Doctor Who_ Placebo Effect Part 19

The Queen, protected near the solar generator at the heart of the planet, also sent its message.

Absorption of this Doctor was to take immediate priority. It was time to attack the surface, to propagate and further the race existence.

But the Wirrrn were not combatants. They were not a race who walked into a battlefield, guns blasting pointlessly, as so many of the Wirrrn's foes did.

No, the Winrn used more intelligent, more subliminal means.

Mason unfurled his hand. In his palm were a series of tiny red and blue capsules. "They are perfected,' he said slowly.

The Swarm Leader sent an extra boost of independence back into Mason's neural circuits, returning a degree of apparent freedom that would make him capable of mixing with the aliens above.

'I will distribute the pills among some of the alien athletes. The rest will seek them out. Our work will have begun.'

Ignoring the other three scientists he used to work alongside, all of whom no longer resembled anything vaguely human, Mason began his trek back to the surface.

And the Swarm Leader sent his last new pupa to follow the others to the surface.

And if it had wanted to recall which one had once been Dev Jeol, it would have been impossible. Now it was just a Wirrrn.

For ever.

Kyle Dale was wandering away from the Stadium, having packed in his exercise for the day. His kit was in a bag floating beside him, and he was studying a small red book as he walked.

The Way Forward was embossed on the cover.

He was looking up the pa.s.sages on romance. And what the G.o.ddess said about his feelings.

Kyle had never been one for the girls really. Or the boys. Or anything. A bit of a loner back on his colony world, he had studied hard at school, and after a few years of being beaten up by the school bullies who saw him as overtly studious, he had decided to start building his body up. Getting involved in physical activities such as water-skiing, rock-climbing, gravity-well free-falling, those sorts of things. After a couple of years of that, he'd become involved with a soccer team and then moved over into the more independent world of athletics. With no team to be responsible to, or for, he was far happier succeeding or failing on his own terms.

When his father had died in a submersible accident on Kandalinga, Kyle had opted to travel.

He'd made friends with a couple on the cruiser and they'd disembarked together on Shem. There, one of the Simian travel agents had introduced him to the local night life and over the next few weeks, Kyle had been offered a variety of opportunities to experience, well, just about anything he could imagine - and few things he'd never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

But Kyle had been frightened by this - his inexperience coupled with an unwillingness to become experienced gradually tried the patience of his hosts and friends. In the end Kyle had joined up with a local team of long-distance runners who seemed far more interested in taking care of their bodies than the inner-city types had been.

He had met Reverend Lukas one afternoon when Jolyon and Phillipa had literally b.u.mped into Kyle during a rainstorm. Reverend Lukas said he could immediately sense that Kyle was directionless - needing some kind of pattern in his life.

He left The Way Forward for Kyle to read and, when he did so, he saw himself, his own personal struggles and questions and fears and...

Everything he believed he needed was there. No distractions, no pressure to eat, drink, take drugs, have s.e.x. Nothing but a dedication to his soul, to what the G.o.ddess told him was part of his nature. The Way Forward made him feel special, to realise that his nonconformity was not an aberration but a gift, a way to celebrate his differences.

And Reverend Lukas had coached him on the G.o.ddess's path, the methods and structures of his mobile caravan of gospel spreading. As they moved from world to world, they gained followers and - although Reverend Lukas never said anything cruel or spiteful about them - lost a few.

'They have their own paths, Kyle,' he would say. 'Some people are with us for ever. Some just need a little variation, a little enlightenment, and are then ready to face the universe on their own terms rather than everyone else's. One day, you too may decide to do that.'

'No,' Kyle had said. 'No, I will never leave you. I love the G.o.ddess, I believe in what the G.o.ddess offers us.'

And Reverend Lukas had put his hand on Kyle's shoulder and squeezed.

'You cannot know how pleased I am to know that, Kyle. Together, the Church will go forward and prepare the people of this galaxy for the return of the G.o.ddess, for she will come soon. Be sure of that.'

Five years on, Kyle still awaited the G.o.ddess's arrival, but with no less patience. It was possible that she would not come before Kyle's life had pa.s.sed, but no matter. The faith kept him strong, kept him alive. Faith in the G.o.ddess and faith in Reverend Lukas's convictions.

So why, right now, was he so... aware of this girl, Samantha Jones? Why did it bother him so much to think how she had run away from him earlier in the day?

And why was he looking for her, here, as if she was just going to be walking along the road? Or sitting there, waiting? The coincidence would have to be huge.

To see her laughing in his mind's eye made his heart beat faster. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

The Way Forward wasn't helping him - he wasn't concentrating.

Besides which, Samantha Jones was on the road ahead.

Following someone.

Surely that couldn't be her - she ought to be back in Canington City with her Doctor friend by now.

But it certainly looked like her. Walked like her.

He clenched his fists. Something inside him found her presence exciting.

Motivating.

He had to take a deep breath. This was silly.

And if it was that silly, why was he following her?

Ms Sox was not used to being kept waiting. The Doctor was late and she was still worried not only about the ease with which he seemed to have been able to talk to Commandant Ritchie and Green Fingers, but also Chase Carrington's bizarre att.i.tude earlier.

What was going on?

'Ms Sox?'

Ms Sox turned. The voice had been female, so she had a.s.sumed it would be the Doctor's fiery young woman friend from the Church fracas. Instead it was an SSS sergeant, aiming a gun at her.

Ms Sox tried to bring to mind her researches over the last few months since she had called the SSS in to divert people from her own security work.

'Quartermaster-Sergeant Susan Dallion isn't it? I thought you had gone AWOL?'

Dallion smiled. 'That was what we wanted everyone to think.'

Ms Sox laughed. 'Commandant Ritchie is no fool. He knew someone would be watching him. You should have been decommissioned after the deaths of your team. But he keeps you around, like a private army, right?'

'Maybe.'

Ms Sox stretched her arms out, to show she was not armed. 'He's a far better officer dian I expected. He's also using the Doctor. You to be his army, him to be his scientist. Our good Commandant knows far more about what is going on than I -indeed, we - thought.'

'You know the Doctor?' Dallion was still pointing her blaster at Ms Sox.

Ms Sox nodded. 'I'm tempted to trust him, Sergeant Dallion. I suspect you are too, or else you wouldn't have come in his place. Do you have somewhere we can all talk?'

Dallion paused, as if sizing up Ms Sox and the potential threat she might be. Then lowered her blaster.'Follow me.'

Ms Sox followed, smiling. This was getting better and better.

Torin Chalfont stood outside the entrance to the tunnels. Someone was following him, he felt sure of it, but they were very good at hiding.

Or he was getting paranoid. Still, according to all the reports he'd seen and read over the years, when someone tries to attack you, they come from behind. A second person behind him would be easier fodder for the big chomping monsters that probably lived in the tunnels.

He went into the darkness, surprised that the lights dotting the walls did not offer more illumination.

'Typical SSS, never do their jobs properly. One day I'll write an expose of their shoddiness and close 'em down.' He was talking out loud not just because he liked the sound of his own voice, but it did dispel a few of the fears... no, not fears but healthy antic.i.p.ation, he felt, going into an area where eight men had met their deaths.

Grisly deaths.

Torn apart by the Olympic Monster. Micawber's Beast.

'Oh, I can hear the headlines now - Torin Chalfont solves the Olympic riddle. Eight men die before our top prize-winning writer exposes the dreadful terrorist group responsible for trying to stop the Games.' Then he stopped and clapped his hands together. 'And better still, d.u.c.h.ess of Auckland's life saved by our man Chalfont. Candidate for next year's Honours? Sir Torin Chalfont. Lord Chalfont of -'

Something was slithering towards him.

While behind came a female voice.'Go on,' it said.'This is getting interesting. Lord Chalfont of where?'

Torin Chalfont didn't turn around to face whoever it was, however. Because he had made a slight miscalculation.

'Are you here to kill me?' he whispered.

'No,' said the girl behind.

'I wasn't talking to you,' he hissed back.

'Who then?' The girl adopted a whisper as well.

'That!' screamed Chalfont as a huge ma.s.s of browny-green mucus reared up in front of him, one huge yellow eye staring unblinkingly at him.

'Oh G.o.d,' breathed the girl, and Chalfont felt himself yanked backwards as she grabbed his collar - just in time, as the creature slammed its back down exactly where he had been standing.

He was then bundled into a cavern, the girl wrapping her hand around his mouth.

Chalfont tried to glance around. It was a small cavern, bits of abandoned equipment scattered all over. Behind them was a sheer drop, and a series of walkways going deeper into the bowels of Micawber's World, all unlit.

'Quiet; the girl hissed. He nodded.

They watched as the creature slithered past, followed by another, even longer... no, it was loads of small ones. Their bodies were astonishing. If they came to a lump in the floor, rather than go over or around it, their bodies split and rejoined as each segment encountered the lump.

The two humans jumped in surprise. Amid the ma.s.s of larvae-like creatures was a man. A human, dressed in white. Chalfont immediately recognised the uniform of the SSS science section. The man (Chalfont vaguely recognised him - could he be famous?) had his left arm in a rough sling, but apart from that he seemed oblivious to the things at his feet. Indeed, he seemed oblivious to everything except - The man stopped and stared briefly into the cavern. Chalfont hoped it was too dark to see either him or the girl who held him.

Chalfont couldn't say whether the scientist had seen them, but he didn't enter the chamber. He did smile, however. A smile that sent a very uncomfortable shiver down Chalfont's back. The smile of someone who knows something you don't...

The man restarted his slow march amid the larvae creatures and was quickly out of sight.

Across the way was an alcove, cut off from the tunnel by an SSS wire-mesh fence, a small sign saying KEEP our on it. One of the creatures turned against this mesh, its body turning into tiny globules of mucus, each one oozing through the grid and reforming on the other side. After a few moments of exploration, the creature again divided its body, emerged back into the tunnel and again became one before shuffling after its fellows.

After a few moments more, the girl released Chalfont's mouth and he gasped in air. Whoever she was, she was clearly more friendly than they had been, but he was still cautious.

'Who are you?'

'Sam Jones. Your hero. You're Torin Chalfont, right?'

'Yes. How did you -'

'Oh, where I come from, you're famous. I mean, everyone adores your work.'

Bless her little cotton socks. 'Why, thank you, Miss Jones.'

'Sam.'

'Sam. I never realised people thought highly of the little insignificant work I do. Just a public service, really.'

'Yeah, whatever.' Sam seemed suddenly distracted. 'Fact is, whatever those were, they were going to do us harm if we got in their way.'

'But you rescued us both: 'Nah,' said Sam. 'If they'd actually wanted to eat us or whatever, they'd have found us in here easily. And the guy in the white suit saw us easily enough. He stared right at me and smiled.'

'I noticed that.Why didn't he do anything? Do you think he was their prisoner? He thought we would rescue him?'

Sam shook her head. 'He wasn't in any danger. I imagine we simply weren't important enough for them to worry about.' She pushed past him and knelt down in the tunnel, looking at the floor.

She was a young woman, early twenties perhaps. Nice blonde hair hanging to her shoulders, a longish fringe parted in the middle. She was wearing a rather short dress which, he realised, staring closer, had been a lot longer until she had either ripped off the bottom, or hacked it away with a pair of blunt scissors.

She was also wearing a pair of dark shorts and Chalfont suddenly realised he'd seen her earlier - the dress tucked into the shorts. The maid from the hotel who that oaf Ethelredd had spoken to. Now, dress hanging out, he could see she looked more like some kind of street urchin, but as she turned back to face him, he realised he was looking at a young woman of formidable experience. She might be young, but her eyes indicated she'd been through enough trouble and danger to last a lifetime.

He immediately felt a new respect for her. He also knew that she would see through his normal bl.u.s.ter, his fake charm and high-society att.i.tudes. And if she could see through that, maybe it was time to put the old Torin Chalfont into gear. The journalist who had reported from the front line on the first Galaxy 5 war. Or the reporter who had kept sending his reports to the holovid crews on Blakkis Moon 3 when Blakkis itself was declared a plague zone and quarantined and he was tapped in the middle of it, hated by the locals because the plague had been brought to their previously isolated world by s.p.a.ce travellers. 'You aren't a fan of mine at all, are you, Sam?' he said quietly.

'Truth? Nah, never heard of you till today. But back at the d.u.c.h.ess's rooms, they seemed to think you're a bit of a bore and a joke, so I thought I'd better humour you.'

That hurt. Obviously, he knew what they thought of him, but having it said so bluntly by someone who wasn't even born (probably) when he decided to give up serious reporting for a cosy life with the toffs and wannabes of high society, that really hurt.

Trouble was, she was right and it seemed rather pointless arguing with her.

Instead he just said 'Oh well', and asked her what she was doing.

She was using a thin metal object of some sort to sc.r.a.pe some kind of hardening slime trail off the ground.