Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [39]
Never mind. She had to find the Doctor. The locker contained some horrid, rough sandal-type slippers. A bit small for her. They’d do.
Checking again to make sure no one had seen her, Martha tightened the belt on the dressing gown and headed out into the night. The twilight was falling, but the air was pleasantly cool after the afternoon shower, and everything smelled of summer and holidays abroad.
Martha slipped out of the hospital and found herself in the middle of some sort of town square, paved with huge, flat sheets of what looked like shiny concrete. It was bordered by low, wooden buildings, and she remembered the view she’d had from the hospital earlier in the day. With dim sodium lights flickering on between the buildings, it confirmed her impression of a holiday camp.
There were few people about, and most of the windows were dark.
A couple strolled out from between two buildings, arm in arm, whispering into each other’s shoulders, and Martha shrunk back into the shadow of the hospital. She had no idea where to go, where the Doctor was – where anyone was. She should have stayed in bed, let Dr Hashmi find the Doctor and bring him to her, This was just stupid.
Think it through, she told herself. Where would he be? It would have to be something important to keep him away from her bedside, wouldn’t it?
Martha let her gaze drift around the square. There was nothing to indicate what the buildings were. For all she knew, they were all offices, empty and deserted at this time of the day.
Something moved in the darkness at the base of one of the buildings on the other side of the square: small, lithe shapes, slipping through the shadows like fish through water. A chill trickled down her spine as she recognised something familiar in their movements. Otters, she thought.
As she watched, and her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she could see that there were dozens of them, silently flitting between the buildings. And at least one of those buildings still had lights on. If that was where the Doctor was, she had to warn him.
Pallister allowed a grin to creep across his face.
His earlier annoyance that the Doctor, despite his promise, had not been to see him was almost forgotten in his joy at how absurdly easy the Council had been to manipulate. It was as if they’d left all their critical faculties, all their judgement, back on Earth.
The flood, whilst obviously disastrous for the settlement, hadn’t been without its upside: eight members of the Council had been lost that night, and the replacement members had been, at the very least, reluctant. So reluctant, so scared of exercising any power, that they’d been almost pathetically grateful to Pallister for taking charge.
Sunday needed firm government, Pallister had reminded himself, every day since the catastrophe. It needed someone capable of making harsh decisions, someone not scared of being unpopular. And if there was one thing that Pallister had never been scared of, it had been that. And, fortunately, he’d had an ally in that, someone who’d seen the strength of leadership he could provide. He wondered, briefly, where Col was and why he hadn’t heard from him about his trip to the ship. It must have gone OK, otherwise Col would have been back to tell him. Never mind – there were more important things to sort out now.
He’d almost had to laugh at the panic and confusion in their eyes –
especially in the eyes of that stupid woman Marj Haddon – when he’d told them that an adjudicator had been sent from Earth.
‘Why?’ she’d bleated, going even paler than she normally was. ‘The flood?’
Pallister just shrugged, trying to give the subtle