Menagerie - Martin Day [17]
Herded into a large, bare room with about twenty other men, the Doctor tried his best to remain patient, but without his recorder he had nothing to occupy his mind. Besides, his friends were in trouble as well.
Moments later the Doctor found himself marching to the front of the queue of prisoners waiting to be questioned. He extended his hand to the guard who seemed to be temporarily in charge.
'I'm delighted to meet you. I'm the Doctor. I'm very worried about my friends, and would be grateful if you could —'
The soldier, taking notes at a desk, barely looked up.
'Return to the back of the queue,' he ordered.
'Your superiors will be most annoyed if I am not handed over to them without delay.'
'Really?'
'Well, that tends to be the normal pattern of things,' noted the Doctor sadly.
The soldier placed his quill on the table, and looked at the Doctor closely.
It was at times like these that the Doctor really longed for his previous body: tall, striking, with severe hair the colour of silver moonlight. Back then he could stop a charging bull in its tracks just by clearing his throat. Now? He was sure to stand out from the overweight drunks behind him, but his little body lacked the imposing authority that would have been so useful. Still. He drew himself up to his full height, such as it was, and smiled disarmingly.
'So,' said the guard, 'you don't want to be fined and sent home?'
'I have already paid my fine,' said the Doctor in a forceful voice.
The guard stared back at his unblinking eyes for a moment, and then scratched his head, coughing. 'No you haven't,' he said, with a querulous uncertainty in his voice.
'I've only just started talking to you.'
'If you say so,' said the Doctor sadly. He was clearly very out of practice.
'I assume from your clothes,' said the man, indicating the Doctor's dark frock coat and check-patterned trousers, 'that you are from one of the neighbouring cities.'
The Doctor nodded.
'Ignorance is no excuse,' said the soldier. 'We allow others into our city for up to two days as a concession, not so that they can cavort around the disreputable bars of —'
'I wasn't cavorting,' said the Doctor levelly. 'That's not my style.'
The guard snorted, and reached for another sheet of parchment. 'What is your name?'
'As I said, I am usually called the Doctor.'
The soldier frowned. 'That word means nothing to me. Is it a rank or a mark of peerage?'
'Neither, really,' said the Doctor, watching the man scribble notes across the page.
'Your business here?'
'I don't know,' replied the Doctor. 'I haven't found it yet.
Can we fill that bit in later?'
The guard rose to his feet and with a gloved hand took hold of the Doctor's throat. 'Your city might cherish such impertinence. Ours does not.'
The Doctor pulled himself away. 'Well, of all the confounded stupidity!' He looked around him, desperately.
'I'm simply trying to make your job easier!' He began to shout. 'Somebody, somewhere, I am sure, will find me very interesting indeed!'
'What's all the noise?' came a voice from the far side of the room.
The soldier crashed to attention. 'It's this man, sir. He fails to heed the authority of the City Guard and —'
'Well, he's hardly the first to do that,' said the newcomer, walking across the room towards the Doctor. 'I am Oiquaquil, Captain of the City Guard. You are?'
'The Doctor. I'm a visitor. My friends and I were interested in examining Heddeigé's theories at first hand.
I've not sampled a culture such as your own for quite some time.'
Oiquaquil turned to the guard. 'Do these words make sense to you?' The soldier shook his head. Oiquaquil returned his gaze to the small, energetic man. 'Are you a magician, sir? Your words are mere sounds in my ear.'
'Most certainly not!' spluttered the Doctor. 'I am a philosopher, an explorer, a scientist of some renown —'
The room had been almost silent from the moment that Oiquaquil had entered. Now it was quieter still. A sinking feeling in the Doctor's stomach