Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [4]
Martha was sure she heard the Doctor shout something. Just seconds after there was a very slight lurch beneath her feet. But it might just have been the TARDIS settling down. Sometimes it did that after it landed, like her granddad, shifting himself in his armchair, getting comfy for Strictly Come Dancing.
But when she reached the console room, there was no sign of the Doctor. Martha – wincing slightly as the straps of the sandals cut into her feet – bent down to peer through the floor grille, wondering if the Doctor was doing some more repairs. But there was no sign of him.
‘Doctor?’ Martha called, straightening up. No answer. Then she noticed the door: it was ajar. The reason she hadn’t noticed it before was that, as far as she could see, it was dark outside. And that couldn’t be right, could it? Not if they were going to breakfast. Not unless he’d landed her in the middle of winter at about 7am. In which case, a lilac silk evening gown and strappy sandals might not be the most practical outfit.
Maybe the TARDIS had landed indoors. Or in an alleyway. Yes, she thought, more confidently this time. That must be it. Excitement skipping in her heart again at the thought of the glamorous treat to come, she bounded over to the door.
Only. . .
It was wrong. The darkness outside the TARDIS was decidedly wrong. It was as if something flat and dark and watery-looking had been pressed up against the open door. Martha peered closely. Away to one side, she could vaguely see light – dim, murky, brown light.
And in the darkness, if she peered really closely, she could see tiny grains, swirling and twisting.
Martha reached out her hand gently – and found herself touching the darkness. Only it wasn’t quite solid. There was a bit of give in it, like some sort of transparent rubber membrane. Delicately, she pushed at it, and it stretched away from her. Weird. She pulled her hand back and noted how the stretchy surface rebounded, becoming perfectly flat again.
‘Doctor!’ she called, wondering whether he could even hear her through this strange browny-blackness.
Martha put out her hand to it again, and felt the firm, textureless surface give. Gritting her teeth, she pushed again – and suddenly, her hand and arm were through it. For a moment, she froze, feeling a cool wetness soak through the silk to her skin.
Water, she thought instantly. It’s wa–
And before she could even complete the thought, something powerful and muscled wrapped itself around her wrist. Her mouth was still open in an unfinished scream as she was dragged into the death-dark waters. . .
The Doctor could do nothing but stare blankly at the spot where the TARDIS had vanished. The only thing to mark where she had stood were some scuffed, flattened roots sprouting from the bank.
His first thought had been for Martha – but he suspected that she’d be fine. The fact that just a few air bubbles had broken on the water’s surface showed that either the door had closed before it had fallen in, or that the TARDIS had activated its force field. If the entrance to his ship had been completely open, this whole area would have been draining away by now. The cavernous interior of the TARDIS would be soaking up the water like a huge sponge.
But that didn’t help him with getting it back.
He needed help. He could try diving down into the lake, but the water looked filthy with mud and silt, and even though – given time –
he could probably find it, he wasn’t sure he could hold his breath long enough to actually get inside.
Yes, he needed help.
For the first time, he turned his attention properly to his surroundings. What he’d assumed was a river probably wasn’t: the water was still and flat. Maybe a lake. The TARDIS had landed on a blunt promontory, sticking out into it. The air was thick with damp although his clothes were starting to dry out a little under the influence of the baleful orange sun. There wasn’t much