Doctor Who_ The Tomorrow Windows Part 13

You're right, we should find him.' He stood, straightening his cuffs. 'Charlton?'

As Charlton followed them up the steps to the door, a short, imperious twiddle of trumpet drew the Doctor's attention back to the television. The picture cleared to reveal the blind newsreader once more.

'Gabak forces have held the city of Terranaton. There were no Gabak casualties.' The screen cut a juddery image of a line of tanks, their gun barrels swivelling.

After a disappointed glance at the screen, the Doctor dug out his sonic screwdriver and attempted to unlock the doorway. He failed. 'It's still secured. . . but I thought the attack was over? No all-clear?' He drummed his hands on the door, and shouted across the room, 'While we're all here, how about a sing-song?'

The Gabaks turned their indignant faces towards him.

'"It's a long way to Tipperary. . . "' The Doctor bounced down into the shelter. 'Except, you don't have any idea what I'm talking about. You're just going through the motions.'

'Doctor ' hissed Trix.

'You've forgotten, haven't you?'

An old woman lifted her face. 'What have we forgotten?'

The Doctor addressed the gathered crowd. 'What are you fighting for for?'

'The Aztales. . . are evil.'

'Evil? Are they? That's convenient. The enemy so often are. So simple simple, so much easier than trying to understand them '

'They are not like us,' said the woman. 'They are. . . hideous to look upon.'

'Are they? How many of you have seen an Aztale?' The Doctor raised his eyebrows, expecting a response that never came. 'Come on, one of you must have. Surely? No?'

The Gabaks did not reply.

'You've been at war so long you've forgotten why why!'

72.'We are fighting them,' repeated the old woman, 'because they are evil.'

'And I'm sure they eat their boiled eggs the wrong way up too.' The Doctor jogged back up the steps to Charlton and Trix.

The old woman lifted a quivering finger. 'He is. . . a dissenter!'

The other Gabaks fixed the Doctor with their inhuman, unblinking eyes. 'He is a dissenter. He must be eradicated.'

'Eradicate!' another shouted, and another. 'Eradicate! Eradicate!'

'Good grief, how embarra.s.sing,' muttered the Doctor.

The bulkhead door lifted with a grinding screech to reveal three robots, each with two headlights fixed upon either side of its head, each balanced upon eight long legs.

'Ah.' The Doctor smiled at the robots as though greeting a maiden aunt.

'You're here to take us to your leader.'

'Come on,' urged Fitz, craning his neck. Above him, on the ladder, Tadek reached the grille. It creaked and groaned as he shoved it. Splinters of light grew, picking out falling rust.

Tadek's breathing became short. He heaved again.

Fitz looked down to avoid getting dust in his eyes. It collected in his hair and in the back of his collar. Looking down the shaft, into the steam, he could see a grey circle. The circle flashed and two headlights appeared through the mist.

An Octobot. Fitz watched as it scrambled up the shaft after them, its body jerking as it climbed, its legs jammed against the walls.

'Come on!' yelled Fitz. Tadek gasped and the grille swung open, and daylight splashed into the shaft. Blinded, Fitz dragged himself up the ladder.

Reaching the top, he toppled out, scrabbling over a low wall and collapsing into something wet. 'Close the hatch! Close it!' he gasped, and he heard, to his relief, the grille being sc.r.a.ped back into place.

With a dozen blinks, Fitz's eyes adjusted. He was lying on his back, and a clear sky was spread above him. Birdsong, he could hear birdsong. He could smell heather. Somewhere water splished. The wind stroked his cheek and ruffled his hair, before s.h.i.+fting to the trees, where the leaves shushed.

He had been right. He had been b.l.o.o.d.y right! Fitz felt like laughing. He rolled on to his side. The vent they had emerged from lay within the ruins of a building. Moss had smothered the brickwork, gra.s.s tufting through the cracks. Beyond lay the rubble of a city.

Tadek stared at the trees. 'I do not understand.'

Fitz pulled himself to his feet. The wet gra.s.s soaked through the sock on his left foot. 'The planet got better! There's no radiation. So why you lurk downstairs like little scaredy rabbits, I don't know.'

73.'We live. . . in darkness and fear. . . when above. . . '

Fitz spotted a brook and half jogged, half hopped over to it. He clasped his hands and brought some water to his lips. It was as chilly as ice. He splashed his face and his hair. 'Come on. You've found sanctuary, and Jenny Agutter didn't even have to get her kit off!'

'We have. . . been lied to,' said Tadek. 'I understand now. I understand why the gallery had been rigged to explode '

'What?'

'It was not destroyed by an Aztale attack if it had, all the levels above it would have been destroyed too. No, it was. . . the work of our own leaders.'

'You are dissenters. You must be eradicated!' snapped the Gabak with the bandage across his eyes. His hand jabbed at his joystick and his wheelchair jerked forward.

The control bunker had not surprised Charlton. Protected by a series of bulkhead doors, it consisted of a room crammed with television screens and control banks. Computers spooled tape and illuminated b.u.t.tons flashed in sequence, though what that signified Charlton had no idea. Gas lamps offered miserly illumination.

The four Gabak leaders were all slumped in wheelchairs, their legs pinned with callipers. They glided around the grubby floor as they ranted, playing follow-my-leader or rotating on the spot.

'Yes, yes, I suppose so,' said the Doctor. He peered down at Galvakis's chair, and noticed a lethal-looking gun barrel that extended from the armrest. 'First, though, we have news. . . ' He nodded to prompt Charlton.

Charlton stepped forward. 'According to my Tomorrow Window. . . you're going to be killed in about an hour. And a bit.'

'Which is rather surprising,' the Doctor said, folding his arms, 'considering that you're not actually at war.'

'What?' Galvakis shuddered forward. His drooping lips curled into an accusation. 'What do you know?'

'Oh, come now, it's obvious.' The Doctor strode around the room, examining the various screens with detached amus.e.m.e.nt. 'The gallery destroyed in an Aztale air raid? Charlton, how many levels deep was it?'

'About a dozen '

'It was blown up by Aztale sympathisers,' snarled a Gabak. 'Terrorists. Enemy agents.'

'You're changing your story?' The Doctor whirled around. 'And that's the other thing. I'm not really one to point out discrepancies, but the continuity in your news broadcasts is appalling appalling. One minute you're attacking Terranaton, the next you're defending it. Which is doubly odd, because Terranaton doesn't 74 exist! There are only two cities on this world, the rest were wiped out centuries ago. It's all "library footage"! You could at least have used a different clip for the Aztale army. . . budget difficulties, no doubt?'

The Gabak leaders did not answer, so the Doctor continued. 'Smoke and mirrors, special effects! You let off a bomb here, a bomb there. A few loud loud bangs bangs, send your people cowering down into their shelters. The Aztales aren't attacking you, you're pretending you're at war. . . when you're at peace!'

Trix had wandered over to one of the screens. It showed an image of a bearded man upon a throne, radiating light.

'One last thing,' said the Doctor. 'The most awful thing of all. The radiation.

There isn't any. However, to maintain the illusion of hards.h.i.+p. . . you operate upon your people, giving them artificial limbs, iron lungs, voice boxes. . .

when there is nothing wrong with them!'

Charlton felt sick. He looked at the withered creatures in their chairs and gulped.

'We are at war,' buzzed Galvakis, his chair jerking forward once more, forcing the Doctor to back away. This close, Charlton could see that the creature's skin was like melted wax coated in talc.u.m powder. 'We are at war with the Aztales. They must be eradicated! They are the inferior beings! Eradicate!

Eradicate!'

The Doctor sighed. 'So show me one.'

Fitz tramped through the forest, Tadek following. The ruins rambled on for mile after mile. Ivy twisted itself through the hulks of abandoned vehicles.

'So peaceful,' said Fitz, teasing his way through the bracken. 'We'll have to go back, though, I'm afraid.'

'Yes, we must. . . tell them,' said Tadek. 'That this world is now safe '

Fitz shushed him. He could hear something in the distance. Someone was talking. The words were buried in echo, but it was a man's voice.

'Quick,' urged Fitz, ducking through the ruins, the bushes snagging at his jeans. 'Behind here.'

Tadek joined Fitz behind a rubble wall. Fitz waved to him to keep his head down. The voice drew nearer.

'. . . Valuensis. As you know, this part of the galaxy is situated on one of the major hypers.p.a.ce ring-ways, and undeveloped properties in this area are highly sought after. . . '

Fitz peered over the wall. He intended only to look for a moment, but what he saw made his jaw drop.

The voice came from a man in a sober suit with pinched features and a lopsided mouth. In denial of baldness, his remaining hair had been oiled against his scalp.

75.'You don't often see one come on the market in as pristine pristine condition as this,' condition as this,'

he continued, tapping his fingers on his clipboard. 'As you can see, it offers the cla.s.sic liquid-water-based environment, resplendent resplendent in carbon-based flora, though that is, of course, an optional fixture. . . ' in carbon-based flora, though that is, of course, an optional fixture. . . '

He addressed a small tour party that consisted of five or six of the oddest things that Fitz had ever seen. From the way they were being addressed it seemed the things were living beings, but not in any conventional sense.

'The atmosphere is a delightful delightful oxygen-nitrogen mix, ideal for most respiration or photosynthesis-based life. The surface gravity is a bracing eleven per second per second. . . ' oxygen-nitrogen mix, ideal for most respiration or photosynthesis-based life. The surface gravity is a bracing eleven per second per second. . . '

The first one was a mammal. Short, about the same size as a child of eight or nine, its belly threatened to burst from the confines of its tweed jacket. It reminded Fitz of something from The Wind in the Willows The Wind in the Willows because it had the head, ridiculously, of a walrus. because it had the head, ridiculously, of a walrus.

Its tusks had cracked and turned yellow, and its beard had grey flecks possibly a sign of age, Fitz thought, which might also explain the monocle. Its long-whiskered nose sniffed at the air as though it were corked wine.

And yet it had human hands, one of which was dabbing its forehead with a handkerchief.

The clipboard man continued. 'As I'm sure you're aware, similar properties in this area tend to fetch around the twenty to thirty million ultra-pod mark, and I expect this property to be very much yielding within the upper bracket of that range. . . '

Behind the walrus loomed a reptile, about a foot taller than Fitz. It did not walk so much as lunge, pouncing at the gra.s.s before it with each step. It snorted and for a moment its bulging eyes turned on Fitz.

Given its thrusting horns and its cruel, dripping tongue, Fitz felt relieved when it turned away. As it did, the sunlight picked out a matchbox-sized device on the side of its head.

'The current. . .

tenants will be vacating the planet forthwithly.

The new owners will, very much so, have the opportunity for renovation, terra-reformation, magnetic repolarisation and atmospheric restratification. . . '

Two bronzed men in togas and armour followed the lizard, their muscles glistening like lacquered mahogany. Their plumed, ornately moulded helmets and kilts made them look like camp parodies of Roman legionaries. They bore between them a gold-braided cus.h.i.+on, held at shoulder-height. Each of their visors had a cyclops eye in the centre.

'This world does, I'm afraid, have some underlying plate tectonics, so some restructuring of the foundations may be required. If you, however, are concerned about venting, this world has been surveyed for super volcanic ruptures. . . '

76.The final two members of the party did not walk. They floated, without any visible signs of effort.

The first appeared to be a sculpture about two feet tall. Its cylindrical shape and pointed peak made it resemble a rocket from a fifties comic. Its metal top and base shone sleekly, while its midriff displayed some green blobs within, floating up and down, wobbling and squis.h.i.+ng.

'The system, as you read in the brochure, otherwise consists of worlds in either the ice or steam belts. However, if you're planning an extension, there is, of course, always the option of orbital realignment. . . '

The last of the creatures was, despite the strong compet.i.tion, the strangest.

Two football-sized growths of thick fur whirled around each other in mid air.

Fitz thought the b.a.l.l.s might be two creatures fighting, but from the way the clipboard man addressed them, they seemed to comprise one ent.i.ty.

Fitz jogged along the wall, following the tour party. The man with the clipboard said, out of the blue, 'Now, which of you was asking me about the Van Allen belts?'

'So that's an Aztale, is it?'

Charlton had been ready to recoil in horror at the image on the television screen. Instead, the static cleared to reveal a man with a pallid complexion.

The Doctor sucked his teeth. 'I don't know if you've noticed, but they are exactly exactly the same as you ' the same as you '

'They are not!' shrieked one of the Gabaks. It revolved on the spot. 'They are inferior creatures. They are horribly disfigured, mutated. Impure.'

'You are either blind, or very stupid or, in all probability, both,' said the Doctor. 'In what way are they inferior?'

'They are Aztales!'

'Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous.' The Doctor ruffled his hair and seated himself on the edge of the desk. 'Petty, small-minded. . . I'll never understand why people are so keen to seek out differences among themselves.'

'I still don't get it, though,' said Trix. 'Why pretend to be at war, when you're not?'

'It's the perfect excuse, isn't it? To terrorise their own people '