Doctor Who_ Unnatural History Part 12

Time to squelch this, right now. ' I'm I'm not going to be impressed by not going to be impressed by you you being sweet and wholesome.' being sweet and wholesome.'

'This isn't for you,' he shot back. 'This is for the Doctor.'

'What's that supposed to '

'It's the Law of Conservation of Niceness,' he said. 'It's a fundamental principle of the universe, like Schrodinger's cat or Heisenberg's knickers.' He twirled the chocolate bar in his fingers. 'The Doctor's always got to have someone around who can be fluffy and sympathetic. With your alter ego gone, for the safety of the cosmos, I have to make the supreme sacrifice. Give up smoking.

And practise saying "Gosh wow!"'

She followed him around a corner, waiting until he'd wound down. 'Fine,'

she said. 'Just keep in mind she's not me.'

He wasn't listening. He wasn't even looking at her. She reached out, wanting to grab him, shake him, drag him back into the real world and make him listen.

There was a unicorn in front of them, big as a Clydesdale horse.

Bigger. Filling up the narrow alleyway in front of them. The horn was a spiralled lance of ivory as long as her arm, solid as a piano leg.

Its cream coat was streaked with grime, the tufts of hair above each hoof dirty and chewed-looking. Hard muscles rippled under the muddied skin as it began to clop towards them. It looked as though it could kick the buildings down.

79.The unicorn gave a low, rolling snort, looking from Fitz to Sam and back again, then moved closer. Zeroing in on her now, lowering its head to her level.

'You have got got to be taking the p.i.s.s,' said Sam. to be taking the p.i.s.s,' said Sam.

The tip of its horn was right in her eyes now. She pulled backward as the point came on, and the unicorn snorted again and lowered its horn even further, tossing its head, forcing her to the side. She caught a glimpse of Fitz, almost hidden by the creature's bulk. There was no way he could reach her.

Then her back smacked into the alley wall and the horn was right across her throat, pinning her there.

'C'mon,' demanded the unicorn. Its voice was a deep growl, gravel at the bottom of the ocean. 'Hand it over.'

Sam swallowed, felt the horn press against her voice box. 'What?' she managed.

'The food. Hand it over now!'

Fitz unfroze, tugged the wrapper off his chocolate bar, and awkwardly pushed it into the unicorn's mouth. Huge grooved teeth closed on the chocolate, nearly taking his fingertips with it.

'It's all we've got,' said Fitz.

The unicorn chewed. With each chomp Sam felt the horn pushing against her neck. It only had to toss its head to draw blood, probably tear out her throat. All she could do was stare down the length of the horn, watching the giant nostrils flare, breathing the blasts of musky breath.

At last the unicorn backed off, nearly crushing Fitz into the opposite wall.

The alley was too narrow for it to turn around.

Its head flicked back and forth, keeping its horn pointed at them. 'Now get out of here,' it growled. 'Tell anyone and we'll kill you, understand? We'll kill you!'

The unicorn squeezed out into the wider alley on the other side, turned, and was gone.

'You OK?' Fitz asked.

Sam nodded. She didn't feel like speaking yet. They both stared after the unicorn, until finally Fitz let out a small laugh.

'This is Fitz,' he said. 'This is Fitz Kreiner's life encapsulated in an instant.'

The Doctor stood at the base of the Transamerica Building. Its tight pyramidal needle shot up into the sky, dizzying from ground level.

He had brought a signalling device from the TARDIS toolkit, just a sort of crude tuning fork for overband transmissions. He took it out of his pocket, 80 still craning his neck to see the tip of the building, and turned the k.n.o.b on the palm-sized box.

When he'd asked for directions to this building, Professor Joyce had rattled them off without a second thought. Since he'd settled in this city, the professor must have grown to know the area like the back of his wife's hand.

A few years ago, the Doctor thought, he could have chosen that kind of life.

To see a place the way Joyce did, in a way a perpetual tourist never could.

To actually know know everything you needed to, instead of living off guesswork and lots of randomly gathered sc.r.a.ps of knowledge. Like the mention in Fitz's notebook that had led him here. everything you needed to, instead of living off guesswork and lots of randomly gathered sc.r.a.ps of knowledge. Like the mention in Fitz's notebook that had led him here.

But he'd never been able to stay in one little corner and focus on it. There were always so many things just clamouring for him to learn them, all right now now. So much of his knowledge was encyclopedic, but only in the real sense of the word he knew something about everything, but not nearly enough about anything. It still bothered him somehow that, on almost any subject at all, there was someone out there who knew more than he did.

It was infuriating sometimes. Made him want to climb the walls. He actually glanced at the facing of the Transamerica Building for a moment, before decid-ing that even with a good running start he wouldn't get more than a metre off the ground before gravity took over.

Good thing there was another way up, then.

He waved the transmitter in the direction of the sky. The wave it sent out was undetectable by the eye, the ear. No radio or television would pick it up, no radar screen or satellite would notice its constant pulsing whine. The Doctor knew it was working only because a little red light came on to tell him so.

The bird arrived a few moments later. It perched on top of the pyramid, spreading its wings wide. They flashed golden in the afternoon sun, as though the tip of the building was on fire.

Tourists and pa.s.sers-by were already stopping, pointing, voices raised in surprise. The Doctor shielded his eyes from the glare as he stared up at the bird.

Sparrows and pigeons and seagulls were flapping and fluttering around it, like moths drawn to a flame. It was difficult to judge, but the golden bird looked too large to be an eagle, at least the size of a man.

The bird launched itself from the tip, a streak of golden light, spiralling down towards street level. People backed away, muttering nervously, suddenly aware of the size and immediacy of the thing. Horns tooted as drivers slowed down to crane their necks out of the windows, staring up.

The bird spiralled up again, lazily, gaining height.

81.Then it shot down like an arrow, grabbed the Doctor in its talons, and plucked him from the pavement.

He nearly dropped the signalling device as the bird dragged him up into the sky. Its talons were like great, hard fingers, easily encircling his arms. He had a dizzying, swooping view of the street, the diminishing cars and people.

He let out a shouted laugh as his stomach gave a roller-coaster twist, and looked up, past the golden bulk of the bird.

They shot past the tip of the pyramid. A hole opened in the air, sliding like a garage door, revealing a vast, metallic s.p.a.ce.

The bird carried him up into the docking bay. The sky rolled shut beneath them.

Somewhere else in the maze of alleys, the unicorn banged its head into a dumpster. There was still something edible down there. He could almost taste it. But every time he tried to get his mouth to it his horn wedged itself against the back wall of the metal box, and every time he tried to spear it he banged his skull on the top.

After the fourth or fifth time, he'd almost kicked the thing over in frustration.

Now he didn't even have that in him any more.

He backed out of the dumpster, ears sc.r.a.ping the edges of the square hole, and shook a blackened banana peel off his horn. His left front fetlock was still throbbing, sending jolts up his leg when he moved. He was unsteady with hunger. His stomachs had shrunk into a lump.

He'd have to move on. There wasn't anything left to live on here.

But the traffic in the main streets never seemed to stop, not even in the middle of the night, and he didn't know where to go, anyway. The natives would pick him up in an instant. He'd be shot or stuffed into a cage or sacrificed to some primitive G.o.d before he found anywhere else to hide.

He didn't fancy trying to teleport again. Moving against the whatever-it-was that had drawn them here was like swimming across rapids.

The unicorn's nostrils flared as he caught the scent of another being, close by. Too close to hide from. He turned, horn lowering, ready to fight. Or steal another morsel of food, if he could. He wanted sweet flowing water and sweeter gra.s.s, mouthful after mouthful. But a doughnut, an apple, a sandwich would do.

The man was walking towards him, apparently quite unafraid.

'Don't,'

warned the unicorn, levelling his horn.

'Hmm,' said the man. 'An interesting specimen.'

82.He opened the box he was carrying, and put the unicorn inside.

Chapter Seven..

Down at the marina the seagulls were bustling around Eldin's feet, s.n.a.t.c.hing up crumbs and cigarette b.u.t.ts with raucous glee. He sighed and turned the pages of the water taxi's booking schedule. When the boat was actually out, there wasn't much for him to do but sit beside the little booth, jotting down notes for his next column or listening to KSOL on his portable radio, hoping that a customer would relieve the boredom.

'Eldin Sanchez?'

A guy in a retro-Regency coat was beaming at him. The man was dwarfed by a hulk in a dark overcoat, topped by a fez.

'Your office said you would be here. I'm a friend of Fitz Kreiner. I'm called the Doctor.'

'Ohh ' began Eldin. He stopped himself.

'I believe you've, ah, expressed an interest in my friend here.' He plopped himself down on one of the pilings at the edge of the pier. 'He's called ' he let out a sneeze 'and he's the commander of a Basardi cargo transport.'

'Please meet you,' frogged the man in the fez.

'From s.p.a.ce?' said Eldin faintly.

'Yes.' Bored with the piling, the Doctor clambered to his feet and began pacing back and forth. 'From s.p.a.ce. Their ship is parked in hypers.p.a.ce, hovering above the city.'

'You're joking.'

'I've just been there,' said the Doctor. 'They make a mean cup of mint tea, let me tell you. The Basardi hyperdrive has a fault which causes it to interact with certain types of higher-dimensional energy. There's a concentration of it in real s.p.a.ce in San Francisco, so of course, one by one, a flotilla of their ships has been stranded here. And so ' he sneezed again 'has set up a sort of reception committee for new arrivals. Finding them places to live. Helping them get settled in.'

84.'Oh. The travel agency. Yeah.' Eldin realised he was staring at the man in the fez, the odd curve of his skull, turning sharply upward just before the round red hat hid the rest of the shape from view. . . 'So, uh, they told you all of this?'

'I'm from s.p.a.ce as well,' said the Doctor. Eldin started to laugh, then thought better of it. 'I also gave them the number of an admiral in England who might be able to help them get home. And they agreed to talk to you perhaps even do an interview. You see, they keep track of where the other people, ah, creatures too, that have arrived in the area are living, and they could use some help in spotting '

Eldin leapt to his feet, scattering seagulls. 'Fitz wasn't bulls.h.i.tting!' he almost shouted.

'And as for myself,' added the Doctor, 'I'm just looking for some information about a group of grey men. . . ' He trailed off.

'Greys?' said Eldin. 'That's a bit out of my territory. . . '

But the Doctor was just ignoring him, staring at the seals no, the water. The tide was batting sluggishly at the pilings, whumpwhump against the wood.

'Tidal changes,' said the Doctor, as though his train of thought had suddenly derailed itself into the Bay. 'Of course.'

'Wh-'

The Doctor whirled around and grabbed Eldin by the shoulders. 'Please, this is very important. Have there been any disruptions in the Bay recently? Sudden high water? Tidal waves? Anything.' The Doctor stared at him. 'Think, man!

This could be vital!'

'Well, yeah! Couple of days ago. Dennis from the aquatic park got there in the morning and found some of his paddle boats thrown up on to the pier.'

'Oh dear. . . ' The Doctor let go of Eldin's shoulders.

'Why?' said Eldin. 'What does it mean?'

The Doctor was suddenly backing away, staring past him. Eldin looked around in bewilderment.

'I'll have to catch up with you!' shouted the Doctor. He started to run.

Someone ran right past Eldin, almost touching him, the seagulls exploding in an angry white cloud as he cut through them. It was a man, wearing something grey where had he come from?

Eldin sat down, weakly.

The man in the fez sat down next to him and smiled a meaty smile. 'Greetings, Earthling,' he rasped. We come in peace.'

The Doctor glanced back as he pounded along the pier. The man in grey had 85.gained on him. He needed an exit, now.

Boat. Dead ahead, stuffed with tourists. He had an audience as he covered the last yards. 'Wait for me!' he shouted.

A skinny man was casting off, dragging a fat loop of rope from a pylon and tossing it on to the boat. The man jumped on after it, and pulled the ramp aboard as the boat backed away from the pier.

The Doctor didn't even slow down. One part of his brain started madly calculating velocities and trajectories. Another part started advising him strongly against this course of action. Another part was sticking its arms out and making aeroplane noises.

The Doctor leapt from the pier. There was a moment, almost a silent moment, when he was sailing free through the air, unconnected to anything.

Then he was vaulting easily over the railing of the ship, landing smoothly on his toes on the other side.