by Mark Speed
“Yes, and there’s David making light of carnivorous garbage cans. This, for your information, David, was done by one of three polyps that escaped from the Rindan consul’s residence after eating her and her husband.”
“But they’re not allowed –”
“Exactly. That’s what I said. These are the fourth and fifth persons to be killed. Actually, the first was a Circarian. Illegal migrant. Nothing left of him. Tim got that polyp. Remember Tim?”
“Tim? They’re still alive? Good for them.”
“Anyway, the Rindans are pinning the blame for their losses on me. They’ve moved their consul’s residence out of Du Cane Court and into some place run by the Circarians. Of course, they don’t know that the Circarians aren’t exactly best pleased that one of their chaps was killed by a polyp that their previous consul introduced illegally. I can’t vouch for the safety of the new Rindan consul in the Circarian place, but they’re citing a ‘loss of faith’ clause in respect of their safety and Dolt is – needless to say – backing them. Meantime, we’ve had two humans killed on Saturday, and then these two MI6 agents. The deaths of two civilians I can handle. It’s the MI6 goons that are going to cause the problems.”
“I’m not sure I get it,” said Kevin.
“You only have to look at the gist of the communications, lad. Look – these guys now think they’re at war.” A précis of the messages buzzing around from MI6 and the Met Police scrolled across the bottom of the projection.
“From the looks of it, the reason they think that is because someone put out some confidential pictures all over the internet simultaneously,” said Where. “What sort of idiot would do that?”
“Um, we thought it might be a good idea,” said Kevin.
“I take executive responsibility for the decision,” said How. “With the information we had at the time it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I’ll bet,” said Where.
“Looks like that Thicky guy is on the case,” said Kevin. The projection had changed to the interior of Sir Adrian Brown’s office. He now took it for granted that the Spectrel could hack its way into anything – even the office of the head of MI6. “That’s some compensation. Oh, and that woman, Camilla Peterson. She’s lovely.”
“Put your hormones away, lad – she’s not interested in you. Thicky’s determined. And he’s so stupid he’s dangerous. Never underestimate the power of stupidity.”
“So what are you doing about the polyps?” asked Where.
“Trini came within a hair’s breadth of killing the second one, but it got to a couple of urban explorers first. The photo was just sheer bad luck – it appears the polyp stood on the button of a camera as it was escaping. Tim have been on guard at the exit to the Thames so neither of the polyps can escape from the sewers. That’s not far from the MI6 building.”
“You can’t let them keep killing humans.”
“Thank you for that guidance, David. I realise that. We now know exactly where the second polyp is and I’ve already taken action. I’ve just asked Tim to see if he can split up. Some of Tim will remain on guard and the rest of them will go to the MI6 building to try to kill that second polyp.”
“You gotta go after the last polyp,” said Where.
“I’d much prefer it if you started referring to this situation in the third person plural. Can you state that we have to go after that last polyp?”
“Hang about – I ain’t the one who rents out property to out-of-towners, and it wasn’t me who let the Rindans grow those bleedin’ polyps in the first place.”
“As Time Keepers, the security of out-of-towners is our collective responsibility. And I didn’t choose to have some giant beetles hack your Spectrel and try to annihilate you. Maybe – just maybe – if I wasn’t carrying the can for the whole team, then I could concentrate on the smaller problems before they blow up into larger ones.”
“Alright, alright. I take your point, cuz. You laid it on the line for me, and I appreciate that. But I don’t want to go down no sewer.”
“I’m not sure you’d fit.”
“You what?”
“I said I’m not sure you’re fit yet. For the exercise.” The Doctor gave his cousin a much larger smile than was needed. “There’s also the question of these things.” He pointed to the plastic flower.
Where picked up the flower and examined it. “You know I hate tat like this. There’s no… no teeth or anything like that. And it’s a time-based threat, so far as I understand your explanation. Much more Walter’s sort of gig, you know?”
“Good,” said How, folding his arms and leaning back against his control console. “So let’s just summarise then. You’re back on board with the team and we’ve discovered what you don’t want to do – namely the two things that actually need doing.”
“Aw, Pete. I’m just off me death bed. And the last time I did something like this was getting on for fifty years ago. Cut me some slack, will ya?”
Doctor How shook his head and pushed back off the console. “Hmph. Well I suppose we’d better start by seeing how things are between you and your Spectrel. Come on.”
The three of them left Doctor How’s Spectrel. Trinity was happy to stay, and disappeared into the main body of the ship. Kevin had never seen her private room, and wondered what it would be like. Did she sleep on a web or in a cat basket?
They stepped out into Doctor How’s basement in Streatham Hill.
Where’s Spectrel was one quarter of her normal size as a London black cab, backed into a corner with her front out at forty-five degrees. At that size the vehicle looked like an expensive toy car designed for a rich child.
Where took a step forward away from his two companions and glanced nervously back at Doctor How.
“Hello, darling,” he said, addressing his Spectrel. “Sorry about…” He looked at his feet and shook his head. “Sorry about everything. Years of it.”
He shuffled forward a little in his slippers and dressing gown. His Spectrel made no movement. He took a couple more steps towards the vehicle and then crouched down, putting his head level with the top of the roof. Tentatively, he reached out his hand to the badge above the radiator grille, keeping it a couple of inches above. Kevin noticed that there was a distinct tremble in it. He wondered whether it was nicotine cravings or nerves.
Slowly, Where brought the palm of his hand down and placed it on the badge. After a couple of seconds he breathed an audible sigh of relief. He fell onto his knees, closed his eyes, put his other arm over the bonnet of the car and wept. His chest heaved, and he began sobbing uncontrollably. The Spectrel remained as she was.
“Let’s give them five minutes to themselves,” said the Doctor quietly. “Give me a hand with these.” He indicated the two cardboard boxes of plastic flowers.
They each picked up a box and tiptoed into the red telephone box. Once inside the Spectrel the Doctor raised his voice to normal levels again. “I know you’re very fond of David. And he does have a certain charm… what you would call the common touch. But… I suppose you could say he’s very human in his fallibilities.” He put his box down in front of the control console and motioned for Kevin to do the same.
“I do like him, Doc. Like my Mum would say – he’s got a good heart in him.” Kevin put the box of plastic flowers on top of the first.
The Doctor laughed. “Courtesy of the med-bots, one of his hearts is completely new. I just hope his brain recovers to the same extent as his body.”
“What are you going to do with these?”
“The flowers? The Spectrel will make a further examination. I’m glad we’ve got a large sample.” The two boxes vanished at right angles to Kevin’s point of view. Given that they were slightly apart, and that he was viewing them from above, it looked as if they were passing through the floor of the Specrel and going to different places – though he knew they were just leaving his three-dimensional perception. “I’ve sent one to When. The others are in the lab now. Technically, co
mpletely separate from the rest of the Spectrel. An area – more of a volume, really – opened up in another dimension. An atom bomb could go off in there and we’d not be touched.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Supernovae. Know what they are?”
“Sure – it’s when a star explodes at the end of its life. They’re where all the heavy elements are created.”
“Excellent. Ever been damaged by one?”
“Of course not – they’re light years away. Hundreds, maybe thousands of light years away.”
“Well that’s exactly the way the lab works. Except that it isn’t at all. It’s more like a room that exists as a bubble in another dimension. It’s not just that it’s in another dimension – one that we don’t even have a presence in – it’s that it’s a bubble that would instantly collapse to nothing. So the explosion wouldn’t even take place because it literally wouldn’t even exist.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“Better keep studying hard for that Ph.D. in Astrophysics, then.”
“I’d much prefer some Con-Bat practice. Take some of the aggression out, you know?”
“Be careful what you wish for, lad.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Am I going to get some action?”
The Doctor smiled and ruffled Kevin’s short afro hair. “Come on. Let’s see how the big fellah’s getting on, shall we?”
When they went back out into the basement Where was still sprawled over the bonnet of the black cab. He became aware of their presence and got back up onto his feet. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the dressing gown. Then he patted his wet eyes with a sleeve. “I’m a sentimental old bugger, me,” he said, his voice husky. “I think we’re going to be alright now.” He held his palms out and made eye contact sheepishly with his two companions. “Look at me,” he said, forcing out a chuckle. “I need to get some decent togs on. Get back to work.”
“When you figure out what that is,” said the Doctor.
“Yeah. Yes. I do want to be back on the team. Like the old days, Peter.” He placed his hand on the badge of his shrunken Spectrel. “I need to get meself sorted out first. Otherwise I’m just dead weight. I don’t wanna be a burden on ya.”
Doctor How nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly said, “Oh!” He motioned to his own Spectrel, which disappeared at right angles, causing a disturbance as the air rushed into the hole it left. “You need a bit of room. The pair of you.”
“Ta very much,” said Where. He stepped a few feet to the side and his Spectrel grew back to her full size, stretching out from the corner of the basement. He patted the badge and smiled. “Right,” he said. “I’ll be in touch then.” He shook How’s hand, and then offered his hand to Kevin, who grabbed him in a hug.
“Don’t be a stranger, Dave,” said Kevin.
Where hugged him back tightly and rocked Kevin on his feet. When he pulled back he took Kevin’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I won’t let you down, son. I swear.”
Then he turned and went to the driver’s door of the cab and clasped the handle, holding it silently and thoughtfully for a few seconds. Then he pulled it and the door swung open. He moved around and put a leg into the cab, then hesitated. He looked over and smiled at How and Kevin. “See you in a bit,” he said and disappeared inside. A second later the vehicle vanished into the distance at right angles, causing more air to rush down the stairs into the basement.
It was Kevin who spoke first, after a few moments.
“You think he’ll be back?”
“Of course. His Spectrel will hold him to account. Aside from that, he wants to hear your account of your first… rumble, as he called it.”
“I’m glad he gave up the smokes. That shows some kind of resolve, doesn’t it?”
“Do you think so? I’d say that giving up cigarettes is pretty easy when you’re unconscious and sedated, and med-bots are pumping you full of anti-addiction drugs.” Kevin gave him a withering look. “Just saying.”
“You shouldn’t cut him down so much, Doc. Give him a break. He obviously finds this stuff difficult.”
“If you think it’s easy for me, then you have to be joking.”
“Aw, Doc – I didn’t mean it like that.”
The bright red telephone box reappeared, blowing back some of the air in the confined space.
“Come on, lad.” He put an arm around Kevin’s shoulder and guided him towards the Spectrel. “It’s just you, me and Trini against the forces of evil. Oh, and Tim. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not saying, but if you like Chinese food then you’re in luck.”
Kevin smiled. The door of the Spectrel swung open and he stepped in ahead of the Doctor.
“Like, I take it I’m not going to need a passport, am I?”
“Hmm?”
“For China?”
“Of course not. Now, I’ve got some checks to do to make sure my Spectrel’s okay.”
“Like pre-flight checks?”
“You could say that. Now, if you’d like to sit over there and keep out of mischief, then we’ll be on our way.” The Doctor busied himself at the control panel, watching a projection of characters in what Kevin now recognised as Squill. He watched the script scroll past with the eye of a canny amateur computer programmer.
“Can I ask you a question, Doc?”
“If you must.”
“Why didn’t you intervene in stuff like the Kennedy assassination? I mean, I can understand that you’re not supposed to interfere with history and timelines and stuff, but Kennedy seemed like he was a pretty good guy. Surely the world would have been better off if he’d not died so young?” He took a bite from the Jamaican chicken patty the house-bot had delivered without him even having ordered another one. He wondered whether the house-bots now had an algorithm for his appetite, and knew better than he did what his needs were.
“We did intervene,” said Doctor How, who was deeply engrossed in the projection, which was now showing diagrams that were beyond Kevin’s comprehension. “Or, rather, I had to.”
“What?” Kevin coughed as he tried not to choke. “So, like, there really was a conspiracy?”
“Oh, you and your conspiracies. Give it a rest, lad.”
“But you just said you intervened in the Kennedy assassination!”
“Yes, but it wasn’t a conspiracy. It’s like I told you about aliens when you first became my assistant – it’s not a conspiracy if your government doesn’t even know they exist because they’re not conspiring to hide anything. They’re just bad at their jobs. Most governments are. Pick a civilisation anywhere in the Pleasant universe,” he swept his hand through the projection, “and you’ll find a useless government at its heart.”
“Well?”
“What do you mean ‘Well?’” asked the Doctor.
“You can’t just tell me you were involved in the Kennedy assassination and then leave it at that, Doc!”
The Doctor broke his gaze from the coding and looked over at Kevin. “I can if I like.”
“Well I’ll ask someone else then – one of your cousins.”
“They had nothing to do with it.”
“So who was there?”
“Yes, he was.”
“What?”
“No, he wasn’t there. Who was.”
“That’s what I was asking.”
“No. Pay attention, lad. Who and I were there.”
“Um, right. You and Who were there?”
“Yes, that’s what I keep trying to tell you. At times I really do wonder about you.”
Kevin rolled his eyes. “So, like, what happened?”
The Doctor sighed a long sigh and got up from the Spectrel’s control panel. “I don’t want to paint my brother in a bad light, but you’ll find out the truth sooner or later. The fact that Kennedy was assassinated in November 1963 should at least give you a clue.”
“Um, it doesn’t help that you go ba
nanas whenever I bring up the subject of you-know-who and that show.”
“I’m sorry. I know I can be over-sensitive. He’s my brother, and I love him. But the legacy of trouble he’s caused me in the last fifty years has hardly endeared him to me. The others… They chose to abdicate their responsibilities, but my brother…” The Doctor shook his head. “I only wish he had. It would have been far easier to carry on alone than have him work against me – against all that each one of us had worked towards.”
“You never explained what that is.”
The Doctor waved his question away. “Some other time. As our adventures progress it should become apparent to you. Right now you should appreciate that I’m giving you what they call expositional narrative.”
“What?”
“It means I’m about to tell you a story that explains things. Technically, we have all the time in the world, so why not? You’ve earned the right to know why we went our separate ways. Or, rather, why the others relinquished their responsibilities.” The Doctor turned off the projection, sat down and settled back into his chair and began to talk.
I’ve told you previously that I viewed the world as having entered a new and more dangerous age after the Second World War, after humanity’s failure to harness nuclear power for peaceful purposes. The Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962 confirmed that, but my brother and my cousins took its peaceful conclusion as evidence that you humans didn’t need our help any more. My brother was always somewhat manic, but the release of pressure sent his mania spiralling up to new heights. That was when he told his story – our story – to the BBC. Of course, none of us knew he’d done that until the series of Doctor Who was in the can and scheduled for broadcast. We knew about the Kennedy assassination in the timeline, and so far as we were concerned it accounted for all the anomalies in late November 1963. We couldn’t have been more wrong.
It was your fellow junk television addict Where who contacted me to say he’d seen a trailer for Doctor Who, and that the first episode was to be broadcast at teatime on Saturday 23rd November. We, the Time Keepers, were to be laid bare – albeit as fiction. I was straight on to my brother, demanding to see the scripts, to gauge the extent of the damage. He refused to let me into his Spectrel, so I settled for arguing with his full projection just in front of me, right here.