Doctor Who_ The Tomorrow Windows Part 31

Prubert takes it and scrawls his signature. 'There you. . . go.'

Good grief. Now Charlton's got a camera out. 'If you could. . . '

The Doctor leaps across to sit beside Prubert. I smile as Charlton lines up the camera. About a minute later, when my smile has become a grimace, he takes the photo. 'And one more thing,' says Charlton.

'Yes?'

'You don't think you could, just once, for me. . . '

'You want me to say the line?'

Charlton nods. 'If you don't want to that's fine, but '

Prubert clears his throat and inhales, his chest rising. Then, for a moment, we are back in the world of Zap Daniel Zap Daniel, as he bellows, to the fullest extent of his voice, 'What do you mean, Daniel's not dead not dead?'

The Doctor applauds, grinning like an idiot. Then he remembers why we are here. He stands.

'Prubert Gastridge,' he announces, 'We're here to talk to you about something else. About. . . Shardybarn and Valuensis. . . '

Prubert lifts his overgrown eyebrows as though begging forgiveness. 'I knew you'd come,' he says. His eyes glisten with tears. 'I'm sorry. I'm so terribly, terribly sorry.'

'We need you to tell us everything,' says the Doctor.

'I was in a bad way. I didn't know what I was doing! It wasn't my idea.'

Prubert holds his head in his hands. 'You must believe me!'

The Doctor gazes down at him pityingly. 'Tell us.'

'In a way, I'm glad.' Prubert wipes his face on his sleeve. 'You don't know what it's been like, living with it. Knowing Knowing.'

'Knowing what, Prubert?'

'I didn't realise, not to begin with. . . ' He rubs the corners of his eyes. 'Are they still there? Shardybarn? Valuensis?'

The Doctor shakes his head.

'It was just another role. . . ' Prubert hauls himself out of his seat. 'I'll tell you anything you want. It seems my past has caught up with '

A jangling screech interrupts him. I swap an alarmed glance with Charlton.

The bell continues. I have to shout to be heard. 'What's happening?'

'Security alarm.' The Doctor pulls open the door, and peers into the pa.s.sageway. The coast is clear, so we all follow him out. Seconds later, two nurses shove past us.

The alarm is even louder here. 'Where are we going?'

The Doctor hesitates, not sure which way to run. He raises his hand, instructing us to wait. Someone is coming.

164.

It's the old woman with the walking frame. Hectrin.

Another figure slides into view behind her. It's a s.h.i.+mmering force in black and white with a white, skull-like face and a pallbearer's suit. It floats towards us surrounded by a hail of static.

A Ceccec.

The Doctor backs towards us. I watch in horror as the Ceccec looms over the old woman. She knows it's behind her, she's staggering as fast as she can, but she can barely manage walking pace.

There is a fizzling snap, and the old woman's body becomes a serrated blur.

She flickers and a crackling line scrolls up and down her body. She collapses on to her knees, throwing aside her frame. For a moment I think she's alive, as she's put out her hands to break her fall, but then she slumps, dead, her body steaming.

The Ceccec glides over the electrocuted corpse. It casts no shadow, so it's impossible to guess its distance, but it's getting bigger, so it's getting nearer.

The Doctor shouts, 'We have to get back to the docking bay, Trix! Before these things kill everyone in sight.'

Another sliding door separates and we're back in the arrivals lounge. Prubert is the first through the doors, showing a surprising turn of speed. Charlton follows, then halts. As I see what he's seeing, I halt too.

The Ceccecs are already here, hovering over a mist of static. They lift their arms in welcome as they drift over the smashed cherubs and Davids and the bodies of their victims.

Some still remain in their chairs, slumped forward. Others are piled on the floor. There are wispy-haired patients, and receptionists, and medics and cleaners. Steam hisses from the bodies.

The Doctor guides me towards the shuttle bay. There is no time to wait, no time to absorb the shock. We have to move.

The Ceccecs are in no hurry. One glides over to the reception desk. The receptionist's computer bursts into flame. The Ceccec does not seem concerned as the fire catches, slithering up the walls.

We're through the door. Another couple of corridors, and we'll be back in the shuttle.

Fitz needed some night air. He walked through the gardens, past the spotlit sculptures, past the fountains. The air was fragrant and crickets chirruped.

Or, thought Fitz, they were playing the crickets chirruping tape.

OK, so, list of suspects. There was Vors.h.a.gg. Vors.h.a.gg could easily be the murderer. In fact, it would probably like nothing better than to have killed the 165 lot of them. And it had a motive it was the least well-off of the delegates, it would benefit from putting the compet.i.tion out of action.

The Fabulous Micron? Fitz wasn't sure about him. The two attendants were receiving instructions, but were they from the Micron? Maybe there wasn't a Micron at all, and they were taking orders from somebody else?

Fitz walked up the ammonite-sh.e.l.l steps to the hotel. Welwyn Borr. Although not part- Fitz suddenly found himself caught in a flurry of silk. Something rammed him in the back of the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. He landed sharply in the gravel.

Someone was panting in his ear, and he had hair in his face.

Something crashed to the ground by Fitz's feet.

Gasping, Fitz pulled himself upright. One of the statues from the hotel rooftop lay in pieces a few yards away. Fitz stared at it. If he'd not been thrown on to his back, it would've flattened him. He would be dead.

The pile of velvet and silk by his side groaned and sat up. 'Are you all right?'

Fitz nodded and helped him to his feet 'You. . . you saved my life.'

'I saw the statue, I. . . 'Welwyn was trembling. 'Didn't realise I had it in me!'

Fitz looked at him suspiciously. Yes, Welwyn had saved his life or had he just set it up to look like that? It always happened in the books, the villain pretends to save the detective from certain death.

Or had someone else pushed the statue? It could've been any of the delegates. Vors.h.a.gg could've done it, it didn't const.i.tute physical violence. Micron could've ordered his attendants to do it, Poozle could have instructed a Zwee. . . Welwyn could've have instructed a Zwee.

'I've never saved anyone's life before,' said Welwyn. 'If only my camera Zwee had been here. . . '

Fitz glanced up at the roof of the hotel. Squinting, he spotted the gap in the row of statues. There was n.o.body there. 'Did you see who it was?'

Welwyn shook his head.

'What were you doing out here?' Fitz asked. 'Were you following me?'

'No,' said Welwyn. 'I mean. . . yes.'

'Why?'

'I thought you might have decided, what you wanted doing to Estebol.'

'Sold it, I'm afraid.' Fitz shoved open the hotel door and went into the lobby.

Whatever was going on, one thing was clear. They were out to get him, which meant he must be getting close.

Fitz was shaken, but not stirred.

His lungs bursting, Charlton staggered down the floral-patterned corridor and into the shuttle airlock. The Doctor held out a hand to help Prubert and Trix 166 inside.

There was a bleep-bleeping as the Doctor attacked the airlock keypad. Before entering the airlock, Trix hesitated, looking back.

A medic appeared at the end of the corridor. She had panic in her eyes.

Behind her, floating with a melancholic, unhurried grace, was a Ceccec. It raised its hands.

The Doctor finished with the keypad and reached for Trix. 'Come on!' he shouted. 'Get inside.'

Trix glared back him. 'We can't leave them!'

'If we stay they're all dead,' the Doctor shouted over the alarm. 'If we go they may have a slim chance.'

'That's running away!'

'No,' the Doctor said. 'Not if we take the bad guys with us.'

There was the hiss of hydraulics. Trix took the Doctor's hand, and he heaved her into the airlock and into his arms.

The doors slid shut, silencing the alarm. The airlock doors were made of gla.s.s, so Charlton could still see the nurse. And she could still see them.

There was a flash, and she staggered forward clutching her stomach, smoke pumping from her sleeves and collar.

Charlton reached into his pocket, and felt the familiar curve of the tele-door handle. Keeping a grip on the handle, he followed the Doctor, Trix and Prubert into the shuttle c.o.c.kpit.

The Doctor leapt into the pilot's chair and surveyed the rows of dials and switches. A moment later, his hands darted over the controls, pressing b.u.t.tons and adjusting switches. Indicator lights clicked into life.

Trix took the co-pilot seat. 'Where are we going?'

The Doctor opened an overhead compartment and reset a row of toggles.

The shuttle's engines sputtered and growled. 'As far away as possible.'

'And then?' asked Prubert.

'And then,' the Doctor wrapped his hands around the control joystick, 'hopefully Charlton will use his tele-door to get us out of here.'

Charlton retrieved the handle from his pocket. 'Why didn't we use it before?' said Trix.

'If, as I believe, the Ceccecs are after us, we have to draw them away from the Centre for Posterity. . . '

The Doctor squeezed the throttle, and Charlton reeled against the wall at the back of the c.o.c.kpit as the shuttle rotated. Through the windscreen the grey, pipe-covered walls of the base dropped from view. The s.h.i.+p tilted to one side, and a riot of whizzing colour filled the windows.

Charlton clutched a wall-handle as the shuttle's engines rose to an ear-splitting whine. The Doctor remained calm, tapping dials, unconcerned by 167 the leaf stem that filled the windscreen in terrifying detail. Charlton guessed it was only a few metres away. And swinging closer.

'A spiral ascent,' muttered the Doctor to himself 'Should be the safest way out. Trix, everyone, strap yourselves in. This might be b.u.mpy. I haven't driven one of these before.'

'You've never driven one of these before?'

'Look on the bright side, Charlton! I've never crashed one before, either!'

Outside, the stem span away in a blur as the shuttle banked to the right.

Charlton felt they were falling. Looking out of the side window, Charlton could see where the shuttle's shadow bobbed over the waves.

And there was the Centre for Posterity. It was surprisingly small, making Charlton realise how far and how rapidly they had ascended There was whiteness.

and the centre had gone, replaced by a billowing fireball. The fireball surged upwards, scorching away the foliage around it, turning the leaves to ash.

The shockwave hit. The shuttle shuddered and Charlton felt several clangs beneath his feet. For an instant they were weightless and falling.

The view outside dropped away to reveal the undersides of petals and leaves and the spinning starlit blackness of s.p.a.ce.

Charlton felt the wall press into his back. The shuttle accelerated, hard. His cheeks dragged themselves back to his ears and he felt as though he was at the bottom of a long, dark shaft.

The petals and flowers and tendrils and leaves whooshed by.

The Doctor cut the engines and the universe relaxed. Outside, the stars drifted by in a whirl, then came to a halt. Charlton felt no pressure against his back. No weight at all.

The Doctor swung the joystick to the left, rotating the craft until they were looking back at the astral flower.

It was dying. Its leaves shrivelled away to ash, the buds bursting and becoming smoking husks. Fire slithered across its surface, gorging itself and dancing in glee. Thick, ugly smoke poured out of the fractures in its crust.