Doctor Who_ Placebo Effect Part 21

Kyle looked at his feet again. 'No. But I'd like to.'

He didn't say anything else, so Sam let it drop. Something was worrying him.

He was OK really, she decided. Probably a year, maybe two younger than she was. His straw-coloured hair was brushed back and up, and his blue eyes seemed more watery than usual. She could just about make out the bruise on his cheek from where she had clobbered him in the churchyard.

But there was something that made him remarkable amid the already remarkable cl.u.s.ter of aliens she had seen on Micawber's World.

As she tried to put her finger on it, he suddenly reached out his hand and touched her cheek. Then he went bright red (or at least, in the gloom of the cavern, Sam guessed he went red - his skin darkened anyway) and whipped his hand back.

'You're very sweet,' she said. And then it hit her. Kyle possessed something she had never seen in a late teenager before. Innocence. A complete s.e.xual naivety she found suddenly attractive. She wanted to hug him, tell him that it was all right. But it also occurred to her that she was most likely the target for these new feelings. Hence the hand-on-cheek moment.

Poor sod - doesn't realise he's wasting his time. No way am I going to get involved with a screwed-up religious maniac who thinks that the dinosaurs are some great conspiracy theory.

No, that's unfair, Sam.You promised to keep an open mind. Give him a break.

Torin gasped, breaking Sam's concentration.

'What's up?'

Torin was hunched over,fighting for breath.'I... I don't know, he said quietly.

'Maybe it's these caves. I'm feeling a little bit claustrophobic.'

He shoved his right hand inside his jacket. 'I think I've left my pills at the hotel. Sorry.'

Sam was instantly sympathetic. She knew enough medicine from her dad to know how bad it could be for people with heart problems or breathing troubles if they didn't have their medication at the right moment. She forced him to sit down, and he let her lean him against a lump of rock.

He was still rummaging around inside his jacket, but Sam ignored that. She loosened his shirt collar and waved some air at him.

Kyle asked if there was anything he could do, and seizing an opportunity to keep both her charges busy - 'her charges'! G.o.d, was she playing the Doctor now? - she told Kyle to keep Torin cool.

As she wandered further into the ever-darkening tunnel ahead, she gave up hoping for natural light. She checked two or three others but no: they all seemed to go downward rather than upward. No escape that way then.

'Maybe we should go down,' muttered Torin.

'Why?'

'Because the solar generator is nearby, and maybe there are service shafts leading to that,' said Torin, wheezing badly now.

'You a bit of a tour guide on the sly, then?' asked Sam, raising an eyebrow.

I've done my research, Miss Jones.'

'Sam! For the last time, "Miss Jones" makes me sound like a bad sit-com character.' She paused. 'Research into what?'

'I was sent here to investigate those vanishing SSS agents,' Torin muttered.

'What agents? What vanishing?' This was news to Sam.

Torin fleshed out the story, and by the time he'd finished, Sam was none too sure about going on. But what choice did they have?

Kyle and Torin looked at her expectantly.

'We keep going,' she said simply.

Torin shrugged off Kyle's attempts to help him and so the young man joined Sam, choosing which tunnel to take.

"That one,' he said, pointing at the third one along the cavern.

'Why?'

'I don't know. It draws me.'

'Good enough, I guess,' she said. She looked back to Torin, who had removed his jacket and was wrapping it around his right arm.

'Now what?' she said, a tad more sharply than she intended.

'Nothing,' he said understandably defensively.'Just hurt my wrist getting up.'

'Well, I did offer...' started Kyle but Torin coughed.

'Not your problem, young man. Your offer was kind. More fool me for rejecting it, eh?' He suddenly lurched on ahead of them, down the tunnel Kyle had selected, suddenly unafraid of the dark or claustrophobia. He turned back just before disappearing into the darkness.'Well, c'mon you two. No point in waiting.'

Sam decided she would never understand people.What the h.e.l.l was she doing with this motley duo of social rejects?

She grabbed Kyle's hand and dragged him after her. 'Come on, Mr Way Forward. You're lagging behind.'

They followed Torin Chalfont into the tunnel.

SSS Agent Bobby Franks was about to start his patrol on the perimeter of the Stadium. Tomorrow morning he would be here with the rest of the Agents, ready to watch as the d.u.c.h.ess of Auckland, come all the way from Earth in the s.p.a.ce Pioneer, officially stared the Games.

That morning he'd sent a subs.p.a.ce telegram to his mother (she preferred it to electronic pagers - she was one of the old school who believed in traditional interstellar communiques) explaining his role. She'd be thrilled that he was there. And if he could 'accidentally' walk in front of one of the holocrews, well, she might even see him. He'd try to wave if he could.

No, better not. Sergeant Major Zzano'pt'll would reprimand him for that.

Oh well.

His thoughts were interrupted by his boot suddenly getting stuck in something. It was a trail - it looked as if someone had spilled a ma.s.s of adhesive along the side of the road, towards the nearest Power House for the Stadium. He'd better check, he decided.

Reaching the Power House, he saw that the trail went under the door. Odd.

The Power Houses were small buildings, housing nothing more than a bank of electronic switches and a tiny subgenerator. Little room for more than two people (and only then if they breathed in) and were very restricted in terms of who actually had access to them - they took the power up from the central generator and bled it into the Stadium. This provided power for the holocrews, the lights and, of course, the Olympic torch. No one should have gone inside now - all the repair crews were finished days ago.

Agent Franks pushed gently on the door. It started to open -which immediately made him tense up.

The rules were quite clear on this. Anyone inside had to secure the door behind them. So whoever was in there was either remiss (and deserved to be on a charge) or unwelcome (and deserved to get caught and imprisoned).

As he pushed harder, there was resistance, so he quickly unholstered his blaster and primed it.

Taking up the a.s.sault stance drilled into him and his fellow recruits by Sergeant Major Zzano'pt'll, Franks prepared to order the intruders) out into the open.

Before he could speak, the door opened and one of the SSS scientists came out.

'Dr Mason?' Franks recognised him.'Why are you -'

Franks stopped. And for a brief moment there was something else standing where Mason had been. It was two metres high or more, insectoid in appearance, with a ma.s.sively muscular segmented body rearing up from a strong tail, a set of pincer claws on the end. Hundreds of tiny suckers on the underside of the tail pushed it upright and on top of the neck was a horrific head - two amber bulbous eyes, bristling tentacles and antennae and a ma.s.sive set of mandibles that looked as though they could crush anything.

He raised his blaster...

'Stop!'

Mason was there again.

The monster was gone.

'What on Earth are you doing, Agent Franks?' asked Mason, glancing at the agent's name tag.

'I'm sorry, Dr Mason. For a moment I saw... something terrible...' Franks shuddered.

'You're babbling like a baby, man,' snapped Mason.'Let me help you.'

He held out his hands and without thinking, Franks allowed his own hands to rise up and meet Mason's, dropping his blaster to the dusty ground in the process.

At the last moment, he caught sight of the hands themselves. Or rather the blunt stumps that had replaced them, covered in some kind of greeny-brown substance.

Franks ceased to care after that as his flesh touched the mucus and his brain was flooded with pain and heat.

'Obey this man,' said a rasping voice inside his head.'Fjijoy the glory that is the Winrn.'

Moments later, Dr Miles Mason and SSS Agent Bobby Franks were walking through the security perimeter and into the Stadium, entering through the athletes' entrance, which led straight to the dressing rooms.

And left behind, wallowing in the warmth and power they were siphoning off from the subgenerator, the numerous Wirrrn larvae basked in the antic.i.p.ation of what was to come.

Chapter 9.

Song From The Edge Of The World

It was time.

The Wirrrn Queen could see through the eyes of her agent that Mason was with the alien athletes.

Some of them were uninterested. Some of them were curious. Some of them were greedy. Some of them were appalled. But it did not matter in the slightest. The moment just one group took the pills on offer, the rest would follow. The Queen had observed these people closely.

For many years the diverse races that formed this coalition called the Galactic Federation had enjoyed the regime. Each opted to believe that what they were partaking in was of immense benefit, both to themselves and to their neighbours.

But the truth was darker. Each planet was still torn by bitter paranoia. A majority of them agreed to join the Federation only because they were poor and wanted riches. Or they were weak and wanted more power. Or, more often than not, they were frightened that if they did not succ.u.mb to the Federation, they would forever be wondering what they had missed out on.

All of them made their broadcasts, their speeches and their const.i.tutions claiming to believe in universal harmony, free trade and a vast 'brotherhood' to create peace and co-dependency, and to do away with poverty, weakness and solitude. But the Queen knew better.

Few of the planets actually believed in this - most were looking to get whatever they could out of the Federation before making a new bid for more power, or departing and setting up an alternative Federation.

One race would be seen as particularly inflammatory at Federation council meetings and others would whisper how they wished they weren't there, but democracy meant all opinions could be heard. Others would call for moderation, to allow one race to ensure that none of the others said anything unpleasant, or at least present their views in a less hostile manner.

Other groups sought to create subcommittees and councils, focusing on whichever piece of politicking appealed to them alone.

Before long, the Federation would crumble. All the Queen was doing was speeding that up - and achieving domination for the Wirrrn as part of the result.

The simple truth was - and her distribution of the drugs was proof of this - no one wanted anyone else to have benefits they didn't have themselves.

As soon as one race succ.u.mbed to Mason's drugs, the rest would have to follow, because they were simply too frightened, or too paranoid, that they might be missing out on something good.

These creatures were pathetic.

But soon they would be all Wirrrn.

The Wirrrn Queen sent out another telepathic message to Mason, urging him to hurry.

Doctor Mason tried to melt into the crowds milling around by the athletes'

area. A couple of the cleaning droids gave him a cursory look and in the distance he saw a group of Cogwegs practising for the artificial life-forms'

sub-Games.

He glanced across to the huge chronometer, counting down to the start of the Games themselves. Not long now.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned, smiling. A group of aliens was facing him. A couple of humans were at the back. In front of them was a Saurian, a small white scale-covered marsupial, with elephantine ears, black oval eyes and a white curved beak. Beside that were a couple of aliens he didn't recognise, tall, white and thin, with red rooster combs on their heads, silver suits and rough, un-made looking faces. To their right were Morogs, squat humanoids from Pindant, and he tried not to wince at tfieir pungent smell. Not good form for a famed xen.o.biologist, after all. At the front of the group were the bald, salmon-skinned Hiinds, who, having overthrown the Mufl Empire a few decades back, were now trying to ingratiate themselves with the Federation. If they were alongside these desperate, and pitiful, specimens, they wouldn't keep their newly won empire for long.

'We want the pills,' said a snarling voice to his right.

Mason turned to see a group of less than pleasant-looking athletes. Two of them were four-armed Monains, their pointed heads c.o.c.ked, leering smiles on their faces. The speaker was one of three lupine Werelox, bouncing and catching a small medicine ball with one hand.

Mason held out his hand, and the crowd gathered around.'Call this a free sample,' he said quietly. Take whichever colour you prefer. The red ones metabolise slightly faster and are less identifiable on narc-testing, but the blue ones are slightly more powerful. Believe me, after youVe taken one of these little gems, you'll feel like a new... a new person.' Mason smiled.

The Werelox leader tossed his ball to one of the Morrains, who caught it perfectly. He picked out a blue one.'Strong is better, I think.'

Mason shrugged. 'Take what you want, but only these are free. You're the lucky ones, because you're willing to be upfront and ask. All I want is for you to spread the word. I'll be here until about diirty minutes before the opening ceremony, OK?'