Deep Blue

by Mark Morris

  The policeman was silent for a moment, making the blond man sweat. Finally he said, ‘You know, I really can’t decide what to do, so I think I’ll ask the young lady here. Miss, would you like to press charges against this... er...

  gentleman?’

  Again, Tegan had to fight hard not to smile. She stared coldly at the blond man, who gazed back at her pleadingly.

  After a leisurely sip of her wine she gave a dismissive shake of the head. ‘He’s not worth it.’

  The policeman abruptly released his captive, who sprawled across her table, his legs splaying in a way that reminded Tegan of Bambi on the ice. Wincing from the pain in his arm, he pushed himself groggily to his feet. When he turned he found himself almost nose to nose with the thicker-set policeman, who grinned and said, ‘It’s just lucky for you that this lady has such a generous nature and that I’m off-duty.

  Now make yourself scarce.’

  The blond man looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but didn’t have the courage. Finally he gave a short nod and stumbled away. Rather than joining his friends over by the pool table, he headed straight for the door and lunged outside, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

  The policeman watched him go, then turned to Tegan. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Tegan. ‘I might not have been, though, if you hadn’t showed up. I really think he intended to punch my lights out.’

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said. ‘Calm your nerves? I just popped in for a quiet one myself, believe it or not.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said and held up her glass. ‘Same again, thanks.’

  ‘Coming up.’ He walked over to the bar.

  Tegan watched him ordering the drinks. He was attractive in a seventies’ sort of way. He was around thirty and, perhaps like many policemen of his era, obviously modelled himself on George Carter from The Sweeney. Certainly his hair was the same style, albeit darker, as were his clothes: kipper tie worn loosely, cuffs of his shirt turned up in a way that she always thought looked faintly ridiculous when she watched re-runs. He was not as rugged as Carter, though; his face was boyish, pleasant-looking, seemingly never far from a smile. He was broader-shouldered too, stocky but certainly not fat. He came back with another glass of wine for her and a pint of bitter already half-drunk for himself. ‘There you go,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks.’ She drained the remains of her first glass and picked up her second. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ he responded. They chinked glasses and drank.

  After a few moments he said, ‘Perhaps we’d better introduce ourselves. My name’s Andy Weathers.’

  ‘Is that PC or...’

  ‘Sergeant,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Tegan Jovanka,’ said Tegan, thrusting out her hand for him to shake. He looked faintly surprised at the gesture, but shook anyway.

  Nodding at the group by the pool table, he said, ‘So, do you know that crowd?’

  ‘Do I look as though I’d hang around with creeps like that?’

  She smiled to soften her indignation. ‘No, I was just sitting here when they came in and started giving me hassle. When I told them where to go, Prince Charming decided to thump me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Toerags. I ought to arrest the lot of them.’

  ‘I’m OK. I’ve handled a lot worse than them, believe me.’

  ‘So what brings you to the Sands?’

  She smiled teasingly, ‘How do you know I’m not a local?’

  ‘If you are, that’s a very convincing Australian accent you’ve got there. So, come on, what brings you to this part of the world? Are you here on holiday?’

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘So which part of Australia are you from?’

  ‘Brisbane. But I don’t live there at the moment.’

  ‘No? Whereabouts do you live?’

  ‘So many questions!’ she said. No wonder you became a policeman.’

  He took another sip from his glass and leaned back with a smile. ‘Sorry. Just making conversation. I don’t want you to think I’m coming on too strong.’

  ‘No, that’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m enjoying just sitting here, talking. I can’t remember the last time I did this with anyone.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, visibly brightening, and leaned towards her again. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I guess because my life’s so hectic.’

  ‘Why? What do you do?’

  ‘I used to be an air hostess, but now I just... travel.’

  ‘Seeing a bit of the world, eh?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit dangerous,’ he said, ‘a girl travelling around on her own?’

  Tegan realised she was going to have to tread warily here.

  She didn’t want to get embroiled in a tangle of lies, but neither could she tell Andy exactly what her life entailed. ‘Oh, I’m not alone,’ she said. ‘I travel with a couple of friends.’

  ‘And where are they tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘One decided to stay back at the hotel and the other one’s gone off on his own somewhere.’

  ‘“His”?’ said Andy casually. ‘They’re not both girls then?’

  Tegan knew where this was leading, but found that she didn’t mind. Equally casually she said, ‘No. As a matter of fact they’re both blokes.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Sounds like an interesting arrangement.’

  ‘It’s not what you think. They’re just friends,’ she said, and added teasingly, ‘Not that it’s any concern of yours anyway.’

  ‘Course not,’ he said innocently, swiftly draining the last of his pint. ‘Fancy another?’

  Tegan laughed. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

  ‘Course I am. Get the tourists drunk and have our evil way with them. That’s what we do in this town.’

  When he returned from the bar, Tegan asked him to tell her about himself. Andy grimaced and said there wasn’t much to tell. He’d been born and brought up in Tayborough Sands, and came from a long line of fishermen. ‘I decided to break tradition and become a copper,’ he said. ‘There’s no future in fishing any more for little family businesses like ours. The big factory trawlers are taking over.’

  ‘How does that make you feel?’ asked Tegan. ‘Pretty bitter, I bet.’

  He shrugged. ‘Not so much bitter. A bit sad, maybe. But it’s progress, isn’t it? Time moves on. You can’t do anything to stop it.’

  ‘No,’ Tegan said, ‘you can’t. So what’s it like being a policeman in a place like this ?’

  ‘Seasonal. Quiet in the winter, hell in the summer.’

  ‘I bet you hate tourists, don’t you?’

  ‘Some of them.’ He smiled. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t mind being busy. These last few weeks, though -’ he frowned and shook his head - ‘the whole place has gone crazy.’

  ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘Well, what happened to you tonight was a good example. I mean, this time of year we get a lot of incidents relating to alcohol - fights in discos, people pulled in for drunk and disorderly, criminal damage, that sort of thing. But this year violent incidents have doubled, if not trebled.’

  ‘What do you think’s causing it?’ asked Tegan.

  ‘I don’t know. The heat maybe? It has been hotter than usual this year. And violence, when it starts, tends to spread.’

  Tegan sipped her wine and said reflectively, ‘That guy tonight... just before he drew his arm back to hit me, his eyes went sort of blank. It was weird.’

  Andy nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. ‘Anyway... Look, you’re here on holiday. I shouldn’t be sitting here telling you what a terrible place this is. The last thing I want is to scare you off.’

  ‘Oh, you won’t scare me off,’ said Tegan. ‘I’m a pretty tough cookie.’

  ‘All the same, I hope you’ll let me walk you back to your hotel.’

  ‘Course I will. But let’s have another drink first, eh? My rou
nd.’

  In fact, they had two more drinks. Tegan didn’t realise how much the alcohol had affected her until she stood up. Her head started to spin and she had to concentrate hard to stop herself from stumbling.

  ‘Oh, rabbits,’ she murmured.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Andy, concerned.

  ‘A bit woozy,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had this much to drink.’

  ‘Come on, take my arm,’ he said. ‘A bit of fresh air will do you good.’

  The pub had filled up with people and smoke since Tegan had entered a couple of hours ago. They manoeuvred their way to the door, Tegan holding on to Andy’s arm, and went outside.

  At first the fresh breeze blowing through the narrow streets made her head spin even more. She staggered as if the breeze was strong as a hurricane. Andy slipped his arm around her waist to steady her.

  ‘Whoops,’ she said. ‘I bet you didn’t bank on being lumbered with a drunken Aussie.’

  ‘I’ve got no complaints about the company.’ He grinned.

  ‘Can you walk in a straight line?’

  It was a beautiful night, the air warm, the sky clear and pinpricked with stars. Despite the violent picture Andy had painted, the streets of Tayborough Sands were quiet. They walked down to the seafront, Tegan still holding on to Andy for support. To anyone else they must have looked like lovers sharing a romantic stroll after dinner. They listened to the rushing, gravelly roar of the sea as it swarmed triumphantly over the shore before retreating with a sigh. There were no lights on the beach, and the only way they could distinguish sand from water was by the glittering shards of the moon’s twin bobbing on the sea’s black surface.

  As they meandered along the pavement to the Lombard Hotel, Andy said, ‘Can I see you again?’

  Tegan felt a slow smile stretching her lips, but she tried to keep her voice casual. ‘If you like.’

  He hesitated, then plunged in. ‘How about tomorrow? We could spend the day together. I’m not on duty till six.’

  Tegan found herself wondering briefly what the Doctor’s plans for the next day were, then immediately quashed the thought. ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘Ok, I’ll pick you up from Reception about... nine?’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  They lingered at the hotel steps, unsure how to end it.

  ‘Well... goodnight,’ Tegan said at last, and abruptly thrust her hand out again. ‘Thanks for being my knight in shining armour.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ He took the hand, but this time instead of shaking it he kissed the back of it gently. ‘Until tomorrow,’ he said softly.

  ‘Until tomorrow,’ Tegan repeated, trying desperately not to blush.

  Several hours earlier Mike Yates had opened the door of his attic room to find a complete stranger standing there. The stranger was wearing odd clothes: a cricketing jumper and a long cream coat with a stick of celery attached to the lapel and funny striped trousers. Despite the heat the man looked cool and fresh. As soon as he saw Mike, a huge and delighted grin spread over his face.

  ‘Mike Yates!’ he exclaimed. ‘How wonderful to see you again!’

  Mike frowned, puzzled and a little wary. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘Oh, many times,’ said the stranger as if he was enjoying himself hugely, ‘though not since I regenerated.’

  ‘Regenerated? You don’t mean... You’re not the Doctor?’

  ‘Yes!’ cried the man as if Mike was a rather dim pupil who had just grasped a basic mathematical formula.

  Both the Doctor and the Brigadier had explained the fundamentals of regeneration to him, but Mike had not realised how drastic the change could be. ‘But you’re... so different,’ he said weakly.

  ‘Oh, I’m still the same old Doctor underneath,’ the Doctor said airily. ‘May I come in?’

  Mike was about to step back and pull the door wide when he paused. ‘How do I know you’re the Doctor? How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?’

  The Doctor blinked. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe you want to get to the real Doctor through me. You could be the Master for all I know.’

  The Doctor flinched and his voice became a little high-pitched with indignation. ‘Please! I’ve never been so insulted.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Mike, ‘It’s just... you’re so different. You don’t seem as...’

  ‘Arrogant? Overbearing?’

  Mike shrugged embarrassedly. ‘You said it.’

  ‘Yes, well,’ said the Doctor, nonplussed, ‘when one matures, one irons out these little foibles.’

  ‘Matures?’ said Mike. ‘But you look so much younger!’

  ‘Appearances can be deceptive, you know.’

  ‘My point exactly,’ said Mike triumphantly.

  The Doctor sighed. ‘The thing about regeneration is that it’s something of a lottery. But whatever I look like, I’m still fundamentally the same underneath. How can I convince you of that?’

  Before Mike could reply, the Doctor’s eyes widened. ‘What date is it?’ he asked.

  Puzzled, Mike told him.

  The Doctor gazed into the middle distance as if looking back through time. ‘So you’ve not been back on active duty for long. You’ve been recovering from the events at Llanfairfach.’

  Mike frowned. ‘Go on.’

  The Doctor snapped out of his semi-trance. ‘How are you feeling now, Mike?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘No ill-effects?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  The Doctor looked at him strangely, reached out and patted him on the forearm. ‘You’re a good man, Mike. I’ve always thought so.’

  ‘Thanks, but I don’t -’

  Breathlessly the Doctor said, ‘BOSS took you over. I brought you back with a blue crystal from Metebelis Three. I sent the crystal to Jo for a wedding present.’ His hand dipped into his pocket and he produced a small card which he handed to Mike. ‘My UNIT pass. Now I wouldn’t let this fall into the wrong hands, would I? The Brigadier would have my guts for garters.’

  Mike took the card and looked at it perfunctorily before handing it back. Smiling he said, ‘All right, Doctor, let’s say I believe you.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘Splendid. Then we can get down to business.’

  Mike ushered the Doctor in, then crossed to the bed and sat down. The Doctor wandered around the small room as if restless, hands in the pockets of his striped trousers. ‘So what caused you to regenerate?’ Mike asked.

  The Doctor swung round from his contemplation of a rather poorly-executed print of a sailing yacht hanging above the dressing table. ‘Hmm?’

  Mike repeated his question.

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, and crossed the room to sit in the armchair beneath the alcoved window. ‘It’s rather complicated. You see, since you last saw me I’ve regenerated twice. But that doesn’t mean you’ve seen the last of the me that you know. I’m just popping in while I’m away, so to speak. The next me to arrive will be the old me with no knowledge of the new me - presuming that none of the other mes drop in in the meantime, of course.’

  Mike looked at the Doctor deadpan for a moment, and then said, ‘Thank you. That makes everything perfectly clear.’

  His ironic tone seemed lost on the Doctor, who looked at him keenly. ‘Tell me about the light that Mr Elkins saw.’

  ‘You know about that?’ said Mike.

  ‘I’ve been doing some investigating.’

  Mike pulled a dismissive face. ‘Load of rubbish, if you ask me. The man’s an old soak. Probably fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. ‘You saw the bodies on the fishing boat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I understand their injuries were rather severe?’

  Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s putting it mildly. Apart from one chap who looked as if he’d had half his throat torn out, there were only bits left behind.’
<
br />   ‘Indeed,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. ‘And what could cause that degree of damage, do you think? An aquatic mammal, perhaps ?’

  ‘Well... I don’t know. The police seem to think one of the men went berserk and killed the others.’

  ‘Is that possible? Given the injuries you saw?’

  Mike looked dubious, but paused before replying. ‘Those men were torn apart, Doctor. Not cut or chopped. Torn. If one of the crew did kill the others, he did it with his bare hands.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said the Doctor. ‘In which case a much more likely supposition would be that the men were killed by whatever came out of the vessel that Mr Elkins saw land in the sea. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  Mike pulled a face. ‘The thought had crossed my mind. But old Elkins seems such an unreliable witness I’m reluctant to involve the Brigadier until I’ve got more evidence. I don’t want to haul half of UNIT up here only for them to find they’re faced with nothing but an old drunk and a local squabble.

  You know, first day back on the job and all that.’

  The Doctor nodded his understanding and said slyly, ‘Is it really necessary to involve UNIT at all? I’ve never been overkeen on the military marching about, upsetting everyone.

  I’m sure if we put our heads together the two of us could sort this matter out without any fuss.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor,’ said Mike, ‘but I’m answerable to the Brigadier. I have to inform him about what’s going on.’

  For a moment the Doctor looked like a little boy who has been refused a packet of sweets. ‘Well, if you must, you must,’ he said. He thought of the alien mind he had briefly touched earlier that day, and sighed.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ asked Mike.

  ‘I think I just might have the extra evidence you need,’ the Doctor said.

  Tegan didn’t realise she was still angry until the Doctor popped his head out of the door of his room as she was unlocking hers.

  ‘You missed dinner,’ he said, the note of indignation in his voice immediately causing her to bridle.

  ‘I wasn’t hungry,’ she replied tersely, determined that he wouldn’t spoil what had turned out to be a lovely evening.