Doctor Who_ Placebo Effect Part 5

The Foamasi nodded (at least, Ritchie a.s.sumed that was what the movement was - Foamasi did not really have necks as such) and again dramatically swished one of its arms around.'It is just as much in our interest that Sergeant Dallion's people do not live to report their findings as it is yours.'

I'll bet, thought Ritchie, but kept that to himself. He regretted telling the Foamasi he required Dallion's death - but if the Guardian found out he was ignoring the rule book, his own career would be finished.

The Foamasi stopped as a shrill bleeping came from something in the pouch it wore around its waist. 'My apologies, Commandant, I must leave you for now. We will talk later.' And it returned to its secret corridor and whatever lay beyond that provided it with a quick escape route.

As the panel silently slid shut, Ritchie let out a breath. He then stabbed, a little harder than he should, at a comm b.u.t.ton on his desk. He stared at his face, reflected in the black metal, while waiting for the answer. He was definitely looking drawn, and his hair was getting thinner. G.o.d, he'd only been on Micawber's World a few months. He needed to get back to Earth soon. This dealing, double-dealing and hush-hush stuff was not his forte.

His main office door opened to admit a Teknix, who bowed customarily.

This was Kra.s.six - the only Teknix in the building. Only Ritchie's most trusted staff even knew of his existence, and Kra.s.six was very good at being seen by only those people. The light reflected off Kra.s.six's head and Ritchie reflected gloomily that a.s.suming he got out of all this unscathed, he'd be as bald as the Teknix was himself in a few years.

'Kra.s.six, have the sergeant and her troop gone?'

'Indeed, Commandant.'

'Did they see you?'

'Of course not.'

Ritchie stood up. 'OK, the Foamasi are making their move. I want you to follow the Foamasi that are following Dallion's group. Got that?'

If there was any irritation in Kra.s.six's voice at the suggestion he could not grasp this, it did not show, but Ritchie was sure it was there.'Of course, Commandant. Whatever the Foamasi believe is beneath the surface of this planet will be ours, not theirs.'

"Thank you, Kra.s.six, that'll be all.'

With another bow, Kra.s.six left.

Ritchie was finally alone. Playing various groups off against each other and for what? He had no idea, but whatever it was, the Foamasi believed it was going to strengthen their power base in the solar system. So pretending to help them could only be good for Earth in the long run.

Ritchie swung his chair around and looked out of his office window. Directly opposite was Carrington Spire, the twentieth floor. Probably full of dull little civil servants doing dull little jobs, worrying about nothing but their pensions and pushing a datapad from one desk to another.

How he envied them.

Samantha Jones was feeling a bit narked. Again. And, as usual, a certain Time Lord was the cause of this.

But Sam's annoyance was nothing compared with Ssard's.

'He should be here. He is the best man. Whatever that means.' Ssard looked at Sam. 'I do not understand human customs, but it matters to Stacy. Therefore it matters to me.'

Sam thought Ssard looked ready to punch someone. So long as it wasn't her.

Fussing around the Martian, tightening his ceremonial clothing, was a Pakhar tailor, its diminutive furry body darting quickly around. Two yellow-and-purple-spotted horses, dressed in what clearly pa.s.sed for Sunday best on their home planet, were standing on their hind legs by the doorway to Ssard's apartment, ensuring that Stacy did not accidentally wander in.

Bad-luck customs are the same the universe over, Sam decided.

Ssard had removed his traditional warrior exosuit for a slimmer, darker one-piece affair, with a breastplate, knee-height boots and sleek black gloves. A white sash went from left shoulder to right hip, while a red sash around his middle acted as a sort of belt. From it hung the box containing the ring the Doctor was supposed to be responsible for.

The small hamster-like Pakhar (funny how most alien races seemed to have some equivalent on Earth, Sam noted, wondering whether on the Pakhar home planet there were tiny humanesque mammals kept in cages, forced to run around wheels for exercise and eat straw) was getting more fl.u.s.tered by the minute. Ssard's impatience was making his job exceptionally difficult and, in desperation, the little creature jabbed the Martian with a needle in a particularly vulnerable spot.

'For the ten millionth time, I'm warning you, the next time you move, stamp your foot, wave your arm or breath deeply, I'll shove one of these where the sun don't shine. Got that, Mr Ice Big Brave Warrior?' The voice reminded Sam of Kenneth Williams on speed, never stopping, barely pausing to catch a breath. Sam smiled as he stared right at her. 'And you can stop that smirking, young lady. Ooh, I don't know, young people today. No sense of occasion. No sense of style, either. I mean, take your friend, the Doctor. I mean, that coat of his.' The fiery little Pakhar tutted. 'I mean, no sense of colour, no sense of style. I mean, I've come to accept over the years dial the Doctor has no taste -' he took Sam's hand in one of his paws - 'but believe me, this is one of the worst. Then again, there was that multicoloured version a while back. Not quite sure where that came from.

Possibly one of those Kolpashan fashion houses. I mean, always a season or two behind the rest of us, I say. They say they're ahead,'examining retro', but no, they're behind. Ooh, I mean, they must think we were born yesterday.' Ssard coughed meaningfully, so the Pakhar jabbed him witii a pin and ignored him.'But you tell the Doctor to ditch that coat - hideous.

Mind you, not as hideous as what the b.l.o.o.d.y n.o.bs are wearing these days.

Regency - whatever that is - seems to be back in vogue. Regency, pah!'

Ssard started to adjust his waistband until the Pakhar shrieked and jabbed another pin into him, swearing less than nicely and calling into question the Martian's parentage and hatchling dynasty.

Ssard sensibly just muttered an apology and stood still.

'Super. Lovely. Bless you,' muttered the Pakhar tailor. And then swore loudly as Ssard moved again.

'Doctor!'

Sam breathed a sigh of relief followed by one of anger as the Doctor sauntered into the room, grinning as if nothing was wrong.

'Sorry, am I late?'

'Very nearly,' hissed Ssard.

Sam took the Doctor's arm. "Thank G.o.d you're here. Between Ssard and the furry tailor, we were going to have a bloodbath in here.'

The Doctor nodded.'Sorry, lost track of the time. How long have I been away, your time?'

'Four or five hours by now.' Sam screwed her eyes up a bit, suddenly wary.'Why? How long have you been away your time?'

The Doctor looked uncomfortable.'Oh not long. Ish.'

'How long?'

'A week. Maybe two.'

Sam took a deep breath.'Where?'

Before she could get an answer, two humans, clearly dressed for the wedding, came in. They were in their mid-fifties, dressed in some strange reflective silk, shot with a variety of colours and looking really impressive.

The man was trying not to look alarmed at Ssard, while the woman was staring at the two horse-people.

The Doctor disentangled himself from Sam and crossed quickly to them.

'Mary, Christopher, may I present M'Rek'd and P'Fer'd? They are Equinoids and are the ushers at the wedding.'

The humans tried to smile.

'H-h.e.l.lo?' said Mary.

'h.e.l.lo, Mary,' said the male Equinoid, P'Fer'd.'A pleasure to meet you.

Welcome to Micawber's World.'

Mary just nodded, too stunned to reply.

The Doctor continued. 'This is Sam Jones, my travelling companion.'

Christopher shook Sam's hand.'And you are...?'

Sam smiled broadly. 'Human.'

Christopher relaxed instantly.

'Why are these furless types here, Doctor?' squeaked the Pakhar tailor.

'They're in my way.' He stared at the Doctor with tiny black eyes.'But then, they're friends of yours so they're bound to be in the way. Comes with the territory.'

"The charming little chap with the needle and thread is Frankie.'

'Yeah, right,' Frankie said, sticking another pin into Ssard to express his annoyance.

'And this is Ssard.'

Ssard looked down at Mary and Christopher, both of whom tried, unsuccessfully, not to shudder. But then Christopher offered his hand.

'Don't you dare move!' screamed Frankie, but Ssard ignored him, and took Christopher's hand. And bowed slightly.

'Ssard, may I introduce you to Christopher and Mary Townsend?'

If Ssard felt any surprise, he hid it well. Sam, however, did not.

'Townsend... Stacy's mum and dad?'

The Doctor smiled, his blue eyes wide with pleasure.

'But the web of time and all that?' Sam hissed.

'That,' the Doctor whispered.'is why I've been away for so long. Putting other things in motion so that history won't notice their disappearance.

Tricky, but can be done. By a master.'

'Oh, I'm sure it can. What worries me,' Sam retorted,'is that you did it.'

'Oh bear of little faith,' quoted the Doctor, then returned his attentions to the new family. 'Stacy, by the way, doesn't know you're here,' he said to her parents.

Mary and Christopher Townsend were too engrossed in Ssard, their new son-in-law, to really listen.

Sam shook her head. 'I don't suppose they imagined their daughter would marry a Martian Ice Warrior. I guess it's a lot to get your head around.'

"That's the other reason I was nearly late,' the Doctor said quietly. 'IVe been giving them a quick tour of the cosmos, showing them the alien races and updating them on Stacy's life. Alien contact was restricted to a few invaders and a couple of benign helpers in the twenty-third century. But they're nice people. They'll adjust.'

Sam nodded. 'Good, because I know that having them here is the best present Stacy could ever get: Sam kissed the Doctor on the cheek. 'You're a nice bloke, sometimes.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'I try.'

Sam looked back at the confused humans talking animatedly now to the Equinoid couple and Ssard, while poor Frankie watched as his carefully pinned sashes and robes fell to the floor, ignored.

It was going to be the best day of Stacy's life, that was for sure.

Kyle Dale adjusted his long black robe and reset his wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off his pale skin. He then tightened the yellow cord around his waist and tapped the side of his pebble gla.s.ses, altering them so that they turned a shade darker, polarising the effect of the sunlight.

Around him, the others from the Church were similarly preparing themselves for their vigil outside the stained-gla.s.s construct known locally as the Church of Earth. Reverend Lukas stood slightly behind them all, hands clasped behind his back, holding his sungla.s.ses, apparently unaffected by the harsh light. Unlike his charges, he was not sweating under his robes either, Kyle guessed. Reverend Lukas never sweated.

Probably too mundane. To the left, Jolyon and Phillipa were almost touching at the shoulder. Reverend Lukas would not like that. Then there were Maximilian Girard and his young friend,Veronique. To Kyle's right were the Reverend's longest-serving followers, the eternally young-looking Eldritch and Marcus. None of the others knew exactly how long they had been part of the Church, but they had certainly been there when each of them had joined up. Two or three others were scattered around - Kyle did not even know their names. They had joined them in transit - clearly Revered Lukas had called as many followers of the Church as he could for this big day.

So, here they were, grouped, silently waiting. Patiently observing the Church of Earth on Micawber's World, waiting to catch of glimpse of the couple who had hired it out for their wedding day.

A group of well-wishers from the planet had begun to gather. Kyle could see a mult.i.tude of people from different races gathered there, many of whom did not even know the couple, but had come because it was - according to the hotel's guidebooks -always an event worth witnessing.

Kyle was glad they were there. Today they would see something they would never forget.

'Is anything wrong, Kyle?'

'Not at all, Father. Everything is perfect.'

Reverend Lukas ran a finger down Kyle's shoulder. 'Be patient, my boy.

Your time is coming. Today, our work is here.'

'Yes, Father.'

Reverend Lukas always made everything right. Tnat's why he was their leader.

Kyle noticed that Reverend Lukas was talking quietly to Eldritch and Marcus. They nodded and slowly walked backward, then away from the gathering crowd. Kyle watched them through his ever-darkening gla.s.ses as, without actually running, they moved swiftly around the rear of the crowd and then circled until they were at the side door of the beautiful gla.s.s church.

Waiting for their cue.

Reverend Lukas had it all planned perfectly. This was going to be a wedding to remember.

The speeder car got nearer the church, and Sam gripped Stacy's hand.

'Nervous?'

'Yup.'