Autonomy

by Doctor Who

  Max Carson was enjoying a tea break.

  'English tea, Miss Devonshire,' he said, sipping from the bone china cup. 'One of life's few genuine little pleasures.'

  His voice echoed around the vast, echoing chamber on Level Zero.

  Miss Devonshire sat, legs crossed, in her leather swivel-chair, which appeared to be the only item of furniture in the vast space. She was, as usual, immaculate in her skirt, jacket, crisp white blouse and shiny, calf-length boots. Her rimless glasses shone under the dim, greenish lighting.

  Plastinol-2,' said Miss Devonshire. 'It worked on the journalist woman, Andrea. It worked exactly as it was meant to. Reading the structure of her DNA and replicating itself. Given a boost of energy, there's no reason why Plastinol-2 couldn't do so on a wider scale." Miss Devonshire smiled, and peered at him over her glasses. Tell me about the test activations?'

  He smiled apologetically. Things got... a little livelier than 113

  DOCTOR WHO

  we'd anticipated. As you know, we had some rogue units.

  Beta-4 is still on the loose, but my people are on it.'

  Miss Devonshire pressed her elegant, red-nailed fingers together. 'And Max - when can we expect the Central Program to be ready?'

  There's still a good forty-eight hours' work to be done for it to run in a stable fashion. Then it needs to be tested—'

  Miss Devonshire held her hand up. 'What if it were to run within twelve hours, Max?'

  Max Carson stopped pacing, put his cup down on his saucer and stared at her. That would have... interesting workload repercussions,' he admitted.

  'But it could be done?'

  'Yes - in theory - but the testing...'

  Miss Devonshire got to her feet and strolled over to face Max, eye-to-eye. She raised her elegant eyebrows. 'It will be tested when it runs, Max. I grow weary.'

  She turned, and looked for the first time at the source of the soft green light in the hangar.

  'I grow weary,' she repeated, 'and so does the Consciousness.'

  One vast wall of the chamber bulged inwards, the convex bump translucent and phosphorescent. As Max and Miss Devonshire watched, it pulsed and a low, shuddering sound - very like a growl - echoed through the space, the sound shaking the walls and reverberating in Max's eardrums.

  Miss Devonshire rounded angrily on him. Twelve hours, Max. The Central Program comes online before dawn.'

  That'll be difficult,' Max insisted again.

  Miss Devonshire pursed her lips. 'But not impossible.'

  Max nodded reluctantly.

  114

  AUTONOMY

  A wide, red smile flashed across Miss Devonshire's face, and vanished almost in the same instant. 'Good. Then the moment is almost at hand.'

  She strode to the wall, reaching out her hands, softly caressing the pulsating bump as if it were the face of a child. The green light filled the lenses of her glasses.

  Tonight's little diversion is all ready?'

  Max nodded. 'All the pieces are in place.'

  That will be the final trial. And then,' Miss Devonshire whispered, 'the time of flesh on this paltry planet will be at an end, and a new era will be upon us... The age of plastic.

  The Nestenes in all their forms will rise up, gain strength, eradicate all pathetic attempts to oppose their dominance.

  And from here - from this world so rich in oils and nutrients and gels and plastics - they will establish a base from which to rise up and conquer.'

  She broke away, lowering her hands, and snapped her head round to face Max.

  'But first,' she added with a smile, 'do finish your tea.'

  Max smiled nervously, and sipped.

  Kate and the Doctor had followed the guards through the luxurious foyer of the Hyperville Hotel, and up to Floor Seven, just in time to see the armed squad clattering down the corridor towards one particular door.

  Kate was about to follow them, but the Doctor pulled her back, making her wait for a few seconds behind a laundry trolley. Only when he was ready did he saunter out into the corridor, hands in pockets, looking as if he owned the place.

  The door to room 776 was open. Kate could see a plush, blue-carpeted lounge, where a woman in a bathrobe was 115

  DOCTOR WHO

  sobbing on a big, curved white leather couch. Nervously, Kate stepped inside. One of the security men noticed her and held her back.

  'I don't think you'd better, miss.'

  Kate flipped her badge up so the man could read it.

  'Access All Areas, it says. From Sir Gerry himself.'

  'Yes, miss,' said the security man awkwardly, 'but I don't think he means you to see this.'

  The Doctor, however, was already inside, peering over the guards' shoulders at the prone form on the floor.

  'It's Derek!' he said in astonishment.

  Six snub-nosed machine guns were thrust under the Doctor's chin. He backed off, holding up his hands. 'All right, all right. No need to get like that. I know this man.

  Please let me see him.'

  Tricia broke off from her sobbing and looked up, peering through her hands at the Doctor. 'It's you,' she said, uncertainly. 'Do you know what happened to Derek?'

  The Doctor gulped. 'Well, if these gentlemen could let me have a look, I might be able to say.' He raised his eyebrows hopefully. 'I am a doctor,' he added. The Doctor. Sir Gerry knows me. Check with Captain Tilbrook.'

  The leader of the squad glowered at the Doctor for a second and then muttered into the radio-link on his collar.

  The Doctor gave Kate an encouraging look, and she smiled nervously.

  'Well?' the Doctor asked.

  The man nodded, and the Doctor leaned down beside the inert body of Derek, peering at him with a magnifying glass.

  Kate peered over his shoulder, not wanting to look too closely. She'd not seen a dead body before — not a human one,

  116

  AUTONOMY

  anyway. She remembered when her dog had died when she was 10, and that had been traumatic enough.

  'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' The Doctor straightened up, looking uncomfortably over at Tricia.

  On the other side of the room, Tricia had her face in her hands. 'We was going to do so much,' she wailed. 'Had a cruise booked for next year. And painting the living room.'

  Her hand went up to her mouth and she shook, tears streaming down her face. 'We had such a job deciding between Ocean Breeze and Coral Beauty. Now he'll never get to see it. Oh, Derek.'

  She was led out by two of the guards.

  The Doctor looked up at the ceiling directly above Derek's inert form. 'Now, I wonder how that got there?'

  'What?' Kate asked.

  The Doctor nodded to the burliest security man. 'Give me a hand, would you? Lift up?'

  The man looked at his superior, who gave him a grudging nod. He got down on one knee, forming a firm lattice with his thick fingers, and the Doctor, nodding gratefully, stepped onto it with one foot.

  'Much obliged!' said the Doctor. 'And lift!'

  With the burly security guard supporting his foot, the Doctor peered at the marks he had found on the ceiling of the lounge. He pulled a specimen jar and a spatula from his capacious pockets and scraped at the surface, scratching off some of whatever he had found into the jar.

  'All right, big feller! Back down we go!'

  The Doctor hopped back down to ground level and slipped the specimen jar into his pocket.

  'Right then, everyone!,' he said. This man's been murdered. Strangled. I suggest you seal off the area. You're looking for

  117

  DOCTOR WHO

  an assailant with an incredibly powerful grip, the ability to move extremely fast, and also to hang upside-down from the ceiling. Oh, and wearing size 12 shoes. That's a child's size 12, by the way.'

  'A child?' said a familiar voice from the doorway. Captain Tess Tilbrook strode in and faced the Doctor. 'Doctor, you're not seriously suggesting the assailant was a child?'

  'N
o, Captain Tilbrook,' said the Doctor quietly.

  'Something worse.'

  She frowned. 'What, then? A dwarf?'

  'Something like that.' The Doctor's expression, Kate noticed, had turned from flippant to hard and cold within the space of a second. 'A homicidal homunculus.'

  Tess stared at the Doctor for a moment. Kate knew she was sizing up whether he was mad, or deadly serious.

  I’ll get Sir Gerry to evacuate Hyperville,' she said.

  'No, no, no.' The Doctor shook his head firmly. That will only cause panic, and panic can get people killed.

  Especially if the Nestenes realise we're on to them and start moving earlier than planned... What kind of weapons have your people got?'

  Tess looked at him curiously. 'Why do you ask?'

  I’m just asking myself if they're going to be enough.

  That's all.' The Doctor looked upwards again. 'I wonder where it went?... Aha!' He leapt up onto the back of the couch and tapped on a black grille high in the wall.

  'Ventilation duct! Well, I'm not getting in there. But I bet that's where it went.' To Kate's astonishment, he pulled his sonic device out and shone it inside, using its blue light like a torch.

  'I thought you gave that to Sir Gerry?' she said.

  'What I gave to Sir Gerry,' said the Doctor, peering intently

  118

  AUTONOMY

  into the ventilation duct, 'was a portable immersion heater.' He shot her a quick grin. 'Very good for warming up coffee in thirty seconds.'

  Kate folded her arms and shook her head in wonderment. 'He'll find out! So where did you get that from? Planet Zog?'

  'No. Argos,' the Doctor said, his voice still thoughtful, as he hopped back down to floor level.

  less Tilbrook had been looking from one of them to the other, trying to speak. 'Doctor, you said it just now. As if the murderer isn't human.'

  'Oh, it isn't,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'Not remotely human.' He gave Tess a hard, serious look. 'Hunt it down.

  Find it. Before it finds anybody else.'

  'And what are you going to do?'

  'I need to find out properly what else is going on here.

  Look, is there... is there anywhere in Hyperville that the public are prevented from going?'

  Tess Tilbrook shrugged. 'Sure. Hundreds of service tunnels, maintenance areas, storage floors... Where do you start?'

  'Anywhere you can't go? Anywhere just Max Carson or Miss Devonshire can access, for example?'

  'Not that I know of. But this place is the size of a small city.'

  The Doctor nodded. 'All right. Keep Sir Gerry informed.

  Not Mr Carson -I don't trust him. Be careful. The Nestenes can pull all sorts of tricks. They can even make plastic facsimiles of human beings. Come on, Kate... Kate?'

  Her phone was beeping, and she was checking texts. I need to meet up with Sir Gerry,' she said. 'We've all got a rendezvous in two hours.'

  'Better be there, then,' said the Doctor. 'I've got a few errands to take care of

  119

  DOCTOR WHO

  'How do I know I can trust you, Doctor?' Tess Tilbrook called after him.

  He stopped in the doorway. 'I deactivated the Snow Queen, didn't I? Without that, two of your men would be dead. At least... Look, do something for me. Help Mrs Stanford find her children.'

  'Children?'

  'She has two teenage children. Reece and Chantelle. Get them all put into another suite.'

  'Anything else?' Tess asked sarcastically.

  'Actually, yes.' The Doctor turned on one heel and, hands in pockets, asked, 'Do you know where I might be able to get a dinner jacket?'

  120

  SEVEN

  Miss Devonshire, cool and immaculate, strode into Central Control and leaned down beside Max's chair.

  The room had a muted, orange glow at this time of night, with just a minimal staff of five operatives at the consoles below the curved wall of screens.

  'Which Oculator do you have the casino on?' she asked.

  Max nodded. 'Screen Seven,' he said. 'Magnify, please.'

  The screen in front of Max and Miss Devonshire blossomed into life, showing the opulence of the Aura Casino three levels below the ShopZone. Balconies with gaming tables were rapidly filling up with elaborately costumed guests, while chandeliers glittered in the soft red light.

  'Is everything ready?' she asked in her soft, husky tones.

  He didn't look up at her, but smiled. 'Everything's ready.'

  She came over to him, and stood beside him. 'You still have your doubts, Max.'

  121

  DOCTOR WHO

  He didn't look at her, but shivered a little. 'You know my position, Elizabeth. I don't like it, but I'm interested in what you have offered me. That's why I'm doing this. The only reason.'

  She pouted a little. 'For Barbados. For your retirement.

  Yes, Maxie-waxie, I believe you. You're the misguided, honourable man. Well, if that's how you want to play it...'

  He turned and glared at her, annoyed. 'Look, I don't really care about your creepy employers, or their dodgy morality. I work for Sir Gerry, and he's a decent man. And all I know is, what I've been offered is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You may not appreciate that, Elizabeth, because Daddy owned land and sent you to a private school.'

  She sighed, put her hands on her hips. 'Playing the poor little English guy card again?'

  'It's not a card,' said Max irritably. He turned away from her again, pretending to survey the screens so he didn't have to look at her. 'I thought I'd wasted my life. But now look at me. My father would have been proud of me for making Carson Polymers a success.'

  Miss Devonshire laughed. She put her face up close to Max's and spoke very quietly. 'Carson Polymers,' she said,

  'was just one more tin-pot company going to the damn wall. You'd be nothing without me, Max. Nothing.' She drew back from him, nodding in satisfaction. 'Just you remember that.'

  Max Carson didn't answer.

  But his eyes were cold and resolute.

  Shaneeqi looked around the glittering Aura Casino at all the people who had come to worship her.

  Ruched curtains fell at intervals, in great shimmering 122

  AUTONOMY

  waterfalls of velvet, from high above the balcony where Shaneeqi stood. They fell past the thronged gaming balconies and down to the chequered dance floor below.

  Six huge, glittering chandeliers hung suspended, catching the subtle red lighting and reflecting it. Soft classical music played in the background. On the floor far below, white-gloved waiters and waitresses circled smoothly and discreetly, dispensing flutes of champagne and elegant canapés: twists of filo pastry stuffed with salmon and herbs, melt-in-the mouth triangles of crispbread and caviar, tiny globes of melon hand-rolled in crunchy bacon.

  Shaneeqi, amused, watched the whirl of air-kissing and embracing, the flouncing of frills, the twirling of canes and the tottering on high heels. She caught odd snatches of conversation. 'I just had to come here,' said a tipsy young woman in a short red dress, who was also sporting red fingernails and red heels. 'Hyperville is just so wonderful, it's like a dream come true. I broke my credit card out of the ice-block to be here.' Her circle of admirers chortled jauntily. The guests, in flamboyant costumes from throughout the ages, milled, chatted and laughed. The casino was rapidly filling up.

  'I want something discreet,' Shaneeqi had told the Hyperville people, 'but kind of ostentatious at the same time. I know you'll get it right.' And they had. It was as if they had read her mind.

  If there was one thing Shaneeqi loved in life, it was being Shaneeqi.

  She hadn't always been, of course. She remembered when she had been plain old Shannon Eyam. The girl whose teachers had told her she was stupid and that she'd never

  123

  DOCTOR WHO

  add up to much. 'It's no good thinking you're going to be a pop-star, Shannon Eyam,' her headmistress had said to her sternly. 'Y
ou need to be thinking about qualifications.

  Getting a proper job.' But Shannon hadn't left school with any qualifications worth speaking of- and employers hadn't been falling over themselves for someone with a D in Food Technology and an E in Leisure; and Tourism. She hadn't been allowed to take Music, which she knew she was good at, because of 'timetabling problems'. So she'd spent two years on the dole, hanging round the estate, smoking and causing low-level trouble.

  But then there had been Ted, the youth worker, who'd seen something in her and got her organising activities with the disaffected kids. Then, that same year, the Lottery money had come through for a new youth centre with its DJ-ing and recording booth — and Shannon Eyam had really started doing something with her life.

  She sang and DJ'd in clubs for a couple of years. Then she went up for Sing It on one of the cable channels, and got into the final ten. She was noticed by a sleazy producer

  - she soon got rid of him - and then by a good guy, Mike, who was cool and wanted to be her manager. And things slowly took off. A download first, a retro white-label pressing next, club gigs up and down the country with the material she and Mike had been writing - songs, real songs with a dash of techno and R'n'B - and then it had happened. Shaneeqi was suddenly in demand. 'Overnight sensation', they called her in the press, although she knew it was so much more than that, and harder work than they made it seem.

  The touring was a killer. City after city, hotel room after hotel room, one tiny radio studio after another with DJs who

  124

  AUTONOMY

  hadn't really listened to her work and didn't really know who she was. She was starting to wonder if it was all worth it when she'd met Paul Kendrick at a charity do, just after he'd split up with his long-term girlfriend. And they clicked, just as her career went stratospheric. One million downloads for her third single, huge advance orders for the Shaneeqi In Blue album, a sixteen-date European tour.