Doctor Who_ Ten Little Aliens Part 34

The Doctor chuckles again. 'Quite a feeling is it not? You can grasp and connect these ethereal filaments as though they were real. And so repair the systems.'

'Please, Doctor. I must concentrate.' He senses how uncomfortable we are at his presence. Retreats.

When he speaks again it is through the wrist-comm.

'Tovel's had some experience of the way these Schirr circuits work. Let us seek his help. Then the two of us can advise you.'

We study the schematics, brooding. We have never much appreciated the advice of others.

There's only silence as we wait. Then, stealthy footsteps.

The sound of something coming.

To continue in Creben's viewpoint, select section 18 on page 227

To switch to Haunt's viewpoint, select section 11 on page 215

3.

Frog

What you looking at? Ain't nothing going on. Except kilo on kilo of fresh Schirr meat on our bones. So unfair. You know we only joined the military to lose some weight? That and to get away from home. Maybe find a home. While we still had half a face.

Wonder how much of it we got left now.

Don't wanna think. Just gonna lie here and talk aloud. It's a good voice we got now. s.e.xy, you know? Swear we're turning ourself on here, even saying prayers. Just lying real still, praying.

I'm gonna go on feeling sorry for myself, you know. You should go somewhere less dull.

Haunt's found something you might find kinda interesting.

Switch to Haunt's viewpoint. Select section 5 on page 202

4.

Tovel

Step after step on pins and needles down the tunnel. We can't stop looking at our hands. Knew a pilot in the volunteers who lost his hands once. Not from any war.

Accident. All he could say was, 'I'll never fly again. I'll never fly anything ever again.' We felt so sorry for him. We knew what it would be like if it happened to us. Not just to lose a part of us, but the part that made made us what we were. us what we were.

Now we look at our hands and we keep telling ourself, 'I'll never fly again.' Not through pity. Because we're scared if we take us some s.h.i.+p up out into the skies it's gonna be Schirr.

A Schirr s.h.i.+p. And the Schirr'll be our best buddies and we'll take them wherever they want to go.

'You all right, mate?' Ben says quietly. He keeps looking at us. Thinks we don't see him doing it. Thinks we can't feel him sneaking inside to check this miserable tunnel looks the same through our eyes. Bill we don't blame him. He's only scared, like we are.

'Tovel?' Ben prompts us 'I'm a good pilot. Did you hear Haunt say that?'

'Yeah, course.'

We shake our head. '"Turn this thing around," she said. Do you remember back in the control room? "Turn this thing around before..." She never finished. 'We stop for a second.

We don't quite know how to cry with our face the way it is.

And I couldn't finish it for her either.'

Ben's silent for a few moments. Then he says: 'It ain't over yet.' He sounds optimistic.

We listen to him and we want to believe it. But it feels like a part of us is just drifting away. Watching the changes happen from somewhere far away. Cut off with no way to get back.

And then we can't walk any more. Our legs won't respond.

We stare at them. Ben calls our name but we barely recognise it. We start to beat our legs with the hands that aren't our own. We shout at them.

But we shut up when Ben starts yelling in our head. He's telling everyone we've fallen. That we can't go on any more, and he doesn't know what he should do. We hear other voices but they're vague, quiet.

It's so dark. No sign even of that stupid weed. Pitch dark.

We're shouting to Ben. Shouting that we're all right. That we'll be all right in just a few moments. That we'll beat this thing.

We feel his hand on ours. He squeezes our wrist. We know, even by that simple touch, he understands. Strangers, practically, us and him. But we feel like we might be something more now.

He's leaving. Maybe he's just scouting ahead. We shout again, but he won't answer back. We can hear his footsteps as he backs away and rounds some unseen corner.

To witness these events from Ben's viewpoint, select section 25 on page 239 239

To switch to Haunt's viewpoint, select section 9 on page 209

5.

Haunt

'Doctor, wait. Someone's up ahead.'

They're propped up in the shadows. The fleas look like they're feasting on them, whoever they are.

'It's Roba,' declares the Doctor.

We see he's right. Sort of. This twitching thing used to be Roba. His dark skin is mottling, felling away to the s.h.i.+ny new flesh of a Schirr. His head looks like someone's pumped it up. His features, still focussed in the centre, form a scabby little continent in the waste of a dark sea.

'He's wearing his webset,' the Doctor observes.

'Angels put it there,' whispers Roba. His eyes look fearfully up at us. He ignores the Doctor. It's us he responds to.

'Showed me things in my head,' he says.

'What things?' asks the Doctor slowly, like Roba doesn't speak the language.

'What are you bothering to ask him for?' We tap the metal band clamped round his sweaty head with our gun. 'Fix up his set. Let's see in his head.'

He fiddles with the metal band. We breathe in sharply, close our eyes. Roba's here with us.

Only he's someone else, and he's back in the control room.

We realise we're seeing the place as it was before we came.

Our skin starts to crawl.

'Everyone,' we snap into our wrist-comm, and yell inside our heads. Tune in to Roba. I think you'll want to see this.'

Switch to Roba's viewpoint. Select section 13 on page 219

6.

Polly

We were uneasy, here alone with Shade in the gloom of the pa.s.sage. Oh, we're scared to death as well - whatever we find out there it can only be bad - but this feeling of uneasiness is something separate. It's our first time alone with Shade since we talked together about his past. Except we're not alone any more. Our head's like a revolving door with all these people going in and out any time they choose.

We wonder if Shade feels awkward too. We could probably look inside and see, but it doesn't feel right to even try.

He looks at us. 'You haven't told anyone, have you,' he Says. 'About any of it. Not even your friends.' He's not asking a question. It's a statement. And he's right, of course.

'Maybe there's more important things to talk about right now than your guilty conscience,' we say.

He thinks this over for a while as we go. Looks almost wounded.

'Besides,' we add. 'I keep secrets.'

'So do I,' he whispers. 'Keep them for so long, I can't ever let go of them.'

We break off our march, look into his eyes. They seem to glow in sympathy with the mossy ceiling. 'You should see your face; we tell him. The skin is barely marked, looks baby soft. 'It's like nothing ever happened.'

He bites his lip. 'It happened.' He places a finger on the outline of Lindey's palmscreen, visible through our grimy yellow suit above the hip. 'It's all there.'