Doctor Who_ The Tomorrow Windows Part 39

The Doctor trains his deep, green eyes upon me. 'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Trix. . . I realise it may be difficult '

The more I think about it, though, the weirder it is. There are dozens of occasions when I could've mentioned it to the Doctor. Maybe it just never came up in conversation. But why haven't I told them?

The Doctor's speaking, but he seems far away. His words are m.u.f.fled and ring in my ears, as though I'm underwater. 'Please, Trix '

I want to tell him about Martin. I know I can trust the Doctor. He cares, he's never cruel. He will never think less of me, whatever I say or do.

I rub the side of my head, behind my left ear. There's a sharp, throbbing pain. I close my eyes, and see rotating sparkles.

'Need some air ' I climb off the console and stumble. I feel Fitz, or the Doctor, putting out a hand to support me but I brush them aside and stagger to the side of the studio.

I can't tell them about Martin. I can't.

The Doctor calls after me. I'm in the avenue between the drapes. It's a narrow, dark claustrophobic s.p.a.ce. The curtains shift and billow A familiar voice speaks. 'h.e.l.lo, Trixie Trix.'

Pressing my palms against the wall to stop myself from falling, I turn to face a shy-looking young man with John Lennon gla.s.ses and wide, excited eyes.

His hair is dishevelled and his T-shirt is a mess mess.

Behind him stands the rectangle of a tele-door. Within it, I can see the entrance to his enviro-podule.

Martin takes my hand. 'I've come to take you away from all this.'

'What's up with her?' said Fitz.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. 'I'm not altogether altogether certain ' he muttered. certain ' he muttered.

'You don't think that Reo thing's still controlling her do you?' said Fitz.

'I don't know,' mused the Doctor. 'No, not Reo. . . I don't think she's being controlled, or possessed. . . But I think possibly someone may have had a similar idea. . . '

Charlton gasped. 'Doctor, look at this '

Fitz jumped off the desk and hurried over to Charlton, who was staring in horror at the Tomorrow Window.

202.

In the window, the image swilled with fog. Then it cleared to reveal gnarled black crags and snaking lava.

'The future of Minuea,' breathed Charlton. 'It. . . it's changed back.'

'Yes. . . yes,' said the Doctor. 'I wonder. . . what can have happened to alter the course of events '

'Mr Kreiner Kreiner, so delightful delightful to see you. . . ' announced an unctuous voice from the far end of the studio. Fitz looked up, up into the glare of the studio lights at the rear of the audience area. A figure climbed down the stairs, silhouetted in the beams. Fitz recognised the figure instantly. to see you. . . ' announced an unctuous voice from the far end of the studio. Fitz looked up, up into the glare of the studio lights at the rear of the audience area. A figure climbed down the stairs, silhouetted in the beams. Fitz recognised the figure instantly.

Dittero Shandy emerged from the light and smiled a malignant, waxy smile.

Perspiration had lent his features a smooth, plastic sheen. His suit was dishevelled and sweat-stained. In his right hand, he held a blaster.

'Dittero Shandy ' said the Doctor.

'Doctor. Mr Mackerel. And some other gentleman with a beard.' Dittero indicated Prubert. 'How resplendent resplendent to make your reacquaintance. I regret to inform you, however, that this reunion shall be brief.' He levelled the blaster at Fitz. Fitz could see the estate agent's finger upon the trigger. He watched as the finger tightened. 'I intend to terminate it, forthwi forthwi forthwi' to make your reacquaintance. I regret to inform you, however, that this reunion shall be brief.' He levelled the blaster at Fitz. Fitz could see the estate agent's finger upon the trigger. He watched as the finger tightened. 'I intend to terminate it, forthwi forthwi forthwi'

Fitz was still alive. Dittero hadn't fired the gun. Instead, he continued to hold it at arm's length, his body frozen like a paused video.

There was a whirr and a hairline fracture appeared down the centre of his face. With a click, his head cleaved into two hollow sh.e.l.ls, revealing a nest of circuits, valves and wires. Diodes flashed. All that remained of his face was his eyes, glancing comically from side to side.

A familiar-looking cylinder telescoped out of the top of the circuitry.

's.h.i.t,' said Fitz. 'It's another one of them!'

'Another one of what?' Prubert asked.

'An electron bomb,' explained Charlton.

The Doctor dug in his pockets and stepped towards the android, brandish-ing his sonic screwdriver. It gave a high-pitched warble that rose to a tinnitus-inducing squeal. Fitz instinctively covered his ears.

Holding the sonic screwdriver before him like Peter Cushing with a crucifix, the Doctor approached the Dittero robot. His eyes never left the shiny, metal explosive device.

'How long have we got?' said Fitz, one step behind.

The Doctor whispered, 'No time at all.'

'What?'

'There is no timer delay on this one. I'm holding back the detonation signal with the sonic screwdriver, but if I were to switch it off bang!'

'Well, don't switch it off then.'

'I don't plan to,' said the Doctor, halting in front of the robot.

203.

'Shouldn't we be getting away?' called Prubert from behind them.

'And condemn Minuea to destruction?' The Doctor kept the screwdriver trained upon the circuitry as he reached inside with his other hand. He nudged at the wires with a cautious forger.

'Can you deactivate it?' whispered Fitz.

'I don't think so '

'It's the red,' said Fitz. 'Not the blue. You tried the blue last time.'

The Doctor withdrew his finger. 'No, no, it's too late. . . '

'So what can we do?' said Fitz over the whine of the sonic screwdriver.

'We need. . . a tele-door,' said the Doctor. He lifted his head as he called back to Charlton. 'Charlton, a tele-door!'

'We're not leaving?' said Charlton 'No. We just need to find a dead planet.'

Charlton scuttled up to them, holding his tele-door handle. This isn't a directional tele-door, I'm afraid. It will only take us back to my base.'

The Doctor rubbed the perspiration out of his eyes. 'That's not a great deal of use '

Keeping his head down so as not to come between the screwdriver and the bomb, Fitz rummaged in the estate agent's pockets. He located Dittero's tele-door handle, retrieved it, and held it before him, as he had seen Charlton do.

He wrenched it to one side and a rectangle slid open in mid air. 'Will this do?' said Fitz. Through the door, he could see the whitewashed street of Utopia sloping down to the glittering emerald sea.

The Doctor glanced at the tele-door. 'Utopia? There's no one there?'

Fitz shook his head. 'Not any more.

'OK,' said the Doctor. 'Fitz, Charlton, Prubert. . . If you can lift him through the tele-door. . . '

Fitz stared at the Doctor in astonishment. The Doctor gave him a hard look.

He was being serious. Fitz pulled himself together and ducked down to grab the estate agent's legs. Charlton reached for the outstretched arm, moving in front of the Doctor 'Careful!' snapped the Doctor through gritted teeth. 'Don't get between me and his head, or it will go off.'

'Sorry,' muttered Charlton, putting his hands around the robot's waist. Fitz gripped it by the ankles and together they tilted the estate agent on to its back.

It was surprisingly light, with the centre of gravity at the head. Fitz guessed it was largely hollow.

Fitz edged backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on the android. He felt the ground beneath his feet change from carpet to cobblestones. The heat of Utopia warmed his back and he could smell salty, sea air.

204.

He looked up. In front of him, Charlton emerged from the tele-door hanging in mid air in the middle of the street.

'Now put it down,' said the Doctor, following them through the door. Fitz placed the robot's feet on to the ground, and Charlton lowered it by the shoulders. 'Watch out,' said the Doctor. 'It is is a bomb. . . ' a bomb. . . '

Charlton placed the robot on the ground and stepped away, wiping his shiny hands. Fitz followed him back through the tele-door and into the studio. Ever so gradually, the Doctor backed into the studio after them.

'OK,' said the Doctor. 'We're going to have to do this quickly.' He nodded to Fitz, and Fitz gripped the tele-door handle. Then, as rapidly and smoothly as he could, he slammed the door shut.

And he was left holding the handle. The tele-door had vanished.

The Doctor switched off the screwdriver. 'There,' he sighed. 'We did it.'

'So it's exploded, then?' said Charlton. 'On Utopia?'

The Doctor nodded. 'But Minuea is safe. We should check the Tomorrow Window just to make sure '

Static crackled. Something buzzed and spat. Fitz turned around, trying to work out which direction the sound was coming from.

Prubert choked in fear. He was looking up.

Fitz followed his gaze. Above them, among the lights and gantries, was a shimmering mist of white noise. And within the mist, paper-flat figures floated. Each one dressed in black, like an undertaker, with twitching, thin white hands. Each one a distorted blur, a smudged photocopy of a human. . .

'Ceccecs,' breathed Fitz.

'Quick.' The Doctor turned to Charlton. 'Open a tele-door '

'What about Trix?' said Fitz.

'We'll. . . come back for her later. . . ' The Doctor looked up fearfully.

Charlton fumbled with the handle, then the familiar orange walls of the research station slid into view. 'What about the Tomorrow Window?'

'Leave it,' said the Doctor, shoving Charlton through the tele-door. 'We have to get away!'

I wait while Martin fumbles with the Yale lock, then follow him into the flat.

Pizza leaflets and white envelopes slither across the doormat. The gloomy hallway reeks of joss sticks. As Martin switches on utilities in the kitchen, I make my way to the living room.

It hasn't changed. I pick my way through the precarious heaps of books and over to the sofa. I shift some FHM FHM magazines to make some s.p.a.ce so that I can sit down. I'm not going to stay long. No need to make myself comfortable. magazines to make some s.p.a.ce so that I can sit down. I'm not going to stay long. No need to make myself comfortable.

Eric Cartman stares down at me from the opposite wall, beside the seven-p.r.o.nged leaf. Through the window I can see a galaxy of twinkling blue.

205.

Martin returns. He hasn't brought any mugs or coffee. He simply strides to his desk and sits down. 'Could you pa.s.s me the remote control?'

It's stuck down the side of the sofa. I pull it out and pa.s.s it to him.

Martin doesn't point the remote control at the television. Instead, he aims it at the window. With a whirr, the curtains draw shut.

There is a powerful electronic throbbing, and Martin's desk revolves to reveal a gleaming, angular white console covered in a strangely shaped keyboard with alien symbols. His fingers click familiarly over the keys.

Seconds later, each of the wall posters Eric Cartman, the Beatles, the marijuana leaf spins round to be replaced by a computer bank containing whirring, spooling tapes. Indicator lights flash on and off importantly.

And the London Underground map becomes a computer screen, blank except for two green, glowing words: Enter co-ordinates?

followed by a flashing cursor.

A sequence of numbers appears. The screen flashes from a chart of a galaxy, to a map of a solar system, to a schematic diagram of a planet. The diagram fills out, to become a clear, photographic image of a gas giant.

I recognise it instantly.

'Yes,' says Martin. 'That's why I brought you here.' He offers me a nervy smile. 'I didn't want you to die. You'll be safe here, with me. You see, Trixie Trix, I'm on your side on your side. I always have been.'

The picture on the screen cuts to a s.p.a.ce station surrounded by little green pulses. 'And now I know the location of Charlton's base. . . I can eradicate him once and for all.'

Charlton drew the tele-door shut behind them. 'There,' he announced, 'we're safe.'

'They can't follow us?' said Fitz.

Charlton shook his head. 'The location of this base is a complete secret,' he said confidently.