The Taking of Chelsea 426

by Doctor Who

  admonishing glare.

  'I hope you've cleaned out them mousetraps!' he barked, and Wallace nodded sheepishly, running back into the stockroom. Mr Pemberton folded the top of the paper bag before handing it to Jake, and in return Jake gave him the money.

  The children cheerfully waved goodbye to Mr Pemberton as they walked out of the shop, but the Doctor paused in the open doorway and looked from Mr Pemberton to the mynah bird and back again. He nodded thoughtfully without saying another word, turned and closed the door. With the bell above the doorframe still jangling, the mynah bird squawked,

  'Goodbye!'

  Mr Pemberton waited a moment before stepping out from behind the counter and walking up to the window. He followed the three of them with a steely glare, and hissed, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, The Doctor...'

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  DOCTOR WHO

  They were halfway across Miramont Gardens when Jake began to sing:

  'Wallace and Vienna in a tree, K.I.S.S.LN.G...'

  'Shut up!' said Vienna.

  The Doctor laughed and then shot Jake a stern look, which the young boy took as a signal to stop singing.

  They were on the other side of the Miramont Gardens, near the entrance to Tunbridge Street, when one of the large television screens suspended above the square flashed into life with a fanfare, and the words THE SMALLS AGENDA' appeared in big bold letters.

  The Doctor and the children stopped walking and looked up at the screen, where the letters now faded to reveal a thickset man with a short neck and the gruff expression of a bulldog.

  'Hang on a minute,' said the Doctor, squinting up at the screen. 'I've seen him somewhere before...'

  'Newcomers,' said the man on the screen with evident distaste. 'Everywhere you look there are Newcomers. You know what I say? They're welcome to visit, but we don't want them to stay, and yet more and more we're hearing about visitors applying for permits to stay here, on Chelsea 426, after the Flower Show. Is that what we really want?'

  'It's Riley Smalls,' said Jake. 'He's on TV all the time.'

  'Of course it isn't!' continued Smalls, leaning a little closer to the camera, his face now bunched up in a scowl. 'But what say do we have in the matter? That's 36

  THE TAKING OF CHELSEA 426

  right... None whatsoever! Our Mayor is far too busy showing off in front of all our guests to care about what the ordinary man in the street thinks, isn't he? Well I say enough is enough. Do we really want our way of life changed beyond all recognition?'

  'But that's impossible,' said the Doctor. 'He was on TV years ago. And I mean years ago...'

  It was true. On the very few occasions when the Doctor had watched twenty-first-century television he'd encountered that same man, with the same scowl, and the same disgruntled tone of voice. He had been a journalist, in the loosest sense of the word, and the host of his own show, even then.

  'Yeah,' said Vienna. 'He's a Cryogen, isn't he?'

  The Doctor turned to Vienna, frowning.

  'A Cryogen?'

  'Don't you know anything? He had something wrong with him, like, five hundred years ago, a tumour or something, so they froze him. They unfroze him about ten years ago, and he came here not long after that.'

  The Doctor turned back to the screen and winced.

  'Oh, that's not good,' he said.

  'Why's that?' asked Jake.

  'Long story,' said the Doctor. 'And a bit icky for the under-15s. Maybe some other time. Right now we've got to get you two back in time for your chores.'

  The children groaned, and the Doctor ushered them back on to Tunbridge Street.

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  'So,' he said, as they walked down the covered street, past old women walking their dogs and obedient children following their smartly dressed parents like rows of ducklings, Tell me about this Flower Show, then.'

  'What's to tell?' asked Jake.

  'Well,' said the Doctor. 'Where are the flowers from?'

  'You don't know?' said Vienna. 'Have you been living on Pluto for the last year or something?'

  They were in the clouds,' Jake cut in, embarrassed by his sister's sarcasm. 'Just floating around. Professor Wilberforce found them when he was taking samples.

  He planted them, and they grew into these amazing great big flowers. Only nobody's seen them yet. They won't see them until tomorrow.'

  'Right...' said the Doctor. 'And where can I find this Professor Wilberforce?'

  38

  THREE

  ' That'sit...Ifyoucouldjustliftyourchinalittle...

  Just like that... Yeah... And hold it... Now try not to blink... And... Yes.'

  Mr Sedgefield, Mayor of Chelsea 426, glanced sideways at the holographer and huffed loudly through his nose, rolling his eyes only when the Newcomer wasn't looking at him.

  'Is this going to take much longer?' he asked, petulantly.

  'Oh no,' said the holographer, a scruffily dressed young man who called himself Zeek. 'Just a few more shots and we'll be finished.'

  If his dress sense alone - torn carellium-weave trousers and a shimmering neon T-shirt -wasn't enough

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  to offend, Zeek was also chewing gum. Mr Sedgefield couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't added the chewing of gum to the Colony Code's list of forbidden activities. It certainly wasn't on sale anywhere in Chelsea 426, so the slovenly little tyke must have brought it with him. It would take only a few of the colony's teenagers to see a Newcomer idly chewing gum and soon enough they'd all be doing it.

  They were in the Mayoral office, a glass dome at the top of a narrow tower in the heart of the colony. They had been there for some time, with Mr Sedgefield posing in a large wooden chair, an oversized, leather-bound copy of Mark Anthony's Meditations open in his lap and tilted at such an angle that the title, embossed on the spine in gold leaf, was visible to Zeek's laser camera. Though the limits of his patience were being tested, the portrait had been Mr Sedgefield's idea in the first place.

  It would eventually be shown at an exhibition in the Ubergallery, an enormous man-made island in the North Sea. There the image of Mayor Sedgefield would find itself amongst portraits of the galaxy's 'most influential persons'. On first hearing about the exhibition, Mr Sedgefield had used his contacts back home to ensure he had a place amongst the politicians, entrepreneurs and celebrities.

  As Zeek set up the laser camera in another corner of the room, Mr Sedgefield asked, Tell me, who will I be next to in the exhibition?'

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  THE TAKING OF CHELSEA 426

  Tm sorry?' said Zeek, frowning up at him and still chewing his gum.

  'In the exhibition... Whose hologram will be next to mine?'

  Zeek shrugged, adjusting the camera and tilting it so that the lens now faced the Mayor directly.

  'Dunno,' he said. 'I just take the pictures, innit?'

  Mr Sedgefield shook his head in scorn and once more assumed his regal pose, the book open in his lap, but his gaze fixed firmly on the black canopy of space above the dome.

  As the camera emitted sudden flashes of green and then red light, there was a knock at the door.

  'Come in,' said the Mayor, through gritted teeth, barely opening his mouth, as if he were trying to throw his voice like a ventriloquist.

  The door opened very slightly and one of his assistants leaned into the room.

  'Mr Mayor,' she said. 'Mr Smalls is here to see you.'

  Sedgefield groaned as if he were in some pain, his whole body seeming to deflate. He slammed the weighty, leather-bound volume shut with a loud bang and placed it on his desk. 'Well,' he sighed, 'I suppose you'd better show him in.' He turned to Zeek. 'We'll have to finish this later.'

  Zeek shrugged as if he hadn't a care in the world and walked out of the office with a lolloping gait.

  Within seconds of Zeek leaving, Riley Smalls entered 41

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  the room. From his general mood he seemed a
s pleased to see the Mayor as the Mayor was to see him.

  'You called for me?' said Smalls, taking a seat opposite the Mayor's desk without being asked if he'd like one.

  'Well yes, quite, er, yes,' said Mr Sedgefield, returning to his own seat and offering the television presenter an insincere smile.

  'What about?' asked Smalls.

  'Well,' said the Mayor, a little awkwardly. 'It's about these programmes of yours... About the Flower Show...'

  'What about them?'

  'Yes... Right... Well... There's a certain consensus...

  in the Colony Council, I mean... that your programmes are a little... erm... negative... about the Newcomers.'

  Too right they are,' said Smalls, folding his arms with a sanctimonious nod.

  'Yes,' said Mr Sedgefield, the corners of his smile beginning to strain. 'And, um, obviously you're entitled to your opinion, but... er... some people can't help but feel that perhaps it would project a better... um... image of the colony, as a... as a... as a whole, you understand, if we were to be a little more... er, what's the word I'm looking for... positive about our guests? While they're here? I mean... Your show is broadcast on all public screens and... er... the guests can see the screens and... er... hear what you're saying about them. So some people have said that, er...'

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  THE TAKING OF CHELSEA 426

  'Some people?' queried Smalls, now leaning forward, a little closer to the Mayor. 'You mean you?'

  'Well,' said the Mayor, laughing nervously, 'I didn't, I mean, that's to say I, er...'

  'Load of nonsense. All a load of nonsense. I didn't ask for any Newcomers. And I've spoken to quite a few people on the Colony Council and they didn't ask for any either. There are questions that need answering, Mr Sedgefield.'

  The Mayor shifted awkwardly in his seat, his bottom inadvertently

  squeaking

  against

  the

  leather

  upholstery.

  'Such as?'

  'What's to stop them staying?' demanded Smalls.

  'Once this Flower Show's over, I mean. What's to stop all these Newcomers with their fancy clothes and their strange hair staying here on Chelsea 426? There's more than fifty ships' worth of them now, Mr Sedgefield. There's almost as many of them as there are of us. It would only take a few ships' worth of Newcomers to stay and within five years you wouldn't recognise the place. They'd be running in the council elections and then, next thing you know, we'd be amending the Colony Code.'

  'Well, now, I don't think we need to worry about that,'

  Mr Sedgefield blustered. 'I mean, really...'

  'Oh, don't you now?' said Smalls. 'You might not think we need to worry, but a lot of people are worrying, Mr Sedgefield. A lot of people are. People who vote.'

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  There was a long pause between the two men. They eyeballed one another across the desk, and the Mayor put his hands together in the shape of a church, the steeple of his forefingers pressed against his lips. He breathed in sharply and let it out with a long, slow sigh.

  'I see,' he said, and then, more confidently, as if it were a speech he had rehearsed, 'Well, obviously, though we acknowledge the... vibrancy the Newcomers have brought to Chelsea 426, we will ensure that there are tough regulations in place to prevent our way of life from being altered in any way once the Flower Show is over. The important thing here is harmony, I think you'll agree?'

  Smalls nodded, though he still wasn't smiling.

  'I agree,' he said. 'We want them off this colony the minute the Flower Show is over. All of them.'

  'All of them?'

  'All of them.'

  'Right. Yes. Of course. Though, actually, that maybe a little—'

  'I said all of them, Mr Sedgefield,' said Smalls, standing abruptly and straightening his jacket. There'll be trouble otherwise. Newcomers getting up to all sorts. Rioting in the streets. And come election time...'

  'Yes?'

  'Well... Let's just say the people of Chelsea 426 might want the kind of person as Mayor who warned them about this in the first place.'

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  'You're not saying...?'

  'Now, Mr Sedgefield, I'm not an ambitious man, but if civic duty calls... Well, who's to say what tomorrow brings? I trust I'm making myself clear.

  The Mayor nodded sheepishly.

  'Crystal,' he replied.

  45

  FOUR

  AbovetheentrancetotheOxygenGardenswasan enormous sign:

  CHELSEA 426 WELCOMES YOU TO THE

  CHELSEA FLOWER SHOW!

  The Doctor read the sign. There was something so formal about the way it was written, right down to the choice of font, that it didn't seem particularly welcoming.

  Taking off his glasses, the Doctor moved towards the entrance, where a large, almost rectangular security guard stood motionless, his arms at his sides. Even when the Doctor was only a few paces away from him, 47

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  the guard failed to acknowledge his presence, staring blankly ahead like a waxwork dummy.

  The Doctor waited for a response, but none came.

  'Hello!' he said eventually.

  The guard turned his head and looked down at the Doctor, huffing through his nostrils as if the Doctor's presence alone was enough to ruin his evening.

  'Can I help you?' he grunted.

  'Well yes, actually,' said the Doctor. 'I was wondering if I could see Professor Wilberforce.'

  'Professor Wilberforce?'

  That's right!' said the Doctor, producing a flat leather wallet from his pocket, which he opened and held up for the guard to see. The guard inspected what to him looked like an identity card but was, in fact, a blank piece of psychic paper.

  'I'm Doctor John Smith from the Intergalactic Horticultural Society,' said the Doctor, flapping the wallet shut. 'Just thought I'd pop in. Say hello.'

  'Right...' said the guard, a little cautiously. 'I'll just radio him and see if he's available.'

  'Splendid!' said the Doctor.

  The guard spoke through a small walkie-talkie to somebody inside the Oxygen Gardens, and a tinny, barely audible voice answered from the other end of the line.

  'If you could just wait here one moment, sir,' said the guard.

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  THE TAKING OF CHELSEA 426

  'Of course,' said the Doctor.

  Before long, a small, prim young woman in wire-framed glasses came out of the Oxygen Gardens and shook the Doctor's hand.

  'Doctor Smith,' she said, smiling graciously. 'I'm Alice Wendell. I'm Professor Wilberforce's assistant. Can I help you at all?'

  'Oh, hello!' said the Doctor, holding up the wallet once more. 'I'm Doctor Smith, from the Intergalactic Horticultural Society.'

  'Yes,' said Alice Wendell. 'So Bruno here tells me.'

  'Of course,' said the Doctor. 'Anyway... I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd pop by and say hello to old Professor Wilberforce. See how he is, you know?'

  'Well I'm afraid Professor Wilberforce is very busy right now,' said Alice, 'as I'm sure you'll appreciate. We have less than sixteen hours until the opening of the Flower Show.'

  'Of course...'

  'Will you be attending tomorrow?'

  The Doctor nodded thoughtfully.

  'Hopefully, yes...'

  'You aren't from Chelsea 426, are you?'

  The Doctor stopped nodding and looked straight at Alice, raising both eyebrows.

  'I'm sorry, what's that?'

  'I said you aren't from Chelsea 426. Are you?'

  'Oh no... No no no no no... Just visiting.'

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  'Just visiting,' said Alice, 'and yet you are only hoping to visit the Flower Show?'

  The Doctor raised one index finger to his lip and nodded thoughtfully.

  'Right, yeah, well, that's if I can get a ticket,' he said.

  'I was kin
d of hoping I might get a sneak preview. Being from the Intergalactic Horticultural Society and everything.'

  'I'm afraid that will not be agreeable.' Alice smiled politely. 'We have many visitors from many worlds.

  We're unable to offer... sneak previews... to anyone.

  You'll just have to wait for the show like everybody else.'

  'Of course. Yes. Silly me.'

  'Good evening, Doctor Smith.'

  'Oh,' said the Doctor.

  The guard had stepped forward from his post so that he stood between the Doctor and Alice, an unspoken indication for the Doctor to leave.

  'Right, yes. I see. Well, I suppose I'll just have to come back tomorrow, then.'

  'Yes,' said Alice. 'If you can get a ticket, of course.'

  'Right, of course,' said the Doctor. I’ll get onto it straight away. Get my people to phone your people.'

  And with that he about-turned and walked casually away from them, looking back over his shoulder just once to meet their icy glares. When he was out of their sight he opened the wallet of psychic paper once more and ran one finger over the blank page.

  so

  THE TAKING OF CHELSEA 426

  'She didn't buy you for a second, did she?' he said, snapping it shut and walking away.

  Professor Wilberforce stood in one corner of his office, his hand laid flat on the top of the glass dome containing the single blue flower.

  'Soon,' he purred softly. 'Soon...'

  He heard the door to his study open and turned to face Alice. Nodding without saying a word, he sat behind his desk, bathed in the dim, multicoloured light from his Tiffany lamp.

  'Were you listening?' Alice asked.

  The Professor shook his head.

  'Our thoughts aren't strong enough yet,' he said.

  These human brains are weak. But give it time. Who was it?'

  'He called himself Doctor Smith,' said Alice. 'He tried to use psychic paper to confirm his credentials.'

  Professor Wilberforce laughed and shook his head.

  The fool,' he said. 'He claimed to be a doctor?'

  'Yes,' said Alice.

  Professor Wilberforce nodded thoughtfully, and then pressed a small brass button on the edge of his desk. A thin, transparent glass screen rose up from its surface.