Part 2 (1/2)

'Pulling a few strings on Earth to get the best cabin?'

Shade closed his eyes. He wished there were something warm in the way she mocked him. 'You know that's bull.'

'Whatever.'

'Every time...' He looked at her. 'Why does my coming from Earth have to make a difference?'

She became mock-pensive. 'Because our glorious seat of empire is outmoded and obsolete? Because Earthers stay rich by taxing to death the populations they chucked out into s.p.a.ce in the first place? Because...'

Shade felt tired. It was an old argument. 'I'm running from Earth, Denni. I hate it as much as you do.'

'Maybe you'll prove that to me, one day,' she said as she straightened up and stretched, a cat ready to slink off somewhere new. No loyalties to anyone dumb enough to stroke it.

'Oh, I'll prove it,' Shade promised her as she walked away.

'To all of you.'

Big words.

He hit red, let the door swish shut. Looked down at the vidphone. I got things to do, I got things to do, he'd said. A single call and he could turn all this around. he'd said. A single call and he could turn all this around.

Shade sighed, and called up the e-rag. The text played over his wall but he barely took it in, hardly heard the cheesy voiceover making a joke out of everything. He stood unmoving, kept staring at the phone as the minutes slid by.

Chapter Two.

Appointment with Death

I.

Ben looked at Polly and narrowed his eyes. 'You saying I've got a cold wet nose and floppy ears?'

Polly rolled her eyes but she was smiling, her straight white teeth framed by crimson lips. 'You know what I mean,' Polly went on in her oh-so-frightfully oh-so-frightfully tones. 'People are either dog people or cat people. And you're a dog.' tones. 'People are either dog people or cat people. And you're a dog.'

'Yeah, well, reckon I know how you'd take it if I called you you one,' Ben retorted. one,' Ben retorted.

'I'm a cat person,' Polly declaimed, running slender fingers through her long blonde hair.

'Thought you reckoned you were just the whiskers on the thing, not the whole moggy.'

'I just mean I make my own way, that's all. Independent.'

Ain't that the truth, Ben thought wryly to himself. They'd shared a few adventures now since leaving London, thanks to the TARDIS's dodgy compa.s.s, and throughout it all Polly was always making out she could look after herself all right. No need for Ben to look out for her, oh no. But he knew better.

Well, it stood to reason. With the navy he'd seen so much, been so many places, learned how to handle himself. All she'd known were Beaujolais Nouveau parties, poncy nightclubs and finis.h.i.+ng school in South Ken until they'd fallen in with the Doctor on his batty travels through time and s.p.a.ce.

'You'd be a bulldog.' Polly laughed. 'Or a terrier. Tenacious little Ben, always pulling life's trouser leg!'

'All right, all right,' Ben said a little touchily. He was very aware he was hardly a giant among men, especially since Polly was taller than him by a good inch. 'What about the Doctor, then?'

'Cat person or dog person?' Polly enquired with a wicked smile, 'He's more of an old buzzard, don't you think?'

Her smile dropped suddenly as a door shut loudly behind her.

'This ”old buzzard” has excellent hearing my girl, quite excellent, yes,' the Doctor fussed as he walked back in to the console room. The old boy was a real mystery, but it seemed his life was just one long adventure that he was willing to share with his mates. For Ben, that was all you needed to know.

This gleaming monochrome complex was his home. And it suited him. Quite a black-and-white character, the Doctor, Ben decided. Not just his appearance - swept-back silver hair, black frock coat, white wing-collared s.h.i.+rt and grey trousers - but in the way he saw things. A sort of suffer-no-fools and take-no-prisoners outlook that put Ben in mind of an old granddad of his, one who'd maybe lost a few marbles in the trenches.

The Doctor began flicking switches on the pentagonal console. His hands waved uncertainly over various sections before his bony fingers stabbed and twisted at the controls with sudden precision.

The column in the middle of the console's set-up started to slow. The Doctor steepled his fingers and smiled benignly at his two companions, his blue eyes twinkling. 'We should soon be landing.'

'Where?' asked Ben.

The old man's faced clouded in confusion. He turned back to his controls.

Ben turned to Polly. 'Never mind the buzzard, d.u.c.h.ess,' he whispered. 'Reckon he's got the memory of a goldfish.'

II.

Shade felt the bridge shudder as the retros kicked in. The vibration made him feel sick, and he put this down to the sleep drug. The 'trip trip' Joiks had called it. Funny.

He couldn't believe they still used needles to inject the serum, or that they laid them on these slabs afterwards like corpses in a morgue. Then again, he couldn't believe an ancient pile of sc.r.a.p like this lousy s.p.a.ce frigate was still being flown by anyone, let alone the military. No quarters - just a bridge and a cargo hold. A s.h.i.+p small enough to blip past any radar, and to drive anyone trapped on board mad in under a week. Especially with Joiks and his one-liners there for the ride.

However they got the drug, Shade thanked G.o.d for it. The month had pa.s.sed in the time it took to close his eyes. That made the worst hangover he'd had in his life a little more bearable.

Now ten of them were strapped into the couches in a punchy silence, staring at the central viewscreen.

Marshal Haunt was in the middle. She craned her head like the rest of them at the dull grey rock that filled the viewscreen. Her skin shared its drab pallor. Both her hands were twitching, like they were still trying to wake up.

'It's been a while,' she muttered dryly as she faced the group. 'Everyone still remember who they are?'

Shade's head lolled back, he closed his eyes.

'Everyone still remember who I am?' Haunt's voice hardened a little.

'Think so, Marshal Haunt,' Joiks said. 'Didn't you kick Shade's a.s.s back in Theatre One?'