Doctor Who BBCN02 - The Monsters Inside

by Doctor Who

The cream carpet softened his footfalls as he approached.

  Voices carried from inside her room.

  ‘You were careless and undisciplined, my daughter,’ a woman was saying. She had an austere voice, shot through with age. ‘We cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves now.’

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  ‘I have acquired an alibi. She would not dare to give me away.’

  Robsen would have said it was Blanc until he heard the woman giggle: a joyful sound that he would never associate with her. ‘I nearly scared her to death.’

  ‘Await my commands, child,’ said the first woman. ‘You will find further support here shortly.’

  Robsen crept nearer to the door. As he did so, the ground seemed to thrum beneath his feet, like some powerful tremor was building, just for a few seconds. Then it was gone. What the hell. . . ?

  Frowning, he knocked quickly on the door. ‘Blanc? It’s Robsen.

  Everything OK?’

  Silence. He couldn’t hear a thing.

  Then the door opened. Blanc stared at him expectantly.

  ‘You’re supposed to be on duty. I’ve been trying to find you.’ He pushed inside her room. ‘I thought you had someone in here?’

  Blanc gestured round the empty room, and Robsen peered into the one adjoining. It was empty.

  ‘I was listening to a recording.’ Blanc smiled and held up a gleaming audio disc. ‘I’ve just come from Kazta’s cell. She’s disturbed – reckons someone has it in for her, that she’s being threatened. She said she recorded them on her sound pad. So I came back here to listen for myself.’

  ‘And?’

  She looked dismissive. ‘I think it’s staged. She’s making it up.

  Attention-seeking.’

  Robsen thought back to the voices he’d heard. ‘I’d like to listen.’

  She shrugged and inserted the disc.

  ‘ Breathe a word about this and I’ll make you sorry. . . ’ The voice was low and guttural. It spoke over a backdrop of Kazta’s terrified sobbing.

  ‘ No one will believe a fat liar like you, anyway. And if you say something, I’ll get to hear. You know I will. And I’ll show you the monster in me again. . . ’

  Robsen shifted uneasily as she turned it off.

  ‘You see?’ said Blanc quietly, a smile flickering round her thin lips.

  ‘It’s nonsense. Has to be staged. . . don’t you think?’

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  Atlast,thoughtRose,asWarderJaminimarchedherinsidetheGov-ernor’s office. Jamini was a bit rough – in every sense – but Rose was glad of the willowy, long-faced woman’s presence. She still didn’t trust the Governor. She’d been looking for the zip in his head in the wrong place – he could well be Slitheen too. But if that was true, why would he save her from Blanc by calling her to his office in the dead of night?

  At least there were no spooky lights in his office this time-though from the smell of things he was still cracking one off every now and then. He was sitting behind his desk in a smart peacock-blue suit and black tie; this transformation from his usual scruffy state was presumably one of the reasons she’d been kept waiting.

  Robsen knocked on the door and entered. ‘No doubt about it, sir,’

  he told the Governor. ‘The keys are Norris’s. And –’

  ‘– he’s gone missing,’ Rose cut in. ‘Nowhere to be found?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Robsen. He looked uneasy. ‘Not a sign of him.’

  Rose nodded. ‘You found Blanc, though, right?’

  ‘I am conducting this inquiry,’ thundered the Governor.

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  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Robsen stiffly, looking straight ahead like a soldier on parade. ‘It’s just that when we found Tyler, she did seem to know that Norris would be gone.’

  ‘Of course she did! Because they set it up between them!’ said the Governor. ‘He had to run because we foiled their little plan! Oh, I never trusted Norris. Always finding fault. Always trying to convince me people were –’

  ‘Disappearing?’ asked Rose pointedly.

  A heavy silence fell upon the room, only broken when a loud, wet-sounding burp burst from the Governor’s throat. He opened the drawer to his desk and swigged from a bottle of milky fluid. ‘Stress,’

  he muttered. ‘All I get is stress.’

  ‘Should we perhaps speak with Warder Blanc?’ mooted Jamini.

  Again, Robsen opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘You mean you believe that ludicrous rubbish about Blanc being some enormous killer monster?’ spluttered the Governor.

  ‘If you take a close look at her head you’ll see there’s a little golden zip, like a centre parting under her hair,’ Rose said.

  ‘And when you attacked me, that was what you were looking for?’

  She blushed. ‘Back then, I thought the zip would be in your forehead.’

  The Governor stared at her as if she was fruit-loops. ‘Well, if it will help disabuse you of this absurd fantasy. . . ’ The Governor combed his fringe neatly this way and that. Rose had to admit that there was no telltale glint of metal in his scalp.

  Robsen glanced over awkwardly at Jamini, then cleared his throat.

  ‘What should we do about Norris?’

  ‘I’m sure he will turn up in time,’ snapped the Governor. ‘Now, Robsen, return to your patrol. I’m not prepared to listen to another word of this fantastical nonsense!’ Robsen walked out, and the Governor advanced slowly on Rose. ‘However, it seems the same cannot be said for Consul Issabel, Technocrat Major of Justice Prime. She is so insis-tent that she must speak with you at once, Tyler, she’s seen fit to ruin my rest period, demanding you be prepared for an audience.’

  ‘Why? What have I done?’

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  ‘We shall see.’ He threw some fresh clothes at her, and what looked like a bag of cosmetics. Jamini, take her to the executive washrooms and see that she smartens herself up.’ He paused. ‘Issabel is a prime mover in Justicia. I want her to be given a good impression of this prison.’

  ‘And never mind the reality,’ Rose muttered, as Jamini marched her away.

  The Doctor passed Flowers a printout hot from the computer feed.

  ‘Here you go. Projected safety levels. That’s what Rose should come up with.’

  Flowers nodded and pulled out a small, boxy device. ‘I’ll check the figures on this. The gravometer.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Blista’s been working on it,’ she explained. ‘Internal scanner picks up real-time data on planets and stars, and their gravity fields. If it really works it could take years off his sentence.’ She frowned. ‘I’ve dialled up Justicia. But I’m getting a different reading.’

  The Doctor frowned and took the gravometer. ‘Try the computer –it uses the planets’ orbits as you calculated them two years ago, right?’

  ‘Right.’ She did as he suggested. ‘Aha. Now the figures match. Poor Blista. Must be a bug in his programming.’

  The Doctor frowned at the data scrolling down the gravometer’s screen. ‘Yeah. Suppose there must be.’

  Suddenly, Flowers jumped up. A slightly hunched woman threw open the doors and stormed into the lecture theatre. She was dressed all in black, which only made her pale, gaunt face seem whiter still.

  Her thin grey hair was ruffled, as if she’d raced here from wherever she’d sprung from.

  ‘Consul Issabel, this is the Doctor,’ said Flowers.

  ‘Should I salute?’ the Doctor wondered.

  ‘I suggest you do not provoke me,’ said Issabel tightly. ‘I am going to a good deal of trouble because of you.’

  ‘Only cos you know I’m worth it.’

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  ‘But are you?’ Issabel studied him appraisingly. ‘How do you propose to send gravity waves faster than light without a disruption engine the size of a small planet?’

  ‘By using the six big planets you’ve got already.’

  She stared at him. ‘Explain.’

  ‘It’s an a
mazing coincidence – but get this. Justicia’s planets are evenly spaced in proportion to each other, right? All spinning about, all whirling around their three suns in a perfect circular orbit. . . ’ He shrugged. ‘Well, seems to me it’s like some giant cosmic centrifuge waiting to happen, isn’t it?’

  Flowers gave a strangled gasp behind him. ‘Of course! An ordinary centrifuge can simulate the effects of gravity or acceleration on humans or animals.., but if you could somehow harness the energy of the entire planetary system. . . ’

  But Issabel was harder to impress. She didn’t seem surprised in the least. ‘And how would you harness that power, Doctor?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’d build a gravity amplifier.’

  Flowers was fiddling excitedly with the hem of her grey top. ‘And if you amplified the natural gravity into faster-than-light gravity waves, you could open up those short cuts through space we were talking about.’

  ‘Yeah. Of course, you’d only need to go to work on a small part of space. Use the amplified gravity to open up a warp-hole big enough to send a ship through.’

  She clapped her hands together. ‘A tunnel through time and space!

  Gateways to interstellar travel! The more you amplify the waves, the further you can travel through the warp-holes!’

  ‘What do you think, Consul Issabel?’ the Doctor enquired. ‘Do I win a coconut?’

  ‘It’s a brilliant theory!’ Flowers said dreamily.

  ‘But it is only a theory, Doctor,’ said Issabel, still quite unruffled. ‘I’d be interested to know the limits of such an amplifier.’

  ‘There are no limits, in theory.’

  ‘Prove it!’

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  ‘Wouldn’t take long. That Blista fella has already done the ground-work with his experiments. They just need some adapting.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, when you transfer my friend over here, perhaps we’ll show you.’

  ‘You’ll do exactly as we want, Doctor,’ Issabel hissed. ‘I promise you that.’ There was something dark and murderous in her eyes. ‘Now, if Flowers has prepared the test for your “friend”. . . I suggest we begin.’

  When Rose was washed and ready, Jamini escorted her back to the Governor’s office. He indicated that she should sit in a high-backed chair. The chair faced a blank wall, but as Rose took a seat, a woman came into focus.

  She was knocking on a bit with pinched, worried features. She stood slightly hunched, not making full eye contact.

  ‘Greetings, Consul Issabel,’ said the Governor behind her. ‘I have done as you’ve asked. It is a pleasure, of course, to receive your image.’

  ‘This is the prisoner?’ demanded Issabel. ‘Rose Tyler?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rose. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To be impressed,’ said the woman, with the ghost of a smile. ‘Very well, Doctor.’

  ‘Doctor!’ yelled Rose. She jumped up from her chair with delight but Jamini was there to wrestle her back into it. ‘Doctor, are you there?’

  ‘Yeah! I’m here!’ His grinning face pushed into view on the screen.

  Rose could have sobbed with relief. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

  ‘Are they treating you OK?’

  ‘There’s a Slitheen here –’

  ‘That’s enough,’ hissed the Governor.

  ‘Slitheen?’

  That was Consul Issabel, out of shot; she sounded shocked. ‘Governor. . . ?’

  ‘You mean. . . ’ The Governor gulped. ‘Forgive me, Consul Issabel, but – but you’ve actually heard of these. . . Slitheen things?’

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  ‘I’m sharing a cell with two of them,’ said the Doctor brightly. ‘Not bad company once they get used to not being able to kill you.’

  ‘What would a Slitheen be doing in a jail for human juveniles?’

  asked another woman, outside the circle.

  ‘Trying to slaughter me for one thing!’ said Rose.

  The Doctor’s face darkened. ‘What kind of a prison are you running, Governor, where alien creatures can threaten the people in your care?’

  The Governor actually quivered.

  ‘The girl’s delusional!’

  he

  protested.

  ‘Yes,’ said Issabel, with sudden certainty in her voice. ‘She is wrong.’

  Seconds ago she’d seemed genuinely alarmed – so why was she now dismissing Rose’s story out of hand? ‘Doctor, you have a point to prove. I suggest you attempt to do so at once.’

  ‘Point to prove?’ Rose frowned.

  ‘They don’t believe you’re a genius,’ said the Doctor. She caught the playful light dancing in his blue eyes. ‘They don’t reckon I need you, and they’re so, so wrong. So, anyway, I’m sorry, but they want to test you.’

  ‘Genius. Test. OK.’ Rose kept herself composed, though there were some heavy-duty alarm bells ringing inside her right now. ‘Whatever.

  Go for it.’

  ‘It’s a question of gravity wave mechanics. . . ’ said the Doctor, and he started rabbiting on about relative densities of planets and orbital inclinations and God only knew what. He usually preferred to gloss over the techy stuff, so Rose guessed he was attempting to impress Issabel and whoever else he was with. She glanced up at Jamini and saw the warder’s eyes glazing over. The Doctor was scoring around eleven out of ten on the scientific waffle-ometer, and clearly Rose the genius was meant to get exactly what he was talking about.

  ‘I get the picture,’ she said carefully. ‘You want me to solve this gravity problem. Without any help.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. ‘With no help at all.’

  A small, down-at-heel woman nudged into view, coming up to chest height on the Doctor. ‘Rose?’ She smiled a little self-consciously. ‘I’m 90

  Senator Flowers, the Doctor’s overseer and in charge of the gravity wave project.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Rose evenly, and managed a smile back. She’d take Flowers over Blanc and the Governor any day.

  ‘The Doctor’s outlined the situation and detailed the relative orbits.

  Assuming a gravity bend of 96 per cent in system space, what would the tangential warp offset register?’

  Rose swore she could feel the colour draining from her cheeks.

  ‘Hey, Rose, it’s worth your while to answer,’ said the Doctor. He leaned a little closer. ‘If this project comes off we get a royalty that could bring in a lot of cash – and we’re talking telephone numbers, right, Flowers?’

  ‘Be silent, Doctor,’ snapped Issabel.

  ‘Sorry!’ he looked at Rose again.

  ‘Mum’s the word.’ Flowers frowned at her. ‘Well, Rose?’

  Rose adopted her most studious expression. The Doctor was cheating somehow. Her mind raced. Telephone numbers. . . Mum’s the. . .

  Her mum ‘s telephone number? Was that what she was supposed to reel off here?

  All eyes were on her. She had one shot at this.

  A thick trickle of sweat squirmed down between her shoulder blades. What about the 020? Was that part of the deal?

  She cleared her throat. ‘I’m not surprised Consul Issabel wants you to stay quiet, Doctor. She might think you’re sending me a coded message.’

  He laughed as if at the very preposterousness of the idea. ‘No. No codes.’

  Rose thought she might join the Governor in letting one rip as she reeled off the number: ‘7. . . 398. . . ’

  Flowers smiled once Rose had finished. ‘She’s close, Consul, considering that’s a mental calculation. All right then, what about the warp overlap?’

  Rose’s buoyant heart started sinking again, and fast.

  The Doctor was frowning, fidgeting. ‘She’s already taken the test, Flowers.’

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  Flowers glanced up at him in mild surprise. ‘Shouldn’t be hard for her, Doctor, considering the mental agility she’s just demonstrated.’

  �
��Yes, Doctor, don’t fuss,’ Rose said coolly, trying to buy time. ‘It’s not a problem.’

  ‘It is,’ the Doctor insisted. ‘These people always want more proof, I’m sick of it. It’s like when I brought Pauline, Martin and Sonia in-house –’

  ‘Be silent, Doctor,’ snapped Issabel.

  ‘– so many stupid questions they had to address –’

  ‘Be silent.’

  Rose looked at him, uncomprehending. Why was he babbling on about the Fowlers from EastEnders? She’d made him spend a day off watching old episodes on video in her flat a while back, catching up on some storylines she’d missed. Think, think. . .

  ‘Can’t we all just talk face to face?’ the Doctor asked hopefully. ‘If you look at a screen like this for too long, your eyes go square, I’ll bet.’

  Except he said the last words oddly so they sounded like “Albert”.

  Albert Square – the Fowlers – bringing them in-house. In a house?

  Questions they had to address. . .

  ‘Address!’ she blurted, wide-eyed.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ blinked Flowers.

  ‘Nothing.’ Rose racked her brains for the Fowlers’ address in Albert Square. The Queen Vic is 46. . .

  ‘Answer her question, Tyler,’ said the Governor warningly.

  ‘Oh yes. Sorry. You want to know about the warp overlap.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Flowers, watching her carefully.

  Number 43 – no, that’s Sharon’s old flat, come on, come on. . .

  ‘An overlap of 45!’ she declared.

  Flowers smiled. ‘Yes, that’s exactly right.’

  The Doctor grinned wolfishly at her. But then Issabel pushed past him, came into the centre of the screen.

  ‘Forty-five what?’ she enquired icily.

  Rose copped a deaf ’un. ‘’Scuse me?’

  ‘An overlap of 45 what?’

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  But then, to her planet-sized relief, she was saved by the bell. Or rather, by the strange wailing warbling noise that seemed to tear out of the screen. It was some kind of klaxon.

  ‘Fire drill?’ the Governor wondered.

  ‘Code One alarm,’ snapped Issabel, forgetting Rose and rounding on Flowers. ‘Attempted breakout.’