Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [65]
‘How easy is it, anyway, to build an atomic bomb?’ asked Martha.
‘Aren’t they, like, quite technical?’
‘Oh in principle they’re very simple,’ the Doctor replied, making two fists and holding them out at arm’s length. ‘You get a metal casing and two small lumps of uranium-235 along with a couple of explosive charges to slam them into each other.’ He brought his fists together.
‘When combined they create a critical mass. All you need is a bit of gubbins to hold it all in place, a bit more gubbins to act as a detona-tor – and voilà! Instant Armageddon!’
‘That easy?’ Martha was aghast.
‘Well, OK, maybe not quite that easy – but well within the capabilities of people who are running their own nuclear reactor. Well within the capabilities of Pallister, I should imagine, and that’s where slimey’s getting his information from. It fits perfectly with the parts the settlers remembered fetching for it. And it’s not like it’s got to worry about protecting you lot from radiation.’
The Doctor turned to Orlo. ‘I hate to ask,’ he said, ‘but we need someone out there to keep an eye on the otters even more than ever.
If that creature is planning to drop an atomic bomb down the bore hole, we need as much warning as we can get.’ He gripped Orlo by the shoulder. ‘You up for it?’
Orlo grinned. ‘Try and stop me!’ he said.
‘He’s a good lad, that one,’ the Doctor said as Orlo vanished. ‘Common sense and enthusiasm – the best qualifications I can think of.
Maybe you should make him the head of the Council when this is all over.’ ‘ If,’ said Ty.
‘Oh, Professor Benson!’ exclaimed the Doctor. ‘Look on the bright side!’
‘Anyway – how’s that sonic doo-dah of yours? Cleaned it out yet?
It’s the only thing we’ve got that’ll work against all those otters, remember.’
He fished the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and gave it another go. The light was brighter this time, but it began to fade after a few moments. Desolately, he tossed it into the air and Martha caught it.
‘Technology!’ he snorted. ‘It’s all rubbish in the end, isn’t it! Still, Professor Benson, we have something even better at our disposal, haven’t we?’
‘You’re talking about your brain again, aren’t you?’ said Ty wryly.
His face fell. ‘Am I that transparent?’
‘As glass,’ Ty grinned.
‘What’s the point of this?’ asked Ty as she watched the Doctor power up the centrifuge. With a whine, it rattled up to speed whilst the Doctor rolled his sleeve back down and set the hypodermic back on the table.
‘Plan B,’ the Doctor said. ‘Or Plan A, I suppose. Depending on whether I can come up with a Plan C.’
‘What?’ Ty was now totally confused.
The Doctor had dragged her over to the bio lab and, in a frenetic whirl of activity, had activated the tabletop display. He punched up dozens of different images of the proteins that he’d extracted from himself, Martha and the otters. She’d followed him around the room as he’d started up all sorts of pieces of equipment, transferring vials of fluids from one to another, running the results through the chromato-graph and the sequencer, testing them again and then going through the whole process all over again. Martha had been sent off to see if she could find any plans or schematics of the drill site and information about the ship’s power cores.
The Doctor’s final step had been the most frightening: with a cry of ‘Yes!’ he’d taken the last test tube of straw-coloured fluid, filled a hypodermic with it – and jabbed it into his own arm.
‘What the future are you doing?’ she cried, reaching out to snatch the syringe from him. But she was too late. He closed his eyes, leaned back against the table and gave a deep sigh.
‘Shush,’ he said softly, raising a finger. ‘The Doctor-o-tronic needs shush. Biiiig shush.’
Ty glared at him. How could he be so stupid? Hadn’t he learned anything from what had happened last night?