Doctor Who_ Winner Takes All - Jacqueline Rayner [37]
The Doctor picked up Mickey’s mobile off the desk without asking. He walked into the other room. Rose and Mickey looked at each other. ‘It’s sick, isn’t it?’ said Mickey.
She nodded, not really able to bring herself to add to that. Totally sick. Utterly sick. Lose all faith in human nature sick. ‘How’s the knee?’
‘Sore,’ he said. ‘Don’t know how I’m going to cope, to be honest.’
She grimaced in sympathy.
‘What I really need is someone to help me out – look after me, put me to bed, that sort of thing.’
‘Shame I’m busy saving the world,’ she said. ‘I’ll phone social services, if you like. They can sent round some nice old granny to give you a bed bath.’
Mickey grinned. ‘Oh, what a shame the Doctor’s using my phone.’
‘Oh, look, he’s finished,’ said Rose as the Doctor walked back in. But their banter was cut short by the expression on the Doctor’s face. ‘What is it?’ Rose said.
‘Five hundred quid,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s how much death costs off the Internet. Not much more than a wide‐screen telly.’
‘You spoke to someone?’ asked Rose.
The Doctor nodded. ‘And it didn’t sound as if I was the first to call. I reckon your mum’s not the only one who’s been mugged for her winning scratchcard.’
Rose thought of her mum, lying bruised and bloody in a hospital bed. ‘We’ve got to stop this,’ she said.
‘Well, yeah,’ said the Doctor. ‘That’s the general idea.’ He reached out a hand and squeezed her arm, a comforting gesture that belied the very slight sarcasm of his words. Rose noticed Mickey’s face. He didn’t like it; didn’t like their closeness. She understood, but didn’t have time now to worry about Mickey’s feelings.
‘We’ve got to stop it at the source,’ the Doctor was saying. ‘It’s spreading out all over the place down here. Look, this Internet stuff has only just started. Nothing stolen before this afternoon, far as we know. Earliest anyone can get anything by post is tomorrow morning. We’ve got to get to the planet where it’s all happening before then, stop it there. Then it won’t matter who’s got the games, who wins the holidays.’
Rose dragged her attention back to the conversation. ‘What, you found out where this planet is?’ she asked. ‘Can we dash off to the rescue?’
The Doctor’s face hardened. ‘No,’ he said, clenching his fists. ‘I got its name, but it doesn’t mean a thing.’
‘You could pay 500 quid to this bloke and go on the holiday,’ Mickey suggested, and Rose was fairly sure she didn’t really detect just a hint of malice, just the tiniest indication that Mickey wouldn’t mind too much if the Doctor went off ‘on holiday’ and never came back.
‘There’s an idea,’ said the Doctor.
‘What, really?’ said Mickey, slightly incredulous.
The Doctor soon deflated him. ‘Not your actual idea, obviously,’ he said. ‘That’s pretty stupid. But it’s given me an idea… If we could just get hold of one of those holiday scratchcards. With the Quevvils’ teleportation technology, it’d be bound to have a directional circuit in it… I could plug that into the TARDIS…’ He bounded over to the door. ‘Come on, you two.’ Mickey gestured at his knee. ‘Come on, then, just Rose. I need your life savings. We’re buying scratchcards until we get one that wins the holiday.’
At which point Rose remembered her meeting with Dilys by the Quevvils’ booth. She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a small cardboard rectangle. ‘What, like this one?’ she said. ‘Didn’t really seem important earlier…’
She wasn’t sure from the Doctor’s expression whether he wanted to smack her or kiss her.
‘Nice one, Rose,’ said Mickey.
* * *
The Doctor left Mickey with instructions to keep sowing Internet dissent about Death to Mantodeans, make it seem as undesirable as possible, see if their rumour about the consoles catching fire could spread any further.
Mickey suggested actually setting fire to one and calling the local papers, but changed his mind halfway through explaining the plan when he realised that it would be his flat at risk, and with his knee he couldn’t actually run away if things went wrong.