Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [54]
Ty noted the change in tone in his voice, from bright and cheery to thoughtful and concerned. It didn’t sound good. ‘The information Pallister contains will facilitate my reproduction.
And Pallister thinks you can add to that information.’
The Doctor rolled his eyes.
‘We are going to be here all day. What information could Pallister possibly have that could help you spawn or bud or whatever it is you do?’
There was another agonising pause whilst the swamp thing processed the Doctor’s words through Pallister’s brain. The man’s eyes were still coal-black and emotionless, but Ty thought she saw just a twitch of his mouth. One arm shuddered, sending more drips of water into the river below.
‘It believes that I should not tell you,’ came Pallister’s voice after a few moments.
‘It?’ the Doctor shouted. ‘It? It is a human being; it is a man called Pallister. He might have been a bit rough around the edges, but at least he had the interests of the people here at heart. Sort of,’ the Doctor finished a little lamely.
‘And I have my interests,’ replied Pallister. ‘Reproduction is the purpose of life.’
‘Oh tosh!’ snapped the Doctor. ‘It might be quite useful but it’s not the be-all and end-all, you know. What about exploring? What about music and dancing and climbing mountains? What about adventure and love and laughing? What about jigsaws, eh?’ He jabbed a finger in Pallister’s direction. ‘That’s what the purpose of life is – living.’
‘Reproduction is my purpose.’
The Doctor shook his head and threw up his hands theatrically.
‘Well there you go, then.’ He turned to Ty. ‘I told you this thing had no brain – and now we know it’s got no heart or soul either. And what exactly does your reproduction involve, then, eh?’ he said to Pallister. ‘Spores? Buds? Dozens of little slime babies popping out of your tentacles?’ He paused and pulled a face. ‘Ew, slime babies.’ He gave a theatrical little shudder. ‘I’ll never eat a jelly baby again.’
‘Pallister thinks you are asking in order to use the information against me.’
‘Oh does he? I’m not sure you can trust the word of a man with a couple of pounds of slime squidged into his head. Plays havoc with the synapses, believe me.’
‘Doctor,’ said Ty suddenly. Extruding itself from the main tendril supporting Pallister’s body was another, thinner one. Glassy and glis-tening, like the one that had attacked Martha in the nest, it was heading towards the Doctor.
‘Time for bed,’ whispered the Doctor as it wove sinuously through the air.
‘You will be me,’ intoned Pallister soullessly.
‘Not today, thank you!’ shouted the Doctor – and reached down to grab one of the tranq guns from Ty’s hand.
‘Will that penetrate it? Remember how tough the one that attacked Martha was!’
‘Oh,’ he said casually, ‘it’s not slimey I’m aiming for!’
The Doctor stretched out his arm and there was a soft pht as the dart embedded itself in the remains of Pallister’s chest.
Seconds later, the barely living body twitched as if it were being electrocuted, and the tendrils supporting it jerked back. The one lancing through the air, heading for the Doctor, began waving and thrashing about aimlessly.
‘I think I might have given it a bit of a headache,’ the Doctor noted drily.
Around them, the otters were motionless. The zombified settlers continued to drift in and out of the grey building as if nothing were happening.
Suddenly, Pallister’s body shuddered, like a dog shaking itself dry.
Then, still suspended by the pulsing green ropes boring into its head, it plunged back into the water.
‘Wait!’ called the Doctor, his tone mock-offended. ‘Where are you going? You were going to tell me about how babies are made and everything! You were going to give us tea and cake!’
But it was too late. Without another word, Pallister vanished beneath the black waters, leaving just a trail of tiny bubbles.
‘Oh!’ said the Doctor snappily. ‘How very