Part 12 (1/2)

Robert wasn't dead. That had surprised him for a start. What he was, was a hostage. That seemed somehow shameful: through him the Quevvils were forcing the Doctor to do things he didn't want to do. But Robert took comfort from the fact that he was actually managing to help the hero in little ways. The Doctor as Robert had expected had a plan. Unfortunately, both Robert and the Doctor were tied to their chairs, and this Quevvil had stayed behind to monitor the Doctor's progress. The Doctor wanted to do things without it noticing. Which meant that Robert had to try to distract it.

That had been the easy one. But the Doctor said he needed it distracted for a lot longer next time, and Robert really didn't know what to do. 'You saw it,' he whispered to the Doctor. 'If I do anything else it'll activate this.' He indicated the disc on his forehead. 'Then I won't be able to help at all.'

'So what you're saying is that we need to distract it before you can distract it?' said the Doctor.

Robert gave a half*hearted laugh. 'Something like that. I don't know what to do,' he said, and his voice sounded pathetic and whiny. He tried to control it better. 'I wish it had a disc so we could turn it into a zombie...'

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'That'd be good...'

The Doctor negotiated Rose up a flight of steep steps. The Quevvil was now watching the screen again.

'Look at me,' whispered the Doctor. Robert did so. The Doctor leaned over and examined the disc.

'We've tried to remove them,' Robert told him. 'But we just couldn't.'

'You're not me,' said the Doctor, grinning. But then his face fell. 'd.a.m.n!' he said. 'I gave my sonic screwdriver to Rose. Oh well, improvisation it is then... Start yelling.'

Robert did as he was told. The Quevvil might zombify him, but if it was what the Doctor wanted...

'Let me go! Let me go!' cried Robert at the top of his voice.

The Quevvil picked up the silver control box and raised it threateningly.

'Quick!' called the Doctor, holding up the game's control pad. 'This thing's gone wrong!'

Robert and the Quevvil both looked at the screen. It certainly did look as if something had gone wrong the picture was going up and down, up and down. Robert but seemingly not the Quevvil noticed that the Doctor was actually rapidly pressing one b.u.t.ton with his thumb, again and again. 'Sorry, Rose,' murmured the Doctor. 'Still, bit of exercise won't do you any harm...' He waved the control pad at the Quevvil. 'I need this fixed.'

The Quevvil approached them. It leaned over to take the control pad. And the Doctor hit it, right on its snub, hairy nose.

The Quevvil reeled back, and the Doctor grabbed the silver box from its hand. Dropping the control pad, he prised off the top of the box, poked inside it, and suddenly pointed it at Robert's forehead. Robert jerked back in alarm, but to his amazement and delight, instead of losing all control of his body, he felt a tickling sensation around the disc, as if the little metal hooks were retracting from his fles.h.!.+ A second later, the disc tumbled off into his lap.

But there was no time for rejoicing the Quevvil had recovered from the blow and was staggering towards them, its quills straightening, ready to throw. The Doctor was still poking around inside the silver box. 'Quick, on its head!' he called out.

In a split second, Robert realised what he meant. He grabbed the disc and pushed his hand forward in one rapid movement. His palm slammed into the Quevvil's face, and he felt the metal legs push themselves into the monster's coa.r.s.ely furred forehead. The Doctor had the top back on the control box, and pressed a b.u.t.ton.

The Quevvil froze.

'Well done!' cried the Doctor, an enormous grin on his face. But Robert wasn't grinning. He was gazing down at his hand. At the sharp quills that were sticking into his palm. The pain was intense. He choked back a sob.

The Doctor followed his gaze. 'Ow!' he said in sympathy. Robert thought that didn't even begin to cover it. But the Doctor was actually looking serious. 'Got to get them out,' he said. 'They're barbed, and they can work their way in really quickly. If they hit a major blood vessel...'

Robert s.h.i.+vered. 'What should I do?' he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

The Doctor looked him straight in the eye. 'Can you bear some pain?'

Robert took a deep breath, and nodded. He thought he'd been willing to die for this man. He couldn't appear a coward in front of him now.

The Doctor put a hand in his jacket pocket, and pulled out a scalpel and an apple. He gave the apple to Robert. 'Bite into this,' he said.

Robert stuck his teeth into the apple, and held out his hand. There was a red*hot pain in his palm, and he crunched right into the apple in shock. He spat out the piece, and put the apple down. 'I don't think that's really helping,' he said weakly.

'One more,' said the Doctor. Robert felt another stab, and couldn't help but whimper. 'OK,' said the Doctor. 'All done.' Robert looked down, and found the quills gone from his hand. The Doctor was holding them, and even at a distance it was obvious that the barbed points had expanded outwards till they looked like miniature Christmas trees. No wonder the Doctor had had to cut them out.

The Doctor dropped the quills on the floor, and pulled a large white handkerchief out of his pocket. He began to bandage Robert's hand. 'Hold it tightly,' he said. 'But it shouldn't bleed for long.'

Robert nodded, gripping his palm as tight as he could with his left hand. But through the pain, he was happy. He'd helped! He'd actually helped! He'd helped the Doctor, and now they'd be able to rescue Rose, the most wonderful girl in the world...

He looked up at the screen, expecting to see exactly the same view as when the Doctor had abandoned the game a few minutes before. But to his shock, he found that wasn't the case.

'Doctor!' he screamed, too horrified to be embarra.s.sed. 'A Mantodean!'

The Doctor spun round. There on the screen, the giant green figure of a Mantodean was approaching. Its jaws were open, coming closer and closer.

SIXTEEN.

Rose's thoughts about the Doctor were not complimentary. She'd been suffering the indignities of being walked and jumped and run around, and now she was frozen in one place, like a musical*statues world champion. One foot was just off the ground under normal circ.u.mstances she'd have overbalanced quite quickly. The Doctor was probably having a good old laugh at stupid, helpless, puppet Rose.

And just knowing that he almost certainly wasn't didn't stop her thinking about it. When she got hold of him...

She'd give him a great big hug, because she'd still be alive and he'd still be alive and he'd probably have saved her life, lots of other people's lives, and a planet or two into the bargain. And she wouldn't mention the helplessness she'd felt; how she hated this more than anything ever.

She wouldn't mention how she was worried she was his puppet, doing things at his command, whether she could move by herself or not.

She thought she'd chosen to travel with him of her own free will, but she'd figured out that he had his own agenda. Because he needed a companion. He needed her. Somehow, she validated him. If a tree fell in a forest when no one was there to hear it, did it make a sound? If a Time Lord saved a world when there was no one there to know it, was he still a hero?

And she needed a hero right now, oh, G.o.d...

There was a Mantodean. There was she, stuck like a lemon in the middle of the room, and she could see it down the corridor... any second now oh, help, it had seen her, it had seen her...

She tried to scream out with her mind, praying desperately that in a spectacular twist the implant in her forehead would turn out to be able to transmit thought waves to its controller. Doctor, help! Doctor, help!

Doctor It was skittering closer, multi*faceted eyes examining this intruder in its path, this alien creature that threatened the security of its home. Not that she was doing much threatening at the moment. It was skittering closer, multi*faceted eyes examining this intruder in its path, this alien creature that threatened the security of its home. Not that she was doing much threatening at the moment.

As Rose watched, the creature's mandibles sprang apart, like a gardener whipping open a pair of pruning shears. If they were slammed shut, her head would fall to the floor as easily as an unwanted twig.

Doctor, help!

And then... her knees braced, and she was flying into the air, soaring towards the high ceiling, and her arms were reaching over her head and she grabbed hold. Of what, she had no idea, she couldn't look upwards, but for all she knew her fingernails were digging into solid rock. If she didn't know what she was doing was impossible, she wouldn't fall like Wile E. Coyote happily running across thin air until he thought to look down.

Her legs raised up, and her head was pointing downwards enough for her to see that the Mantodean could no longer reach her. It was scurrying about under her, probably very annoyed. She was just starting to feel not safe, but some relief that she wasn't about to die that very second when she thought about gra.s.shoppers, and the 'hopper' bit of their name, and weren't praying mantises really like them, and weren't Mantodeans really like praying mantises, and did that mean they could hop up high, say, ceiling high...

The Mantodean was bouncing slightly on its back legs preparing to jump? It was right under her, it would grab her, bring her down, snip off her head...