Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [64]
‘And it worked?’ This was Ty, eyes wide with disbelief.
‘Oh, they never actually built it – too many practical problems. But in theory it could have done. The back end of the ship was nothing more than a huge steel plate, designed to absorb the radiation and act as a cushion, letting the energy of the bombs push the rocket forwards.
A bit brutal for my tastes, but where would we be if everyone thought the same, eh?’
Henig shook his head. ‘You’re mad!’ he said, looking around the crowd for agreement. ‘You expect us to believe that this thing’s going to take the power core from the ship, turn it into a bomb, drop it down the bore hole and then sit back and go surfboarding into space on a chunk of rock?’
‘Oh, I’ve known people try to surfboard into space on far more un-believable things,’ the Doctor said. ‘But yes – you’ve summed it up nicely, Henig.’
The Doctor pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket for the umpteenth time and waved it around. A faint blue light came from the tip and it emitted a feeble buzzing, like the sound of a dying fly.
Henig and the other Sundayans were arguing about what the Doctor had told them. Martha couldn’t quite tell which way it was going.
Some of them had started crying. Others just shouted and banged their fists on tables, as if that would help.
The Doctor pulled a grumpy face and smacked the sonic screwdriver against the palm of his hand, examining the flecks of mud that came out.
‘Listen,’ Martha said, trying to change the subject. ‘I’ve been thinking. Why don’t we take a few people out into the swamp, find the TARDIS, and just give them all a lift back home? Problem solved!
Then that thing can set off its bomb, and it won’t matter. It can blow itself to kingdom come for all we’ll care.’ She gave him a bright, opti-mistic smile.
‘And what if they don’t want to go, eh? Have you asked them?’
‘You think they’re going to want to stay with slimey out there about to blowup half the planet? And even if it doesn’t, they’d have to be mad to carry on living here, especially if we can’t get rid of it.’
‘These people have invested their whole lives in this place, Martha –
the dead ones literally. They’re not going to give up without a fight.
And besides, if we let slimey blow its seeds into space, who knows what the next planet it infects is going to be.’ He paused, pointedly.
‘It could even be Earth. No, the fat lady’s not even out of her dressing room yet, never mind started singing. And we,’ he tapped her on the chin, ‘are going to make sure that she can’t find her costume.’
With perfect dramatic timing, Orlo came rushing into the room.
‘They’ve started up the drill!’ he gasped, steadying himself on the back of a chair as the settlers crowded round. ‘I’ve just heard it! I wasn’t sure at first, but. . . ’
‘Oh whoopty-doo,’ said the Doctor tiredly. ‘You know, I think the fat lady’s just had her five-minute call.’ He looked around the room, eyes suddenly narrow and thoughtful.
That’s his ‘Right! Time for a plan’ face! thought Martha.
‘Is there a geologist in the house?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Or a Sunday-ologist, I suppose. And not someone who studies ice creams, thank you Martha.’
Ha ha.
A stocky black guy with a weird, asymmetric beard stood up.
‘Excellent!’ said the Doctor. ‘What’s the ground like out there? Will the shaft need some clearing out?’
The man nodded. ‘It’s been untouched since before the flood,’ he said. ‘I reckon that it’ll take ’em two or three hours to establish a proper shaft.’
‘Buys us a bit of time,’ the Doctor said thoughtfully, chewing on his lip.
The room fell quiet again, and it was Ty who broke the silence. ‘So you really think that dropping a bomb down the hole will protect the creature from the radiation and the blast?’
The Doctor shrugged, wide-eyed. ‘Depends on the size of the bomb.
Depends on the density of the ground. Depends on how strong that thing is. But it’ll certainly give it more protection from the blast and the radiation than detonating it above ground.’ He paused for a moment.