Doctor Who_ Unnatural History Part 27

But, when Fitz looked again, the front of the cabinet was a set of oddly sized drawers instead of the doors no, at the same time at the same time as the doors, somehow. And there were more drawer handles visible on the other sides of the box as well as the doors, somehow. And there were more drawer handles visible on the other sides of the box as well more drawers than could possibly fit in the s.p.a.ce inside.

The unnaturalist reached for one of the drawer handles. Fitz could have sworn the cabinet backed away from him, but its master caught the handle firmly and dragged the drawer out. It slid out to more than six feet long, three times as deep as the cabinet it extended from.

Then he crooked a finger in Fitz's direction.

Suddenly Fitz felt Hench arms grabbing him, stumbling him towards the unnaturalist. Before he could convince his legs to try running for it, the Henches had manhandled him up to the cabinet, hoisted him off the floor, and laid him into the drawer.

He could hear them moving around, see shadows moving in the half-inch of vision he had. Footsteps were coming towards him.

168.

And the unnaturalist was standing over him, holding a foot-long knife in his spidery fingers. Griffin had overlapping silhouettes thrown by the scattered lamps, a spidery ma.s.s of darkness with far too many arms and hands and fingers. He'd hooked a small metal spike on to the blade, jutting out at right angles near the hilt.

Fat Hench hands pushed Fitz down against the drawer. The unnaturalist's fingers flicked in a way that was impossible to follow. Now he was miming holding the knife, but the blade was nowhere to be seen.

And then the unnaturalist stepped up near Fitz's head, and the knife-hand came stabbing down.

Fitz couldn't help it, he screamed.

He heard the thunk as the knife embedded itself in the wood beneath his head. Saw the hand an inch from his forehead, still grasping the invisible hilt.

It twisted twisted, and suddenly he could feel the sharp line of pain pressing against the inside of his skull.

And the unnaturalist was staring down at him, clinically.

Long fingers reached down to finger the displaced blindfold.

The unnaturalist sighed. 'This is why I provide the blindfold. You do more damage by flinching.'

'What. . . ?' managed Fitz.

'If you stay still I'll tell you. The fastener's designed so that when it's rotated back into your dimensions, it lodges at two points. Embedded in the drawer, and at the point of fastening.' He demonstrated by flipping another knife into invisibility and stabbing it into the side of the drawer above Fitz's head, right in his field of view. Then he made that twisting motion again, and Fitz could see a tiny line of metal the tip of the side spike hanging in the air.

'That point was calibrated to lodge in the bone of your skull, where it would do minimal damage,' the unnaturalist grumbled. 'But you flinched. So now there's a two-dimensional line of steel just inside inside your skull, pressing directly against your cerebrum. I don't suggest you move.' your skull, pressing directly against your cerebrum. I don't suggest you move.'

Take it out, he wanted to say, for G.o.d's sake take it out. But he didn't dare open his mouth. Don't speak, don't move. Could he stop himself from blinking?

Was it all right to breathe?

The unnaturalist gave a slight nod and went on staking down Fitz's hands and ankles.

'You can breathe, and speak if you must,' he said, conversationally. 'You yourself are not a very distinctive specimen. . . '

169.

'Thanks.' Well, that wasn't much of a riposte. He should have said, I think Sam Jones might say differently. That would have moved too much.

'. . . but you are useful at the moment. I believe the effect your capture will have on the Doctor and Miss Jones will be significant. Presumably they'll want you back alive.'

I'd like to think so, he thought.

'But if I decide that you're not worth the trouble of keeping, and if I rotate the third dimension of the fastener back into your s.p.a.ce. . . ' He reached for the extra fastener lodged in the drawer above, twisted again, and the rest of the blade reappeared. '. . . then that that will be running through your brain. Now I do hope you'll be quiet.' will be running through your brain. Now I do hope you'll be quiet.'

It was dark by the time they pulled into the block of old Victorian row-houses.

Sam's legs had finally stopped shaking, but now it felt hard to lift her head.

Fitz was shouting at her again. Those frantic words from the other side of the bathroom door as she stood there frozen, the note of panic that crept in as the door to the room banged open, her curling up in a ball on the floor as his cries for help pa.s.sed inches from her ear on the other side of the wall.

Some kind of hero.

'Nothing to feel bad about,' the Doctor said out of the blue. 'You did perfectly well, considering. I'm sure you'll handle it better the next time.'

'You think so?' she muttered.

He nodded, curls flying. 'I know so. Of course you will.'

She said nothing. The Bug pulled up outside a run-down row-house that was almost indistinguishable from the ones on either side. She stared at the Music & Arts Center sign hanging outside the building, feeling no urge to move at all.

'We've arrived,' said the Doctor.

'Wonder where the owners are,' she said.

'Oh, I'd guess they were early additions to his collection.' He unfastened his seat belt and began to open his door. 'All right. To work.'

She stared at him for a moment, his hands in his pockets as he studied the approaches to the building, as casual as you liked. This was a man, or creature, for whom this sort of stunt was as natural as brus.h.i.+ng his teeth. She was so far out of her depth.

But he'd said she'd do better. He was sure she could make it this time. He knew what he was talking about, and if he believed she could do it she could.

'Right,' she said, reaching for her door handle. 'Let's go.'

He caught her hand, and his eyes were horribly polite.

170.

'Er,' he said. 'Perhaps you'd better wait here.'

Fitz was trying to work out what would happen when the unnaturalist folded the box back up again, imagining his body rolling up like a window shade. A trickle of sweat was worming its way into the corner of his eye, and the tip of his nose itched madly. Oh, G.o.d, what if he had to sneeze? His head jerking forward, that tiny steel blade slicing through soft grey matter 'I'm afraid the higher dimensions aren't very wide in three-s.p.a.ce terms,' said the unnaturalist. 'We're going to use fractal dimensional compression techniques on you. The effect is disorientating, I'm told.'

'Stop,' said someone.

It took Fitz a moment to recognise the Doctor's voice. He held very still, biting back the urge to shout out.

'Take that knife out of Fitz's head, Griffin,' said the Doctor. 'I've got information to trade. If you don't have it, you'll be dead within a day.'

He could hear them moving around. A scuffling sound. He strained his eyes downward, tried to get a glimpse, but he couldn't, he couldn't tell what was going on. . .

'I'm not going to give up such a useful specimen,' said the unnaturalist. 'Not yet.'

The Doctor started, 'This entire city '

'I know about the Kraken,' said the unnaturalist. 'Very likely I know more about it than you do. Hold on to him!'

The sound of a struggle, thought Fitz. His hands tried to leap up, the pins tore into them. It almost felt like there was another one through his chest. He was nearly crying with the pain.

'Listen to me,' said the Doctor. 'His biodata is absolutely normal and ordinary.

He's no specimen. Why not save that drawer for something more interesting?'

'I don't think so,' said Griffin. 'It's time to put your friend away safely, Doctor.

Bear in mind that only I have the key.'

'Fitz ' said the Doctor, but something cut him off.

Suddenly the unnaturalist was looming over him, and the drawer was moving, the room receding as the cabinet closed in around him. 'And then,' the unnaturalist went on, 'you and I are going to settle you, once and for all.'

And the drawer shut, and almost everything stopped.

Chapter Sixteen.

Anything I Can Pry Loose is Not Nailed Down The clock wouldn't shut up. It was an old a.n.a.logue one, each tick a heavy clunk, and Sam could feel it getting louder and louder till she wanted to tear it out of the dashboard and smash something with it.

The keys were in the ignition, ready to go. He'd left them so if when he came charging out of that building with Fitz in tow, she could have the car started before he reached it.

But he wasn't coming out.

The keys were in the ignition, ready to go.

Time to just get out of here. She let the thought fill her head, trying to let it convince her. Without the Doctor there was nothing she could do: the city was about to get trashed no matter what. She should just take the first plane home, back to the video store and whichever Sam's life was waiting back in London, and, if the Faction or the unnaturalist tracked her down again, well it would be the same as having to fend for herself here. . . She let the thought fill her head, trying to let it convince her. Without the Doctor there was nothing she could do: the city was about to get trashed no matter what. She should just take the first plane home, back to the video store and whichever Sam's life was waiting back in London, and, if the Faction or the unnaturalist tracked her down again, well it would be the same as having to fend for herself here. . .

'Cept she couldn't. The money belt with her ticket voucher was on the floor of the hotel room no way could she get it, they'd be waiting for her there.

Even going to the cops was right out the only two people who'd ever believe her story were the ones who were trapped in there.

She slammed her head against the headrest, trying to drown out the clock.

It was all that b.a.s.t.a.r.d's fault for being a hero.

If he hadn't been heroic back in London she'd never have gone with him. If Fitz hadn't been a hero in the hotel room. . . well she wouldn't have got away and had to feel guilty about it. And, if the Doctor hadn't decided to heroically rescue Fitz, he wouldn't have got captured himself.

And now they were all staring at her, expecting her to be a hero to save them.

b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

You're crazy, Fitz screamed at her through the bathroom door. Look how bad you've screwed up already.

No choice. Never any choice.

172.

She punched the dashboard a few times and started trying to think.

He could just about bear being extradimensionally nailed to the rack again, thought the Doctor. Except that there was an itch right below his wrist, just past the fastener, and it was going to drive him utterly mad.

The unnaturalist was folding Fitz up. It was ridiculous to see it that way, considering he'd already been rotated at right angles to s.p.a.ce-time as they knew it, but the Doctor couldn't help but feel it as the unnaturalist bent and collapsed the heavy wooden cabinet.

Heavens only knew what Fitz was seeing in there. He'd given a split-second cry as the drawer began to shut.

Somewhere outside, the Doctor could hear another wave of thunder, as the latest ripple of disruption crashed through. They were coming faster, closer together. There were only hours left.

'We really should pool our resources, you know,' he told the unnaturalist.

'If you could throw together something like that box that kind of stabilised dimensional field would be a much better bandage for the s.p.a.ce-time scar.

And one without my TARDIS's sometimes infuriating tendency towards self-preservation, which is what's keeping it from being a perfect fit in the first place '

The unnaturalist turned away, picking the box off the floor. 'I'm afraid that's outside the purpose of my expedition.' He continued to twist and collapse the box, like wooden origami.

'Oh, I don't think it'll help your specimen hunting when the Kraken flattens oh no. You wouldn't wouldn't.'

'Wouldn't what?' enquired the unnaturalist.

The Doctor pulled against the restraints, shouting, 'You're going to try to capture a Kraken, aren't you! That's what this is all for.'

He could see the unnaturalist blanch from across the storeroom.

'Tempting as it may be as a specimen,' said Griffin faintly, 'I believe that, in the case of a Kraken, discretion is the better part of scientific enquiry.'

'I'd love to see you try,' said the Doctor. 'You're just a boy running around with a b.u.t.terfly net. Just wait till you try to catch a rhino with it.'

'The Kraken will soon pa.s.s,' said the unnaturalist. 'In a few hours, it rises.

Shortly after that, it devours the anomaly and returns whence it came. But merely to record its pa.s.sing. . . ' His eyes glittered. 'Records of a confirmed sighting alone will cement my reputation in the Society.'

'Well not if you're a smear on the cement after it rolls over you. . . '

173 The unnaturalist paid him no mind. 'And it is only one specimen among the many which have been drawn here by the anomaly. Creatures from outside my people's limited reach into the higher dimensions.'

Griffin picked up a metal instrument. 'Even now my Henches are collecting the remaining specimens, including those they've now gathered from the Basardi records, and those you reported to the Interesting Times Interesting Times. Higher Concepts and rarae aves rarae aves. Basilesques and Mockatrices from the adjacent three-s.p.a.ce planes. Curiosities and rarities of a thousand sorts.

'And you.'