considering all you’ve been through over the past couple of months, would you be spending valuable time studying these. . .
these – have you got a name for them?’
‘We just call them otters,’ said Ty.
‘Just “otters”? What’s happened to human creativity, imagination?’
He shook his head, but Candy could see the smile twinkling in his eyes. ‘Love looking for the familiar in the unfamiliar, you lot. Come on!’ he spread his arms wide. ‘You’re on a brand new world, brave new horizons, boldly going where no one’s ever gone before, blah, blah. You should be making up exciting new names for things.’ He looked back at the cages. ‘Call ’em “jubjubs”,’ he suggested. ‘Or “spingles”. Always wanted to find something called a spingle.’ He paused.
‘Or am I getting confused with Spangles?’
‘Let’s just leave them as otters for the time being, shall we?’ Col suggested a little icily.
‘Fair enough,’ agreed the Doctor brightly. ‘Never one to interfere, me. So how come you have time to be studying otters? Shouldn’t you be out building fences or digging wells or something rough and sweaty and butch?’
‘I’m a xenozoologist, Doctor. I’m nearly 60 and, to be quite honest, there’s not much else that I’m good at. Not unless the other settlers suddenly develop the need for an Earth Mother – or a Sunday Mother.
And anyway, we’re the advance guard, so to speak. We’re here to set up the colony, investigate the local wildlife. Make sure it’s all hunky dory for when the rest of the colonists arrive – if they bother coming now. Col,’ she said firmly, turning away from the Doctor. ‘Either go and get Pallister or sit down – just stop fannying around.’
Candy let out a little laugh. They were like an old married couple.
Col shook his head. ‘Pallister’ll go ape when he finds out –’
‘When he finds out what?’
Everyone turned to the door. Standing there, in his grubby black suit, flanked by two other colonists – two armed colonists – was Pallister. Silently, they drew their guns and aimed them at the Doctor.
There was complete silence. The Doctor stared from one gun to the other and then fixed Pallister with a firm gaze.
‘I take it that you’re Bannister.’
‘Pallister,’ corrected Pallister coldly.
‘Bannister, Pallister. . . ’ said the Doctor airily.
‘What are you doing on Sunday?’ asked Pallister.
‘Well,’ said the Doctor, sucking in a breath. ‘I thought I might wash the car, then have lunch down the pub – and maybe fall asleep watching the footie. Unless, of course, you’re asking me on a date. In which case, I should point out that –’
‘What are you doing on our planet?’
‘Oh!’ said the Doctor, wide-eyed. ‘It’s your planet is it? Sorry – I must have missed the sign on my way in.’
He suddenly turned his back on the three men in the doorway.
‘Anyway,’ he said blithely. ‘What was I saying. . . ? Oh yes. These otters of yours. . . ’
There were two heavy clunks from behind him as Pallister’s men readied their guns. The Doctor took a deep breath and turned back to them. ‘Good thinking, Rossiter. When faced with a puzzle, shoot it! When something comes along you don’t understand, shoot it! When someone you’ve never met before says hello, shoot him! Nice policy.’
Candy swallowed nervously – the Doctor clearly didn’t know Pallister. He might have been an officious nobody, but he was the officious nobody in charge of the Council, and he had a short fuse and a nasty temper when provoked. No one said anything.
‘Right!’ exclaimed Ty suddenly, pushing the Doctor aside and standing four-square in front of Pallister and his goons. ‘This has gone on quite long enough!’ She looked Pallister up and down as if he’d been caught smoking around the back of the schoolhouse. ‘What is going on here, Pallister?’ She glanced disdainfully at the two men, their guns raised. ‘And put those down before someone gets hurt.
You might be Chief Councillor, but since when was Sunday a military state? You can’t just go stomping around with your little toy soldiers, waving guns at people. I mean,’ she glanced back at the Doctor. ‘Just look at him.