Doctor Who_ Deep Blue Part 17

'Greyhound One to...' the Brigadier began, confidently enough, then floundered. Good lord, what was Benton's call sign? Angrily he barked, 'Benton, are you there? Over.'

Benton's voice came back, the caution in it evident despite the tinny reception. 'Er... here, sir. Is everything all right?

Over.'

'No, Benton, it is not all right. The police operation is a shambles. I'm stopping off here to pick up the Doctor. I want this area evacuated and cordoned off, and I want to know where that d.a.m.ned creature's got to. Over.'

'Leave it to me, sir. I'll get on to it right away. Over and out.'

The Brigadier nodded in satisfaction and tossed the RT back on to the pa.s.senger seat. There was nothing like a bit of direct action to get the adrenaline going, focus the mind. He ignored the fact that he was still battling to concentrate on the matter in hand. His mind kept wandering, but the Brigadier was determined to keep on top of things even if it killed him.

He parked on the double yellows outside the hotel and marched up the steps into Reception. There was another crowd in the lobby, the air buzzing with speculation, strangers united by the need to share their experiences of that afternoon's astonishing events.

As soon as he spotted the skinny, copper-haired young man with the peculiar eyebrows, the Brigadier recognised him. Had it been yesterday or this morning when they had met? He pushed the thought aside, irritated by his inability to remember, and strode across. He was aware of the looks his uniformed presence was attracting, and deliberately focused on the young man (whose name - Turlough Turlough - popped suddenly into his mind). Turlough was sitting with his hands between his knees, looking nervous and uncomfortable, like a schoolboy summoned to his headmaster's study to explain some misdemeanour. Beside him, standing with her arms folded, was an attractive young woman in a brightly coloured summer dress, whom the Brigadier barely glanced at until she hailed him by name. - popped suddenly into his mind). Turlough was sitting with his hands between his knees, looking nervous and uncomfortable, like a schoolboy summoned to his headmaster's study to explain some misdemeanour. Beside him, standing with her arms folded, was an attractive young woman in a brightly coloured summer dress, whom the Brigadier barely glanced at until she hailed him by name.

He looked at her, startled. 'I'm sorry, miss, do I know you?'

The young woman looked nonplussed. 'Well, of course you do! I'm... no, hang on a minute. You haven't met me yet, have you? Tegan Jovanka,' she announced, holding out her hand.

'I'm sorry?'

'Tegan Jovanka. That's my name. I travel with the Doctor.'

'I see,' said the Brigadier. 'And where is is the Doctor?' the Doctor?'

'Down on the beach,' said Turlough.

'On the beach? I gave specific instructions -'

'The creature's gone,' Turlough interjected, his quiet voice cutting through the Brigadier's bl.u.s.ter. 'It had gone before we even heard about it.'

'We told the Doctor we'd wait here for you,' said Tegan, a little shame-faced. She glanced at Turlough as if for support.

'Neither of us much fancied going down on to the beach.'

'It's like a battlefield down there,' Turlough said by way of explanation. 'Bodies everywhere.'

'I see,' said the Brigadier, scratching absent-mindedly at his itchy arm before noticing the curious looks of the Doctor's two companions. 'And where is this creature now?'

Turlough shrugged.

'Maybe the Doctor's found out,' suggested Tegan helpfully.

'Hmm,' said the Brigadier. 'Ah well. That creature has got to be found before it does any more damage.'

Tegan hesitated, before announcing decisively, 'If you're going down to the beach I'll come with you.'

Turlough nodded, though he looked unenthusiastic. 'Me too.'

They left the hotel and crossed the road where the crowds were being dispersed by a combined force of UNIT troops and policemen. They weaved through the phalanx of ambulances, army trucks and police cars and headed towards the nearest set of steps down to the beach. The armed UNIT sentry whom Benton had stationed at the top of the steps exchanged nods with the Brigadier and the three of them descended on to what Turlough had termed the battlefield.

It was an apt description. Perhaps three-dozen bodies were strewn on the sand in spatters and trails of blood. So frenzied had the creature's attack been that the dead had had to be left to bake in the sun for the time being so that all efforts could be directed towards preserving the lives of the wounded. As the Brigadier led Tegan and Turlough across the battlefield, Turlough tried not to look too closely at the decimation around him and concentrated instead on the Brigadier's back. On the periphery of his vision soldiers, policemen and paramedics bustled about their business, trying to impose some kind of order on to the chaos.

As two ambulance men cut across their path, bearing a stretcher, the Brigadier stopped and barred their way with an outstretched arm. A young semi-conscious woman was groaning in pain, the bottom half of her face flecked with blood. Nearby, the burly sergeant whom Turlough recognised from that morning's meeting was issuing orders, directing operations. Standing at his shoulder was a glum-looking man with a pockmarked face, hands thrust into the trouser pockets of his baggy blue suit.

The sergeant saluted when he saw the Brigadier.

'What's the situation, Benton?' the Brigadier asked without preamble.

'It seems the creature came out of the caves at the far end of the beach, sir. Fourteen people are confirmed dead, twenty-five injured. Most of the injured have deep puncture-wounds. Eye-witnesses say the creature's got a dirty great sting in its tail, like a scorpion, which it kept jabbing in to people. The Doctor reckons it was injecting them with a more concentrated form of the stuff that we might have been infected by.'

Of course! The fish! The alien contamination! The Brigadier suddenly remembered with a jolt what the Doctor had told him that morning, and which had been eluding him all day.

For a moment his head swam; he imagined strange poisons working their way through his system, clouding his mind.

With an effort he pulled himself together and asked, 'Where's the Doctor now? And more importantly, where's this d.a.m.n creature?'

'Well, there's the Doctor,' Tegan said.

The Brigadier followed her pointing finger. The Doctor was crouched by the sh.o.r.eline as if deeply engrossed in something he had found washed up on the beach. The tails of his cream coat trailed in the sand. His white hat with its red band was jammed on top of his head.

'What's he doing?' the Brigadier said, irritated. 'Collecting seash.e.l.ls?'

Benton shrugged with the air of one who had long ago stopped trying to work out the Doctor's motives for anything.

'He said he was just going to take a look around, sir.'

The Brigadier pursed his lips in disapproval, his moustache bristling. 'Right,' he muttered. 'And the creature?'

'It was last seen heading towards the fairground, sir. I've sent some of the lads after it. I've given them orders to report back if they find it, and to keep it under observation. The Doctor did ask us to avoid harming it if we could.'

The man in the baggy blue suit spoke at last: 'Some of my boys should already be down there, clearing the area. They've got orders to keep away from the thing itself, though. I'm leaving this one up to you lot.'

'And you you are?' said the Brigadier. are?' said the Brigadier.

'Detective Inspector Pickard. I'm officially in charge of the investigation into the ma.s.sacre on the Papillon Papillon - though now it looks as if one of these creatures was responsible for that.' - though now it looks as if one of these creatures was responsible for that.'

He looked rueful. 'What are are these things, anyway? Monsters from outer s.p.a.ce?' these things, anyway? Monsters from outer s.p.a.ce?'

'Yes,' Turlough said. 'They're called Xaranti.'

Once again the word seemed to echo like a long-forgotten memory in the Brigadier's head. He looked again at the Doctor, who was straightening up now, and absently began to scratch his chest. When he realised what he was doing, he immediately tried to make it look as though he was brushing imaginary dirt from the lapel of his uniform. To cover up his awkwardness he said to Pickard, 'Can I leave the clearing-up operation in your hands now, Inspector? I'll leave some of my men behind to help, of course, but the rest of us really ought to try and stop this creature causing any more mayhem.'

Pickard nodded, trying not to look as if he was out of his depth. 'You can leave it to me. I'll keep everything running smoothly here, don't you worry.'

'Good man,' said the Brigadier absently and turned to Benton. 'Any idea where Captain Yates has got to, Benton?'

'He's on his way, sir. I spoke to him a few minutes ago.'

'Right, well bring him up to speed, would you, and tell him to meet us at the fairground. And warn him to be careful.'

'Yes, sir,' said Benton, already raising the RT to his mouth to relay the message.

The Doctor had seen them now and hurried up the beach, his lolloping stride deceptively swift. 'Here at last, are you, Brigadier?' he said briskly. 'We've been waiting for you. How are you feeling?'

'Never better,' the Brigadier said quickly.

'Are you quite sure? You'll have to have your wits about you, you know. Even a lone Xaranti can be extremely dangerous.'

'Don't you worry, Doctor. I doubt it can cope with our firepower.'

The Doctor looked pained. 'We're not going to shoot it, Brigadier. We're going to communicate with it. Or at least I'm going to try.'

Surprised, Turlough said, 'Surely you've already tried that on the Xaranti ship? You just ended up confusing them.'

'That was different,' the Doctor said. 'I think what we're dealing with here is a recently transformed human. In which case it may be vulnerable, its thoughts not yet fully integrated into the communal Xaranti mind.'

'You mean it's not quite absorbed, so it may let something vital slip?' said Tegan.

The Doctor looked almost defensive, as if Tegan was questioning his judgement. 'Or I may be able to use it as a mental conduit to the queen, slip in via the back door, so to speak.' He shrugged. 'I'm not saying it'll work, but I think it's worth a try.'

'In that case, what are we waiting for?' said the Brigadier.

'Come on, Doctor, Turlough, Miss Jovanka, we'll use my car.

Benton, get two dozen of the men together and follow us down.'

They hurried back across the sands and up the steps to the promenade. As they crossed the road to the Lombard Hotel, the Doctor indicated the double yellows on which the Brigadier's car was parked and chided gently, 'Really, Brigadier, I'm shocked. You might have got a ticket.'

The Brigadier 'hmphed', though not without humour, and unlocked the driver's door. Once all his pa.s.sengers were inside, he glanced into his wing mirror and pulled out. The roads were almost clear now, the seafront having effectively been cleared and sealed off. The fairground was a two-minute drive away. From here it looked like a cl.u.s.ter of towers and minarets jabbing up into the summer sky around the curve of the bay, just beyond the harbour. Tegan, sitting in the back behind the pa.s.senger seat, noticed that the traffic lights were red and wondered why the Brigadier was not slowing down.

Then the ambulance cut across them like a white metal wall and a number of events happened in quick succession.

Tegan saw the Brigadier slumping over his wheel as if in a faint, eyes closed. There was noise: the screech of the ambulance's tyres and the blare of its horn, mingled with her own scream of 'Look out!' as the car shot through the lights and bore down on the vehicle. There was a blur of movement from the front seat of the car and suddenly, impossibly, the Doctor was in the driver's position, the Brigadier slumped semi-conscious and muttering in the pa.s.senger seat beside him. Tegan's yell as the Doctor twisted the steering wheel to the left was abruptly cut off as she was slammed against the door, the impact jarring her ribs and knocking the breath out of her. For a split-second the side of the ambulance filled their windscreen, then abruptly it was gone. The Doctor guided the car to the side of the road and cut the engine.

He turned to the Brigadier sitting beside him. 'Brigadier,'

he said urgently. 'Alistair, can you hear me?'

The Brigadier groaned, then his eyelids fluttered open. 'Eh, what? What's going on?'

'You pa.s.sed out, Brigadier,' the Doctor said, regarding him earnestly.

The Brigadier's eyes widened, the outrageousness of the suggestion far more effective than any amount of smelling salts. 'Pa.s.sed out! Don't be ridiculous. I have never heard such... such...' His voice tailed off and he looked around in confusion.

'How are you feeling, Alistair?' the Doctor asked gently.

'Feeling? Well, fine. I told you.'

The Doctor closed his eyes in brief, quiet exasperation. 'I need you to tell me the truth. This is important.'

The Brigadier looked at him for a moment, pride battling with honesty. Then his shoulders slumped a little and he sighed. 'Yes, well, I suppose I have been feeling a bit woozy,'

he mumbled. 'And I've got this... this rash.' He ran a hand across his chest, over his shoulder and down his arm to show the Doctor the extent of it.

'May I see?' asked the Doctor gently.

The Brigadier, clearly embarra.s.sed, said, 'Is it really necessary?'

'You know it is,' the Doctor said.

The Brigadier's sigh was deeper this time. Reluctantly he unb.u.t.toned the jacket of his uniform, loosened his tie and unb.u.t.toned his shirt.

The Doctor eased the shirt apart and his face tightened. At this the Brigadier looked down at himself. 'Good grief!' he said.

All across his chest, the black, tell-tale nubs of Xaranti quills were beginning to poke through his skin.

A UNIT jeep cruised to a stop beside them. As Benton jumped out of the pa.s.senger side, the Brigadier hastily reb.u.t.toned his shirt.

Benton poked his head through the open window beside the Brigadier. 'I thought you were all goners for a moment there,' he said. 'What happened? Is everyone OK?'

'Everyone's perfectly fine, thank you, Benton,' said the Brigadier brusquely.

'A slight miscalculation on my part, I'm afraid,' said the Doctor, giving Benton a meaningful look. 'I overshot the red light. Careless of me.'

'I see,' said Benton hesitantly. 'Well, if you're sure you're all right...'

'Never better,' snapped the Brigadier. 'Now, if there's nothing else, Benton, I suggest we go and tackle this creature before it dies of old age.'

'Yes, sir,' said Benton, jumping almost to attention in response to the Brigadier's tone.