Doctor Who_ Wolfsbane - Jac Rayner [22]
Dear Doctor Smith,
Thank you for the very interesting short stories. While I was impressed by your imagination, and the writing itself undoubtedly has a lot to commend it, I found the stories themselves somewhat confusing. I got the impression that you yourself were not always clear on the events you were trying to get across. You seem to be overflowing with ideas and are attempting to squeeze too many into each story - you have an fascinating tale of men whose body parts are replaced by machinery, for example, but you go on to crowd the issue. I can see the relevance of the giant clockwork soldiers, an interesting metaphor on the men in war who follow orders blindly, but cannot, I‟m afraid, work out the significance of the walking cacti or the monsters you describe as being like „huge clumps of spaghetti‟. And then for no reason that I can see, you have decided to set all this in the lost city of Atlantis.
I would be happy to see other „astounding stories‟ by you, but you need to learn to discipline your imagination, and be clear in your own head exactly what these adventures are about.
One last thing - if we accept any of your stories for publication, I‟m afraid we‟d have to insist on a different pseudonym; yours is too close for comfort to the name of our regular contributor E.E. „Doc‟ Smith, author of the Lensman series, and could confuse confusion in our readers‟ minds.
There was a creak on the stairs. Harry jumped, the desk lid slamming back down. He whirled around, tripping over a cable, ending up face down on the floor.
He was hurriedly brushing himself down as the creak turned into footsteps, and the footsteps got nearer. Harry‟s cheeks burned. How could he possibly explain this?
But when the Doctor came in, he didn‟t seem to notice Harry‟s embarrassment.
„I - I hope I haven‟t ruined anything,‟ Harry stammered.
The Doctor shook his head. „It‟s not switched on.‟ He paused. „Not had a lot of time to work on this lately,‟ he said.
„I was getting on well last night, but then I got word of disturbances out in the woods, and had to abandon it.‟
„Lucky for me you did,‟ said Harry. Reminded of his obligation to the Doctor, he felt even more embarrassed. He certainly couldn‟t probe for more information on this strange TARDIS-sized box. And the Doctor, although amazingly relaxed about the situation, didn‟t volunteer any.
„I‟ve made coffee,‟ said the Doctor, „but I don‟t think Godric likes it very much.‟
They went back down the stairs, Harry still feeling deeply humiliated. Spying on an enemy was one thing. Spying on someone who had saved his life was really another. And however high his heart had leapt for a second, he had to accept that this wasn‟t the Doctor.
Godric was sipping at his mug of coffee, screwing up his face. He tried to hide his expression when the Doctor and Harry came in.
„Don‟t worry,‟ the Doctor said, „it‟s an acquired taste. And you haven‟t really had the opportunity to acquire it yet.‟
Overall, though, Godric was coping amazingly well. Harry was worried at first that he was accepting it all through the numbness of shock, but he revised his opinion later. The boy was just resilient. Though perhaps some of it was due to Harry‟s brainwave - „It‟s the sort of thing Merlin might do,‟
he‟d said, hoping that in whatever bizarre pseudo-medieval world Godric had come from, Merlin was a key figure. And yes, he was.
It hadn‟t been that long before Godric began to ask questions. Hesitant questions, because he hadn‟t wanted to appear rude. But it was all very strange to him - their clothes, their manner of speaking - and they‟d had to explain that somehow he was in the future. Harry hadn‟t been entirely sure about that. Could Godric come from the past -
the proper past - when the past, as for as he knew, hadn‟t contained a real Camelot full of chivalry and magicians and quests? The Doctor had been rather more accepting about that.
But