Doctor Who_ Happiness Patrol Part 13

'But I think I know where I can find her,' said the Doctor, completing his sentence. Almost before he had finished speaking he was striding down the street with Earl hurrying after him. Within a few minutes they were hurrying across the Forum square, dwarfed by the imposing facade of the Forum itself. The Doctor, pursued by Earl, headed for the stage door tucked in the corner of the square. He had a few more questions for the taciturn doorman.

Ernest P was asleep when they arrived and didn't take kindly to being woken by the Doctor's rapping on the small gla.s.s window. He looked more grouchy than usual by the time he emerged.

The Doctor didn't have time for pleasantries. 'When's the show?' he asked.

'In five minutes,' grunted Ernest P, who hoped they would go away so he could go back to sleep. 'You'll catch it if you're quick.'

Earl was surprised. 'Five minutes?' he said incredulously. 'So why are the posters going up now?'

'Why not?' said Ernest P, retreating into his booth.

'They're just for show. We always have a full house because attendance is compulsory.'

'You mean you've got a captive audience,' said the Doctor grimly. He looked across the square and saw that a crowd had gathered near the main entrance of the Forum.

They were being shepherded by the Happiness Patrol into an orderly queue. The Doctor saw that the guard in charge of the operation was none other than PriseIla P from the waiting zone. The Doctor pulled Earl into the safety of the shadows next to the stage door.

The crowd was the audience for the late show. Priscilla P was vetting them as they entered the building, just checking that they were really happy, that they really had a sunny outlook on the world, and that n.o.body was putting on a show for the benefit of the Happiness Patrol.

She stopped a middle-aged couple as they were going through the door. 'What's the definition of a polygon?' she asked them. The man and the woman looked blank. 'A dead parrot,' said Priscilla P, without a trace of humour.

But this was obviously the funniest joke the couple had ever heard. They shrieked with laughter, and tears of merriment rolled down their cheeks. Priscilla P was pleased with this response. 'They're OK,' she said to the Happiness Patrol guard, who ushered them inside.

The next couple were young and, although smiling, looked pale and unhealthy. Priscilla P took an instant dislike to them. 'What's the definition of a parrot?' she asked, a mean look in her eye. The couple didn't reply.

They just kept smiling. Priscilla moved towards them. 'A plane figure contained by more than four sides,' she intoned, and waited for their reaction. At first they didn't move, baffled by her words. But then the man began laughing, a wheezy laugh, rusty from lack of use. After a moment the woman joined in, laughing a high-pitched, eerie laugh. Priscilla P did not join in. 'It's not funny,' she said. 'You're faking.' She snapped her fingers. 'Take them away,' she ordered. Two guards moved in, grabbed the couple roughy and dragged them to a nearby van. Later, they would he taken to a remote part of the planet where they would become drones and put to work in the sugar factories.

The Doctor had seen enough of this. He turned to Earl, crouching next to him in the alcove. 'Go back to the demonstrators and bring them to the Forum,' he whispered.

'What if they don't want to come?'

'You'll find a way,' said the Doctor encouragingly. 'I'll meet you here.'

Keeping low, Earl sprinted across the square and disappeared down a narrow alleyway. The Doctor waited until the people in the queue had either gone into the Forum or been taken away in the van and the Happiness Patrol had dispersed. Then he went back to the stage door booth and rapped on the gla.s.s again. Ernest P dragged himself over to the window.

'I need to know if one of tonight's artistes is in the Forum yet,' demanded the Doctor.

'I'll just have a look at my list,' said Ernest P grudgingly.

'She's called Ace.'

Ernest P shuffled the papers on his table unenthusiastically. 'I can't do anything until I find my list, now, can I? I put it down here somewhere.'

The Doctor pulled his hat down over his eyes and squeezed to one side as three Happiness Patrol guards came down the pa.s.sageway from the inside of the theatre.

Two of them were dragging a body bag. The third carried a pot of paint. The Doctor watched as the procession went out through the stage door and came to a halt in front of a line of posters on the wall, most of which had been obliterated by pink paint. As two of the guards heaved the body bag into a waiting skip, the third splashed pink paint over one of the posters, a photograph of a young girl. When she had finished painting she pulled a thick, black crayon from a pocket in her tunic and scrawled RIP in large letters across the poster.

'Oh dear,' said Ernest P, who had found his list and was now watching the scene. 'Doesn't look as if Daphne S went down too well, does it?'

The Doctor didn't reply. He was staring at the poster at the end of the line, the only one which had not been defaced with the letters RIP. It was the poster of Ace and Susan Q. Ernest consulted his clipboard. 'Ace Sigma, wasn't it?' he said.

'That's right.'

He ran his pencil down the list. 'What does she do then, this Ace Sigma?'

'Do?'

Ernest P ran through the litany of possibilities. 'Sing, dance, juggle, magic, vent or impressions?'

The Doctor remembered Ace's remarkable facility with a can of nitro-nine. 'She makes things disappear,' he ventured.

'Magic,' said Ernest P, going back to his list.

'There's nothing magical about the way she does it,' said the Doctor, to no one in particular.

Ernest P was shaking his head in an exaggerated manner. 'Nothing down here under magic,' he said, with obvious pleasure. 'But I can do you an Ace Sigma on a miracle survival act.'

'What's that?' asked the Doctor. But he stopped Ernest before he could reply. 'No,' he said, 'let me guess. It will he a miracle if she survives.'

The Doctor's fears, however, were slightly premature. Ace and Susan Q, although they were approaching the Forum escorted by Daisy K and a Happiness Patrol unit, had not yet arrived, and they were already planning their survival.

Susan Q was walking next to Ace, close enough to whisper to her without being overheard by Daisy K. 'As long as you're looking cute, you have a chance.'

'Cute!' sad Ace, loudly enough to earn her a prod in the back from one of the Happiness Patrol guards. She prided herself on getting this far in life without looking cute, and she wasn't planning to start now.

'Big smiles, girls!' It was Daisy K, sneering at them.

'Showtime soon!'

Susan Q whispered again to Ace. 'Don't give up. We might get through this alive.'

They pa.s.sed under an archaic speaker, decorated with baroque curls. It was spewing out an arrangement of an old pop song, the angular tune submerged under a sea of strings so that it lost all its original bite.

'I hate that music,' said Ace.

'You're not the only one,' winced Susan Q.

A single shot rang out and the music stopped as the speaker flew off the wall and landed in the street in front of them. 'A sniper!' barked Daisy K, as Ace and Susan cheered the marksmanship. 'Get down! Lucy O! Jane M!

Covering fire! The rest of you go for that sniper!'

The sniper attacking the Happiness Patrol unit was a drone that had stumbled across David S's gun after the Doctor had thrown it over the balcony. He knew he would eventually be overpowered, but he was looking for some revenge before the end.

The Happiness Patrol unit split into sections, according to the paragraph in the training manual headed: 'Ambush, from above'. Several dropped into shooting positions with overhead cover and delivered covering fire for those mounting the attack on the sniper's balcony. Daisy, unseen by everyone except Ace, crept away from the danger, looking for a safe hiding place.

Ace and Susan Q, crouching by the wall, suddenly discovered they were no longer guarded. Ace turned to Susan. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

'People get killed thinking like that.'

Ace snorted. 'People get killed anyway,' she said.

They waited for a few moments, until they were sure no one was watching. 'Now!' said Ace, and they ran up a narrow alley, away from the street. The sniper was still firing down on the Happiness Patrol, and their escape went unnoticed in the confusion.

Ace saw a dark, dingy doorway ahead. They could hide in there for a moment and work out the best plan of action.

'In here,' Ace shouted to Susan Q, a few paces behind her.

They darted in and collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily. But they weren't alone in the doorway. Daisy K had chosen it as her hiding place. She smiled and raised her fun gun. Ace and Susan Q slowly put their hands on their heads.

Ace hated Daisy K for her cowardice. 'Face-ache,' she said with contempt. But Daisy just kept smiling. She was the one with the gun.

The sniper had died in a volley of Happiness Patrol bullets. He had been left hanging over the balcony as a warning to others, and Ace tried not to look at him as the unit rea.s.sembled. It did not seem to affect Susan in the same way, and she was already working on their best chance of survival. Ace a.s.sumed that living on Terra Alpha had hardened Susan Q against the sights and sounds of this vicious regime.

'Remember,' whispered Susan Q urgently, 'flutter your eyelashes, and lots of teeth in your smile.'

But Ace was angry. 'I'd rather lob something at them.'

'And remember to use your dimples,' continued Susan, undeterred.

'I'd use more than my dimples,' growled Ace.

'Quiet!' harked Daisy K, as she brought the b.u.t.t of her fun gun sharply down on the back of Ace's head.

12.

The drones were approaching Forum Square. They were all dressed in black, and most of them wore bowler hats, with black veils covering their faces. They marched in time to a slow drumbeat. Earl was at the head of the procession, playing his harmonica, weaving a bluesy dirge around the constant beat of the drums.

Helen A watched this scene on the television monitor in her suite, occasionally looking down to stroke Fifi, sitting in her lap. After careful consideration Fifi had decided not to attack the Pipe People, and had used her remaining strength to crawl out of a manhole next to the palace doors, where she had collapsed. Helen A had found Fifi and taken her to the best doctors on Terra Alpha, where she had been given the sort of medical care only the richest Alphans could ever hope for. To the great delight of Helen A, Fifi had recovered. Her pet was heavily bandaged, but she had just heard from the doctors that the bandages were ready to come off. The news, however, had been spoilt for her by the sight of the drones' miserable procession.

'Look at them, Fifi,' she said, as she unfastened the safety pin on one of the largest bandages. 'Dreary clothes, turgid music and terrible deportment. They're just so depressing.' She felt her spirits sinking and knew she couldn't watch any longer. She flicked a switch on a remote control unit and the picture disappeared. She twisted a microphone towards her and composed herself before she spoke.

'Happiness will prevail,' she announced into the microphone. 'Happiness Patrol section B, prepare to effect a large scale disappearance. A drone demonstration is moving towards Forum Square. Proceed there directly.

Take no prisoners. Summary executions for all drones, including the Sigma musician.'

She picked up the remote control unit and pointed it at the television set. She selected a new channel and the room was filled with the sound of canned laughter. Helen A squealed with delight as she watched the programme, an old situation comedy imported from Earth. A man with no trousers was being chased round a sofa by a middle-aged woman, when the sitting-room door opened to reveal the vicar.

'That's better, isn't it, my darling?' said Helen A, gathering up Fifi in her arms.

She could hear alarms going off in the building and the familiar sounds of pounding feet as section B of the Happiness Patrol mustered to destroy the drones. 'I can already feel my spirits lifting,' said Helen A.

The show was just finishing as Helen A removed the last of Fifi's bandages, rolling them round her hand as they came off. 'And the last one,' she said, as she gently peeled away the one remaining strip of linen. She was pleased with what she saw. Fifi was looking as fit and sleek as she had ever seen her. She had lost some fur, but that would grow again. Fifi, too, was enjoying the newfound sense of freedom now that the constricting bandages had been removed. She stretched her muscles. The small spikes, normally concealed in the fur on the top of her head, sprung into an upright position. She curled her lip and snarled, long and low. She was ready for hunting again.

'There we are,' said Helen A, smoothing down the remaining fur, 'all mended.' She found that talking to Fifi came easily to her, much more easily than to Joseph C or any of her subordinates in the Happiness Patrol, most of whom she despised and certainly didn't trust. She looked into the eyes of the Stigorax.

'We're a team, Fifi, you and I. We look after each other.

And we will make this a happy planet, in spite of the bunglers and killjoys that surround us. If they're miserable, then we'll put them out of their misery. After all, it's for their own good.'

Helen A's eyes were bright with excitement. 'But first of all,' she said, 'a bit of harmless revenge. You take the vermin in the pipe. I'll take the vermin at the Forum.'

Fifi growled softly in antic.i.p.ation.

The Doctor had at last discovered from Ernest P that Ace and Susan Q had not yet been brought to the Forum for their turn in the late show. He knew that Earl would he bringing the drones here, so he had decided to sit on the main steps of the Forum and await developments. A large loudspeaker was attached to the facade of the Forum, and the Doctor was grateful for the regular news bulletins which kept him up to date about events.

The speaker crackled into life. 'This is a public happiness announcement,' said the voice of the anonymous newscaster. 'A depression is moving towards Forum Square. Stay clear of the area. The proper authorities will restore harmony. Happiness will prevail.'

The Doctor knew only too well that this message referred to the drones and the measures Helen A was taking to destroy them. But he had no intention of leaving.

He was curious to see what would happen now that the Happiness Patrol was arriving and of course, he had a plan.

He took a close look at the square while he waited. At the top of the steps, a few feet away from him, there was a free-standing microphone, presumably used by Helen A to address the public, which he was sure she did with monotonous regularity. But apart from that, it was a bare, empty sort of place. The Doctor could just about make out murals of grotesquely smiling creatures on the walls of the Forum and the surrounding buildings. But the paint had peeled and the colours faded. It reminded him of Earth specifically of Venice in the late twentieth century, before it slid slowly into the sea. And then the Doctor understood that here was a society in decay, playing out its last act.

This comforted him, and he resolved to do whatever he could to make that last act as quick and painless as possible.

His musings were interrupted by Trevor Sigma, who wandered into the square with a large roll of paper under his arm.

'h.e.l.lo, Trevor,' the Doctor greeted him. 'Come to see the fun? Or is that cla.s.sified information?'

But Trevor seemed more relaxed than before. 'No, Doctor,' he said. 'I'm leaving this planet.' He waved the roll of paper. 'I've completed my census.' He unrolled the end, pulled a pen from the inside of his jacket, and made a few brief notes.

'Where's the Galactic Census Bureau sending you next?'

asked the Doctor.

'Earth. Been there?'

'Once or twice,' said the Doctor wistfully.

'Miserable sort of place,' said Trevor.

The Doctor nodded his head in agreement. 'You're making me feel nostalgic,' he said.

He picked up the end of Trevor's roll of paper, and idly read what was written there. It seemed to be a list of names.

'Wait a minute,' he said, scanning the list eagerly. 'Silas P, Harold V. I know these names.' He remembered Harold V at the one-armed bandit, and the crack of the Happiness Patrol guns moments after he had left Silas sitting on the bench. Silas, although working for Helen A, was just as much a victim of her regime as Harold. He turned back to Trevor. 'You can't give these names to the bureau. They may have lived here once but...'

Trevor interrupted him. 'They've disappeared. I know.

Strange, isn't it? Don't ask me why, but that's what the bureau wants.'

'A list of the disappeared?'