Doctor Who_ Placebo Effect Part 9

He had been very lucky with the use of Karlton's name. He guessed that the scientist would be intimidated enough to check, which would give him some time too snoop around, as administration was pretty much the same the galaxy over and red tape still took a good age or two to cut through.

Meantime, if he b.u.mped into any of the SSS military types, he knew they'd be less amenable to his bluff.

He was aware that tiny hidden cameras were probably monitoring him, but as they were equally monitoring everyone else, he hoped that whatever watchers were watching, they weren't watching too hard.

He pa.s.sed room after room, office after office, on floor after floor. He didn't really know why he was there, only that his insatiable curiosity had once again got the better of him. After following Carrington back towards his building, the Doctor had spotted an SSS vehicle hovering outside the back of the SSS Admin Building and, with his customary skills, he had found a hiding place that ensured he was well concealed but with a good view of what was going on.

And his presentiment had been right on the mark: they had been transporting something large and dead, which, of course, had been a Foamasi.

Foamasi weren't exactly top of his list of favourite alien life-forms - they were aggressive, money-grabbing lizards, whose entire culture was based around corruption, gang warfare and insidious corporate takeovers which hovered uneasily either side of the letter of whatever local laws they encountered. Foamasi lawyers were probably the best-paid Foamasi around, because they could usually guarantee to either find a legal loophole, or arrange for the local judge to be found in a compromising position with someone not considered conducive to popularity within their community.

That aside, the severity of the beating the Foamasi had taken intrigued him.

This was more than a casual murder. This was a warning. And to make a warning of that scale to a Foamasi Lodge was akin to a declaration of war.

The SSS would want to keep this quiet as long as possible.

He exited an elevator, and the holographic display floating just outside the doors told him he was on the thirty-sixth floor. He had selected the b.u.t.ton at random and kept his eyes closed until he got out - he didn't want to spoil the surprise.

Trouble was, eighteen or so black-clad SSS agents were aiming a vicious-looking a.s.sortment of blasters at him.

'Sorry, wrong department. I was looking for haberdashery and underwear.'

'Don't move, Doctor whoever you are.'

'Smith.'

'Nice try.'

'Well, it worked two diousand years ago.'

One of the guards, a young one who looked as if he should still be at school, began frisking him but then stepped back, confused. 'Nothing. He's clean, Sarge.'

'Where's the recorder you took from Sterile Four?'

The Doctor shrugged.'! have no idea what you're talking about.'

The leader of the guards aimed a small silver box at the holo device next to him. The floor number wobbled away to be replaced by an image of him reaching out and stealing the recorder while the medics worked on the dead Foamasi.

'Oh. That recorder. Here.' He slowly put his hand into his pocket and withdrew the recorder.

The young guard who had frisked him stared open mouthed.'It wasn't... I mean, you all saw... I patted him down and it wasn't The sergeant ignored his protests.'Why did you take it?'

'It was more conversational than those people working on the Foamasi.'

"The Commandant wants to talk to you.'

'Marvellous. Saves me asking you to take me to your leader. I presume he is your leader.'

The guards separated and the sergeant and the young guard who had frisked him walked into the elevator, pulling the Doctor with them.

As the doors closed, and the sergeant punched the relevant floor b.u.t.ton, the Doctor nudged the younger man. 'Easy mistake. The pockets are adapted - not part of the original coat. I sewed in an extra dimension - you'd be surprised what else IVe got tucked away in them.'

'Sarge,' the young guard said warningly.

'The prisoner is babbling, Agent. Ignore him. He's just trying to wind you up.'

'Doing quite a good job on both of you, I'd say,' the Doctor said sadly.

As the elevator started to slow down, the Doctor staggered back against the younger soldier, as if fainting. Instinctively, the younger man tried to support him, letting his blaster drop away, so it hung by its strap over his forearm.

'Agent...' began the sergeant, but the Doctor was quicker and he twisted sideways. In doing so, he accidentally knocked the young agent against the wall of the elevator and he slid down silently to the floor. The older sergeant tried to react, but in the confines of the elevator succeeded only in lifting his blaster up, knocking the nozzle into the wall and letting the barrel swing up and catch him a glancing blow on the chin. Apologising profusely, the Doctor gripped the sergeant's face and banged his head back against the elevator wall. A second gentle but forceful tap to the back of his neck dropped him completely.

The Doctor bent down and retrieved the recorder, replacing it in his pocket.

He was about to stand up when the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal another group of agents.

'Oh no, not again...'

'He's never on time!'

Sam was more disappointed than surprised. More importantly she was actually worried. The Doctor could be thoughtless occasionally, sometimes a bit childish and frequently daft, but somehow Sam believed that he wanted to be here, to help celebrate Stacy and Ssard's marriage, and see them off on their honeymoon. But he had not arrived.

'He definitely knew it was the Carlton?' Frankie the Pakhar had suddenly stopped being an amusingly camp little tailor and become a rather serious and concerned friend of the Doctor's. "This is unlike him, you know.'

'I know.'

'I mean, I can remember when he was that older guy with the white hair - he never missed an opportunity to knock back a couple of good vintages and taste the best greenery dial Pakhar had to offer, you know.' Frankie smiled and rubbed his whiskers, which Sam had come to a.s.sociate with signifying tiiat a Pakhar was amused. 'I once left him a note in a bottle on Talin Vm, you know. It said, 'Meet you at Ca'nt'rs in five years from today.'

And blow me down, he was there. Turned out he actually went every year on the same date as I'd forgotten to tell him when I actually left the message. But that's the sort of guy the Doctor is. Reliable, you know.'

Sam rather wished she'd known this 'reliable' previous Doctor, but just nodded at Frankie's story. She felt his tiny paw slip into her hand and squeeze. 'He'll be fine, love, you know. Have faith.'

Sam suddenly wanted to hug the little Pakhar. She didn't know why, she just did. But all she actually did was pat his paw gratefully.'Go join the others, Frankie. I'll go and look for him.'

'Maybe he's back at the TARDIS, you know,' Frankie suggested.'I mean, I got lost in there once and he got even more lost trying to find me. Mind you, he was that large guy with the dreadful coat by then - dial one couldn't find his way out of a paper bag sometimes.'

As Frankie scampered back to their table, Sam left the restaurant and wandered into the walkway. Above her, a couple of vehicles hovered around, and a few pedestrians were hurrying into the rather portentous-looking shopping mall nearby - Sam liked the concept of twenty-four-hour shopping.

The walkways were lined with immaculate green gra.s.s and neat shrubs.

The whole mall had a neatness to it without being formulaic. It was as if someone had mapped the whole of Carrington City out on a computer but then added a code to move every eighdi bush and third building just a few degrees off the perfect grid, so that it looked less perfect, less likely to induce the misery and gloom that blighted the identical blocks of flats and estates built back in her own time.

Carrington City was very attractive, no doubt about that. It reminded her of those promotional films they used to show on telly about Milton Keynes or Docklands, where everyone smiled a lot and there was no graffiti, no urban decay, and lots of trees, gla.s.s buildings and litter-free pathways. Unlike those promotional films, the reality of Carrington City had mirrored those concepts rather nicely. Sam would have no objection to staying here a while, shopping (well, the TARDIS ATM did seem to have an inexhaustible cash flow in any currency) and watching the Olympic Games. If the Doctor had the right contacts, maybe they'd get front-row seats.

She waved down a courtesy bus, which took her for free to roughly where the TARDIS was parked. After she disembarked, she took a circuitous route back to the s.h.i.+p - experience had made this kind of behaviour instinctive; she never ever let strangers see where the TARDIS was (unless it was pretty obvious, such as the time it had materialised on Rockefeller Plaza amid a bunch of shocked ice skaters) and always took the longest route back to it (unless being chased by Daleks, Zygons or Psionovores).

The TARDIS was there, tucked away behind a sweetshop that had closed for the night (obviously the malls had better pulling power for the tourists).

She tapped on the door, but there was no answer. Taking the key from around her neck, she opened the door and the interior brightened up as she entered the console room.'h.e.l.lo?'

No reply, although Sam thought that the background hum of the s.h.i.+p had grown a fraction louder. Perhaps this was the TARDIS's unique way of returning her greeting.'Doctor?'

The hum dropped momentarily - she took that as the TARDIS telling her he wasn't home. With a sigh (she knew she'd regret doing this), she stared at the central column on the console.'Look, if he comes back without me, tell him I was looking for him, will you? I'm sure you can find a way of doing that.'

The TARDIS hum rose again, then dropped back to normal.

Sam decided that she was mad - it was just a machine after all, and, no matter how many times the Doctor referred to it as a 'she', Sam had always promised herself she'd never do the same. Until now.

'Thanks,' she said and left the s.h.i.+p, locking the door behind her.

'Don't move!' snapped a voice, and a series of rather harsh handheld flashlights caught her in their beams. Sam could just make out a blur of silhouettes and she s.h.i.+elded her eyes.

'Can I help?' she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

The beams lowered so that she was now standing in a circle of light. There were five or six of them, dressed in black and all armed.

'You are required at the SSS Admin Building. Now.'

'Oh, Doctor, what have you done now?' Sam muttered, just knowing this was his fault.

'It's late. Again.'

Ms Sox jumped slightly - she thought Chase Carrington had headed home hours ago. She moved away from the computer screen, hoping she didn't look guilty, and smiled at her boss.

'I know. I just wanted to wrap up a couple of things before tomorrow. A couple of the staff are heading off to the Stadium tomorrow, guests of a some of the workers there. I'm ensuring we can spare them.'

Carrington nodded.'Very conscientious, Ms Sox, but I think it's good for morale to let them go up and see the project. Makes everyone feel that they're contributing to the whole thing, rather than being stuck here all day.'

He scratched at one of the tufts of hair that Ms Sox hated so much.'Well, I'm off home. See you in the morning.'

'Good night, sir.'

'Oh, and Ms Sox?'

'Sir?'

'Don't stay too late again. Especially considering how late you were here last night. The project will go ahead on time, and even you need to rest now and again.'

Ms Sox nodded.'Of course, Mr Carrington. Half an hour, and I'm off.'

Carrington turned to go and Ms Sox moved fractionally back to her screen.

'Oh, one last thing.'

Resisting the urge to shove the screen down her employer's throat out of sheer impatience, Ms Sox gritted her teeth, then smiled at him. 'Sir?'

'Did the Carlton look after our newly-weds?'

"Yes, sir, although I understand that they were two down eventually. I took the liberty of paying for their flight to Kolpasha, where they are having their honeymoon. The human's parents are travelling with them, before going on to one of the Deimos colonies. I haven't paid for them.'

'Fair enough. I think we've done our bit for public relations.' With a farewell smile he finally left.

Sighing quietly, Ms Sox returned to her computer screen. If Carrington had a.s.sumed that she was working, or playing Tetris, he was mistaken. On the screen was a highly illegal relayed image, beamed directly there from the supposedly security-tight SSS Administration Building.

She was watching the two missing dinner guests being shouted at by someone.'ID bottom left,' she said quietly.

The image zoomed in on the speaker, the pixels rearranging themselves to keep the face perfectly focused. A line of text ran across the bottom of the screen: COMMANDANT GARY RITCHIE.

'ID top left, female.'

PRISONER GPR/64. NAME: UNKNOWN. STATUS: UNKNOWN.

'Race?'

BIOSCAN INDICATES HUMAN.

'ID top right, male.'

PRISONER GPR/63. NAME: UNKNOWN. STATUS: DOCTOR.

'A doctor? Medical or scientific?'

UNKNOWN. PRISONER USES 'DOCTOR' AS GIVEN NAME.

Ms Sox pursed her lips.'Does he indeed. Now that's interesting. Race?'

UNKNOWN. BIOSCAN DOES NOT MATCH ANY OF THE 1,362 RACES.

ON THE GALACTIC FEDERATION DATABASE.

'Give me access to the database of the Galactic Federation.'

Pa.s.sWORD REQUIRED.

'Override. Jadean Privilege.'

OVERRIDE UNACCEPTABLE.

Ms Sox cursed. The Federation database was always doing this, just to frustrate hackers like her. Well, to be honest, it was doing it to protect the data itself, but at times like this, it always seemed as if it was done just to spite her.'Keyboard.'

A holographic keyboard plopped into view in front of her and she punched a series of letters and numbers.

OVERRIDE ACCEPTED.