Dr. Who - BBC New Series 28

by Beautiful Chaos # Gary Russell

  Wilf shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, Doctor.’

  Donna walked over. ‘Granddad, I think Netty could do

  with some support against that mad old witch’s opinions on a woman’s place in modern society.’

  Wilf nodded. ‘Cheers, Doctor. I hope you’re wrong by the way.’ And he wandered off.

  ‘What was that all about then, sunshine? You upsetting my gramps?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, Donna, not at all. He’s got me thinking about coincidence and causality.’ He glanced over at Netty. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Not sure. She just drifted off for a while but then she just seemed to wake up, all smiles and dragged me back here.’

  ‘It happens, I’m afraid,’ he said, still observing her as she slipped an arm around Wilf’s waist. ‘And don’t forget, she’s used to it herself.’

  Donna tapped his hand. ‘And there’s something else. In the bar. That good-looking bloke who showed us in earlier?’

  ‘Gianni?’

  ‘Yeah, him. He was going on about someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dunno, I wasn’t sure he was even speaking at first but it seemed to be something about a man licking a mad dolphin.’

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘Could be anything. Probably had too much to drink himself.’

  ‘Or working with these people has sent him nutty,’

  Donna grinned. ‘Oh well. Not sure why you’d lick a mad dolphin, though.’

  The Doctor laughed. ‘Nor me. We should think of

  heading off soon, though.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Something to do with a very old and dangerous alien entity suspended not far above your planet that is unlikely to be there sightseeing.’

  ‘How dangerous?’

  ‘Well, it’ll be waiting for something like a lunar eclipse which, looking at the moon tonight, doesn’t seem especially imminent.’

  ‘There’s always the Triple Conjunction.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Gramps told me about it, it’s why they’re all so excited by his discovery of that new star. This is the International Year of Astronomy, and they’re all waiting to see the first triple conjunction between Jupiter and Neptune.’

  Donna was quite proud that she’d retained all that information, but the Doctor was legging it across the room to Doctor Crossland. ‘The Triple Conjunction,’ he yelled.

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘This year, yes? But when this year?’

  Crossland sighed. ‘I thought you were supposed to be clever?’

  ‘I am. But, like all clever people, I can only learn things when people give me straight answers to straight questions and not sarcasm.’

  Doctor Crossland looked triumphant. He had outsmarted the Doctor. ‘Well, if you knew as much about astronomy as you say, you’d know it’s ongoing. It started

  a while back.’

  ‘When the Chaos Body was first sighted?’

  ‘I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘And when does it hit its peak?’

  ‘It’s why we’re having this dinner, Doctor. The main event occurs on Monday, about three o’clock in the afternoon, local time.’

  ‘You appear to be looking very smug, Doctor Crossland,’ the Doctor said, ‘for a man who may well be dead in forty-eight hours. Give or take five or six hours.’

  Doctor Crossland frowned. ‘Is that a threat?’

  ‘Yes,’ the Doctor said. ‘Not from me, from me it’s an assurance. The threat is from Mandragora. From your Chaos Body. It’s here to kill you all.’

  He hurried over to Wilf, Netty and Ariadne Holt. ‘Sorry to break up the party, Wilf, but I have to go. Can you get Netty home OK, Donna?’

  ‘Oh, Doctor, you go, don’t worry about us. I have a cab booked to take me home at eleven anyway,’ Netty said.

  She touched Wilf’s arm. ‘And don’t even try to argue with me, Wilfred Mott. This is your night, so I didn’t want you feeling all responsible for me tonight.’

  Wilf looked from her to the Doctor.

  ‘Wilf can’t leave,’ said Ariadne Holt. ‘We haven’t done the presentation yet.’

  ‘It’s only us that’s going,’ said Donna. ‘Granddad will stay.’

  ‘Like hell I will,’ said Wilf. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No one’s coming with me,’ the Doctor said, but no one was listening to him.

  Donna pulled him closer. ‘Gramps, Netty has already had one… spell this evening. You have to stay with her.

  Make sure she gets home. Go with her in the cab, then keep the cab and get home, yeah?’ She reached into her handbag and took out three tenners. ‘Dunno if it’s enough, but it should help.’

  Wilf refused the money. ‘I can pay my own way, thank you, sweetheart.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you can,’ Donna said. ‘But take it anyway, so I don’t have it on my conscience that you might’ve got stranded somewhere and have to drag Mum out of bed to come and pick you up, all right?’

  Wilf looked at his granddaughter, then at the Doctor, who pretended to find something interesting on the ceiling. He took the cash. ‘Call me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got my mobile.’

  ‘I know you have. And it’ll be switched off or have a flat battery. Same as always. We’ll be fine, I’ll see you in the morning.’ She kissed him, then Netty and grabbed the Doctor’s hand. ‘Come on you, time we were gone.’

  The Doctor called goodbye to Netty, Wilf and Ariadne Holt as Donna dragged him through the door and back into the entranceway, past the doorman and out into the cold night air. ‘I was going by myself,’ he protested, but Donna had already waved down a cab (well, stood in the middle of South Lambeth Road and whistled down one that had made the right choice between stopping, ignoring her or running her over).

  Donna clambered in, hauling the Doctor in afterwards.

  ‘Where to?’ asked the cabbie. ‘I’m off duty soon, so

  better not be far.’

  ‘Chiswick High Road,’ the Doctor said to him, adding to Donna, ‘I need the TARDIS.’

  The driver pulled out, drove under the railway bridge and headed back towards Nine Elms and West London.

  The first report came in at 23.04. It was from the Clemenstry Observatory in Western Australia. It reported that the new star, the one that had appeared in the heavens a week or so back, seemed to be moving in conjunction with another star, M84628•7.

  Which was a bit unusual, Professor Melville declared, jabbing at his computer screen with a ballpoint pen. He was in his office at the Copernicus Array in Essex, but probably wanted to be in the radio telescope control room itself. He usually did.

  ‘That’s the problem with these new stars, these Chaos Bodies,’ he said to his young ‘assistant’, Miss Oladini.

  ‘They’re chaotic and make no sense, scientifically speaking. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘On the nose, Professor,’ she said, not having a clue what he was talking about. She was only here on a short-term contract from the Lovelace Agency in Brentwood, finding temporary work placements to learn new skills.

  ‘New skills’ – she was 25 and already needed ‘new skills’.

  Somewhat embarrassingly, she wasn’t remotely interested in astronomy but didn’t have the heart to tell Melville that.

  Instead, she kept him fed and watered with chocolate bars and tea and listened to him talk about his cat and his mother. (He lived with one and was talking about having the other put to sleep as it had bad kidneys, but Miss

  Oladini still wasn’t entirely sure which way round it was.

  She had a sneaking suspicion, however, the cat was the healthy one.)

  Professor Melville was a sweet old man. Emphasis on the ‘sweet’. And the ‘old’. He said he’d been a pop star back in the Sixties, but she wasn’t sure she believed him.

  Miss Oladini certainly liked him, though she rather suspected he was only employed at the Copernicus Array (cos surely he was way beyond ret
irement age) out of sympathy. Probably why he took the night shifts, keep him out of trouble.

  The Copernicus Array itself was a radio telescope built in the gardens of an old Georgian mansion house that had been converted into the Array’s offices, meeting rooms and so on. A shame, Miss Oladini thought. It was a lovely old house – she often liked visiting old houses and although a lot of care had been taken to preserve the original fixtures and fittings, this place seemed sterile and lacking in natural character. She often wondered who had lived here hundreds of years back, what had become of them all and how they’d feel about their drawing rooms, kitchens, bedrooms and ballrooms being converted into rooms full of dull scientists and administrators.

  At 23.09, the report had come in from the Griffin Observatory in Maryland. It too mentioned the Chaos Body moving into alignment with another star. But a different one to Clemenstry’s M84628•7. This was M97658•3. Which was patently absurd.

  ‘Have they all been drinking?’ Melville wondered.

  That seemed like quite a good idea to Miss Oladini,

  though she only really wanted to get home to her bed. She wasn’t keen on cycling in the dark and, at this time of night, there were lots of people on the roads who might be a bit worse for wear.

  At 23.17, the report came in from the Tycho Project, near Beaconsfield. The Chaos Body was edging towards M29034•1.

  Of course, this wasn’t all simultaneous – after all, it wasn’t dark in California or Perth right now, it was just that Melville was doing a night shift and had only just turned his computer on.

  ‘All we need now, Miss Oladini, is Minsk to offer us something daft and—’

  And sure enough, at 23.19, the Colossus in Minsk fed through details of how the Chaos Body was in alignment with M23116•3.

  Now Melville was alert and curious. Miss Oladini, too, despite her lack of interest in astronomy, because she’d been a mathematics student (hence her ending up here) and she calculated the odds of one Chaos Body suddenly forming a new constellation with four pre-existing stars all on the same night to be… well, bigger odds than there were numerical spaces on her calculator.

  Melville patched through the latest photos onto the big screen that dominated one wall of his office. It was indeed a big screen, and state-of-the-art technology that other observatories and radio telescopes around the UK would have donated a lot of right arms for. All Melville had to do was trace an invisible line from his laptop screen to the big screen on the wall and images and words flowed from

  one to the other like something out of a sci-fi movie.

  Melville was proud of the software, but hadn’t a clue how it worked. He just knew it did and it meant he could move images around on the wall-sized screen without leaving his chair. Which he was doing now.

  First he centred his own photo of the Chaos Star. Then he overlayed Clemenstry’s. Then Griffin’s, Tycho’s and finally Colossus’s.

  ‘Professor…?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But that’s…’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I mean, how…’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘I know.’

  Melville grabbed a phone on his desk. It was red. As he started punching in numbers, he glanced up at Miss Oladini. ‘Have you signed the OSA, Miss Oladini?’

  She frowned. ‘Do what?’

  ‘The Official Secrets Act. Did they make you sign it when you got your work placement forms for this place at the agency?’

  Miss Oladini thought for a moment. Melville was scaring her with the question. Normally, he was a nice old guy, bit dotty, bit rambling, smoked his pipe too often. But now he was suddenly alert and officious, stern and all sense of ‘eccentric’ gone.

  And Miss Oladini realised that the silly, fussy, dotty old man was an act. Underneath it all, Professor Melville was

  sharp as a whistle. Maybe he really had been a pop singer.

  ‘Well?’

  She nodded. She had signed something that had the word ‘official’ in it, she remembered that. Frankly she hadn’t taken much notice of it when Mrs Lovelace at the agency had got her to sign. All the temps signed bits of paper for health and safety, insurance waivers that sort of thing, when they got their placements. One extra hadn’t meant much at the time.

  Now it seemed big and scary.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because without your signature on the bottom of that form, what I’m about to do and what you’re about to hear would have us both in jail for the rest of our lives if you haven’t.’

  And Miss Oladini thought hard. Her brain was good with numbers. ‘Form KD62344,’ she said suddenly. ‘I signed it twice and initialled a box, bottom left.’

  Melville winked. ‘Thank you.’ He punched a final number on the phone. ‘Aubrey Fairchild, please. This is the Copernicus Array, Code 18. My name is Melville.’

  Miss Oladini looked back at the assembled collage of images. The Chaos Body plus the other stars on display meant nothing individually. But now that Melville had put them together, they formed a picture. And not just some abstract nonsense that people saw as a couple of fish, or a plough or a rollercoaster.

  This was very clearly, distinctly and sharply a face. A face with a mouth twisted into a laugh.

  Miss Oladini shivered because that laugh wasn’t a

  happy laugh. It was pure malevolence.

  ‘Prime Minister? Melville, Administrative Professor at the Copernicus Array. I’m sending you a Code 18 image.’

  There was a pause. ‘Yes, sir. No, sir, the images have only been combined here, it’s still a UK threat but give it a few hours…’

  Professor Melville looked across at Miss Oladini. ‘No, sir, just myself and my assistant. We’ll stay put until we hear from your people, Prime Minister. No, absolutely, total lockdown, no communications in or out of the Copernicus Array under any circumstances. Goodnight, sir.’

  Professor Melville replaced the phone.

  ‘That was really the Prime Minister?’ Miss Oladini asked.

  Melville nodded. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but I think we’re in for a long night here. Could you check where we are regarding tea and milk?’

  Miss Oladini started to leave the room, then turned back to see Melville take a mobile phone from his jacket pocket. She hadn’t even known he had a mobile phone.

  ‘Professor? Didn’t you just promise Mr Fairchild that we’d have no communications?’

  He smiled. ‘That’s why I need you to check on the tea.

  If you are not in the room, you can’t be held responsible when I break that promise, commit treason and quite probably professional suicide. Now, for your sake, off you go.’

  Confused, Miss Oladini left the office. But she waited just outside the door, to see if she could hear who he was

  calling.

  She heard the tell-tale electronic beeps of the keypad then, after what must have been quite a few rings, he spoke. ‘Good evening, my name is Professor Melville.

  May I speak with the Doctor, please?’

  The cab was about halfway down Prince Albert Drive, between Vauxhall and Chiswick, doing nearly 20 because of the speed humps.

  In the back of the cab, Donna took out her ringing phone and stared at the number, but didn’t recognise it.

  With a shrug, she pressed accept. ‘Hallo?’

  She listened and then passed it over to the Doctor.

  He smiled. ‘I had the TARDIS routed to your number.

  Should’ve told you. Sorry.’

  ‘How did you cope before mobiles?’ she sighed. ‘A Professor Melville, apparently.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘And there’s another coincidence – it’s one of those nights, isn’t it,’ he said before speaking into the phone. ‘Ahab! What can I do for the Copernicus Array tonight? As if I can’t guess. Does it involve the phrase Chaos Body?’

  Miss Oladini was having her fill of surprising things tonight. First
the stars making pictures. Then dotty old Professor Melville having hotlines to the Prime Minister.

  Then discovering that the milk in the kitchenette hadn’t gone off for once. Oh, and then her boyfriend phoning at nearly midnight.

  ‘Spencer? What do you want?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t used that bloody great telescope to look at the sky?’

  Miss Oladini crossed to the kitchen door, the one that led outside, not into the corridor and peeked out into the cold night air, not really thinking she’d see anything with the naked eye.

  So she was quite surprised when she could.

  ‘Is it some kind of firework display?’ Spencer asked.

  She wondered what to say. Ten minutes earlier, the skies had been clear and the laughing face could only be seen in photographs. Now it was very visible across the heavens, and if her daft old boyfriend had spotted it – and not written it off as a lager-fuelled trip – then something needed to be done. She remembered the Official Secrets Act and told Spencer that yes, it was probably just something being projected from the roof of one of the cinemas down Dagenham way. ‘A movie promotional thing,’ she said, adding ‘and they phoned and warned us about it yesterday,’ which was an awful lie, but seemed to make Spencer happy.

  After he’d rung off, it crossed her mind that the rest of Britain might not be quite so ready to believe her story –not least because she couldn’t phone each person individually and tell them.

  Maybe the Prime Minister would. Or Patrick Moore.

  ‘How’s the tea coming?’

  Miss Oladini turned to see Melville in the doorway, a big smile on his face. She mentioned that the face from the photo was now visible in the sky, and Melville wandered over to the window and peered through.

  ‘Not to worry,’ he said. ‘An expert’s looking into it.’

  ‘From Downing Street?’

  ‘Oh no. Someone far better equipped than anyone there.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Horrible-looking thing, isn’t it?’ he said, as the kettle began to boil again.

  ‘Milk no sugar wasn’t it, Miss Oladini?’

  She nodded mutely.

  ‘I’m not worried now,’ he added. ‘The Doctor will sort it all out.’