Doctor Who BBCN17 - Sick Building (5 page)

She could feel it crackling on the air: palpable as the approach of the deadly Craw itself.

The Doctor almost seemed to be baiting their host. ‘Ah, you can have too much luxury and ease, is the way I see it,’ he was saying, sitting back in his chair. ‘You lot, here, with all your gizmos and gadgets and servants doing everything, well, you don’t really have to struggle or try to do anything for yourselves, do you? You can’t have any zest or energy or relish in anything, can you?’

Tiermann glared back at him. His wife looked uneasy. There was a faceless robot sitting right next to Amanda and everyone had been too polite to draw attention to it. But Martha thought it was downright weird that, whenever Amanda leaned forward to take a mouthful of food or a drink or something, the robot next to her nipped in first and consumed it for her. Amanda didn’t seem to mind at all. She behaved as if this was perfectly normal.

‘You, Doctor, don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Tiermann said.

‘I think perhaps you envy us our lives here in the Dreamhome. Perhaps you’ve never known luxury and peace of mind.’

‘Ha!’ cried the Doctor. ‘I’ve known enough to know that the former certainly doesn’t lead to the latter. I think you’re just burying your heads in the sand here. That’s what you’ve been doing all these years.

Hiding from the cosmos. Hoping it’ll go away. Here in your perfectly tasteful paradise.’

There’s nothing wrong with good taste,’ Tiermann said.

‘But everything’s so bland!’ the Doctor burst out. This place is so tasteful, it’s painful! Everything’s beige and cream! There’s nothing 29

out of place! Everything’s trying so hard to be inoffensive and easy on the eye! Even the food we’re eating. . . It’s tasteless! Boring!’ He shoved his plate away with a clatter and there was an embarrassed pause. ‘Um,’ said the Doctor. ‘That was a bit impolite, I suppose.’

Amanda smiled at him. ‘Never mind, Doctor. . . ’ Tiermann interrupted then, taking great offence at the Doctor’s words. ‘You can say what you want about my aesthetic tastes, Doctor. That’s hardly going to hurt my feelings. But it does hurt me that you think I would gamble with the safety of my family.’

As their discussion went on and became ever more heated, Solin motioned to Martha. He whispered that maybe there was time, before dessert, to pop out onto the veranda for some cool air.

Outside there was a slight, ruffly breeze. Martha was amazed that there could be any such thing, under the crackling force-shield dome that covered Dreamhome. But the stars were out and the air was cool, and the whole place gave the illusion that it was a gorgeous, perfect summer night. Even though she knew that, just beyond those trees, a hellish midwinter reigned supreme.

She sipped at her drink and smiled at Solin as he joined her, sitting on the concrete balcony.

‘My father gets quite upset if he feels our way of life is being criti-cised.’

‘The Doctor knows how to push people’s buttons,’ Martha admitted.

‘And Father is touchy, too, because all this is coming to an end: He has to face the busy universe again. He dreads it. He feels like the Dreamhome experiment has failed, in a way.’

A slim robot slid out onto the veranda to stand by them. It held out a packet of cigarettes and, before Martha could protest that she never smoked, the machine had lit two and started smoking both.

‘They really do everything for you, don’t they?’

Solin grinned. ‘It’s a filthy habit.’

‘I know that,’ said Martha. ‘But your poor mother. Does she never eat anything?’

‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘And only when she’s alone. Mother is very shy.’

30

‘What about you, Solin?’ Martha asked. She watched him get up and wander away. He looked very pale and almost sickly in the stark moonlight. ‘Haven’t you been very lonely, growing up here with no one else your own age?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘But then, I don’t know what I’m missing, do I?’

‘I suppose not,’ she said. ‘But have you really never met any other people besides your parents?’

‘Oh, one or two. Father has had a handful of visitors over the years.

No children, though. But. . . I’ve always had the staff to speak to, if I wanted other company. The Servo-furnishings are amazing. Just like real people, some of them, I imagine. They can be very lifelike. Even spontaneous.’

‘Hmm,’ Martha said, unconvinced. She eyed the robot next to them as it stubbed out both cigarettes and slid away, leaving a cloud of blue smoke. ‘I don’t think they’re very like real people, to be honest. It’s not like having brothers and sisters.’

‘Do you have siblings, Martha?’ Solin asked, sitting by her again.

‘Oh yes,’ she laughed. ‘A whole bunch of them. Well, a brother and a sister. Just about drove me mental. But I’d never be without them. I couldn’t imagine growing up without them.’

There came a much chillier breeze shushing past them and Martha shivered.

‘Please, don’t feel sorry for me,’ Solin said. ‘I’ve had everything I ever wanted, up till now.’

‘All right,’ Martha said. ‘It’s a pact. I won’t feel sorry for you.’

‘I like you, Martha Jones,’ Solin said, rather abruptly. ‘I think I am not only attracted to you, but I find that you are good company, too.’

‘What?’ Martha said. ‘You can’t just come out with stuff like that.’

He frowned. ‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s. . . well, it’s a bit embarrassing.’

He looked earnestly at her and she knew she was hurting his feelings. ‘But I am attracted to you, Martha. I felt it straight away. And you are a nice person, too. I do like you. I want to tell you this.’

‘Oh god,’ Martha sighed. ‘Social skills not high on the Dreamhome priority list, eh?’

31

‘On the contrary,’ Solin said, ‘My manners, I hope, are impeccable.

I hope I was very polite when I told you that I wanted to kiss you, and so on.’

‘What?!’ Martha started laughing at this. She couldn’t stop for a few minutes. ‘You’re just a kid! Shut up! Stop saying that!’

‘But I. . . ’ Solin stopped. Martha looked up to see fury flooding his face. Then, chagrined, he turned on his heel and marched back into the dining room.

Oh, well handled Martha, she congratulated herself. She followed him, feeling dreadful for laughing, and found she was just in time to be served a helping of the most extravagant trifle she had ever seen. The Doctor winked at her, already tucking in. Tiermann seemed furious still. His wife looked serene, watching her robot eat dessert for her. And Solin had been excused from the table.

I could do without the poor kid getting a crush,
Martha thought.

Crushes could be awkward. In fact, it was best to avoid having them completely, as she herself knew.

The Doctor was refusing to go to bed. He wasn’t, he said, in the least bit sleepy.

The rest of the household had retired some time ago, replete and yawning. He watched with some amazement as they all drifted off to their luxurious quarters, bidding each other sweet dreams. He wanted to shake them! This was their last complete night in this house, and they were treating the whole exodus-running-away thing as if they were setting off on a jolly holiday.

‘Make yourself at home, Doctor,’ Tiermann had told him. ‘Stay up as long as you like. The robots will bring you anything you require.’

He watched them go, and said good night, and didn’t even try to get Tiermann involved in a last-minute argument. In fact, as he told Martha, before she drifted off to her own room, he wasn’t sure why he had tried so hard to pick a fight with Tiermann. ‘Something about the bloke gets up my nose, though,’ the Doctor said.

At bedtime, even Solin had been as subdued as his mother, nodding a stiffly formal goodnight to their guests. ‘What’s the matter with 32

him?’ the Doctor asked Martha. She shrugged and blushed and the Doctor grinned. ‘Was it when you went out on the veranda? Did he declare his undying love for you, Martha? Did he?’

‘Shut up,’ she frowned, and hit him with a cushion. ‘Poor kid. He’s like a newly hatched chick, latching onto the first face he sees. . . ’

‘Ahh, it’s sweet,’ laughed the Doctor, and Martha rolled her eyes.

‘Hey, what about old Ma Tiermann, eh? The elegant Amanda? How weird is she, eh?’

‘Ssh! Keep your voice down!’ Martha knew that the Doctor’s voice could carry. She dreaded the idea of Amanda overhearing him.

‘But. . . how weird, eh? She even had a robot eating her dinner for her!’ Another thought seemed to strike him as he paced up and down the marble floor. ‘She’s just way too cosseted and primped up. They all are. How do they expect to survive in the real world, out there?’

Martha shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But they’re going to have to, aren’t they? Pretty soon.’ Then she stretched and yawned and told him she was off to her bed now.

‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘I’m staying up. I’m going to have a little think for a while. I’m not sleepy at all yet.’

Martha left him then, dead on her feet. The Doctor hardly ever seemed to need a full night’s sleep. She didn’t know how he managed, careering around at full speed like he did, gabbling away at full tilt.

Well,
she thought,
I’m not a Time Lord, and I need to get my rest, and try
out that fantastic bedroom. . .
And so off she went, leaving the Doctor poking around and exploring the Dreamhome.

Of course, the Doctor had a plan. He was staying up for a very particular reason.

He waited till everyone was gone, and the house was quite still, and he imagined that everyone was settled down. He bided his time by examining the strange, alien knick-knacks on the shelves, and glancing through the leather-bound books in the library. ‘It’s a library of all the most boring books in the cosmos. . . ’ he whispered. And it was true! He had never seen such a dull bunch. ‘It’s a temple of soporific charms!’ He barked his shin on a coffee table and cried out. ‘The place is chock-a-block with minimalism,’ he cursed.

33

When one of the robots came tootling up to him, asking if he needed anything, he brusquely told it, ‘No. I won’t need anything at all. All night. I need to be left alone.’

‘Very good, sir,’ the chunky, glass-bodied robot nodded, and turned away, rather stung by the Doctor’s tone.

‘Oh, wait!’ the Doctor said. ‘You could leave the French windows open, if you like.’

‘The windows, sir?’ The bland-faced robot somehow managed to look scandalised at the Doctor’s suggestion.

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m not tired yet, and I might fancy a stroll about on the lawns. Or maybe even a dash. Would you mind?’

‘It’s highly irregular, sir. But your wish is my command.’

‘Good,’ grinned the Doctor. He paused to admire all of the sparking and whirring innards of the robot, plainly on show through his bulky glass body. ‘What a charming robot you are. What do they call you?’

‘Stirpeek, sir,’ intoned the robot as he zapped the windows’ remote controls, and up they went with a shimmer and a hum.

‘Marvellous, Stirpeek,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now, would you kindly see to it that I don’t get disturbed at all? While I’m out taking the night air?’

The robot seemed to frown at him. Almost suspiciously. The Doctor blinked. He put on his most harmless expression.

‘Very well, sir,’ Stirpeek said at last.

‘Fantastic,’ smiled the Doctor. Then he turned and pelted out of the luxurious sitting room. He took great big lungfuls of the night air on the veranda outside. He relished the sensation of the cool, fresh night, after being cooped up for hours in the stuffy formality of the Tiermanns’ dinner party. He knew this fresh air was fake though: it was recycled and conditioned under the shimmering dome.

The dome! That’s what he was out here for, wasn’t it? The Doctor fished his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and set his jaw determinedly. Then he hopped over the stone balustrade and onto the dark lawn. Then he was belting hell-for-leather across the grass.

Inside the Dreamhome, several sets of glowing robot eyes watched him as he went. He had told the doubtful Stirpeek that he might go 34

for a run on the lawn. Perhaps this was nothing unusual. But still the Servo-furnishings were suspicious. None of them had ever seen anyone like the Doctor before. They decided to watch him very, very closely.

Meanwhile the Doctor was congratulating himself warmly for his success in escaping into the freezing dark. Easy! Easy as anything!

He skidded smoothly to a halt at the very edge of the lawn. He was back at the force shield and its harsh buzzing filled his ears. Beyond the shimmering transparency of the shield he could see the forest.

It looked sugar-frosted and beautiful in the moonlight. He knew, though, that it was home to a million terrible dangers. Even more so, in the night-time, than in the day. The desperate forest dwellers, spooked by the approach of the Craw, would be going out of their minds.

But. . .

and here the Doctor swallowed these thoughts down bravely. . . he had to gird his loins, or whatever the ridiculous phrase was, and get back out there, into the wintry wilderness. Though he hadn’t expressed it to Martha, he was worried about the TARDIS. In his keenness to help out the human settlers of Tiermann’s World, he had left the TARDIS-poor old thing-out there, vulnerable and alone.

Her powers were astonishing, but even she couldn’t survive the approach of the Voracious Craw. She’d be chomped and chewed up with the rest of everything when the Craw arrived tomorrow night.

So he had to get a move on. He had to open up the shields just enough to let himself out. He had to cross the deadly forest all the way they had come today. He had to make sure he didn’t get lost or eaten or in some way horribly maimed. And then he had to get to his TARDIS and bring it safely here. Great! Nothing to it! Just the kind of stuff the Doctor liked to get up to!

He hurried over to the pillar box which housed the force shield’s controls. Sonic at the ready. He could work out how it operated. Easy as.

Ah. Then it struck him. The pillar box was on the other side of the shield. He smacked his palm to his forehead. Stupid Doctor. But there must be another one! There had to be, didn’t there?