Part 7 (2/2)

The Doctor smiled. 'Bits. This and that. Some of the other. I knew enough about stolen art treasures to send Ace off to Pakha. I suspected the Diadem's involvement, but the commissioner confirmed it. Peladon is an added bonus.'

'And Kort?'

'The son? Well, that didn't exactly surprise me. n.o.ble blood, you see.

Diplomatic courtesy. Nice boy, is he?'

'Not really. Teenage angst. Where are we meeting him?'

'At the s.p.a.ceport.'

'What a shame. He was looking forward to travelling in the TARDIS.'

'His father, I expect. Filling the child's mind with nonsense and romantic tales of derring do.'

Bernice caught the Doctor's sleeve. 'So, how do we get to the s.p.a.ceport?'

The Doctor pointed his umbrella towards the crowded walkway and seconds later, Bernice heard the hum of a flyer above her.

'Citizens. Where to?'

's.p.a.ceport Two, if you please.' replied the Doctor. The flyer landed beside them and they crammed themselves in. The synthetic voice suggested that they hold tight and seconds later they found themselves flying just above the walkways and crowds. Bernice looked out of the window -- other flyers skimmed about, and she could see into huge office blocks where multicoloured humans and aliens went about their daily business. She gasped momentarily as another flyer skimmed towards them but at the last minute it veered off to the right and swung around the corner of a tower block. Ahead of them, the walkway seemed to stretch to infinity, but just as Bernice started to wonder if they'd taken the wrong direction, their flyer turned left and the voice announced that they would be at the s.p.a.ceport in four minutes. She looked across at the Doctor, but he had relaxed in his seat, his crumpled fedora hat tilted forward, covering his eyes. He certainly wasn't asleep, but experience told Bernice that it was best to let him think when he did that; it was like a sort of personalized Do Not Disturb sign.

Finally the flyer started its descent and smoothly stopped outside a vast open area, secured by wire fencing. Large double gates bore the notice that this was indeed s.p.a.ceport Two and a large rectangular slab of stone stood just inside the gate.

The Doctor tipped his hat back and beamed widely at his companion.

'Here starteth the adventure, ”Professor Summerfield”,' and he thanked the flyer as the door opened.

'Do we leave a tip?' she asked but before the Doctor could answer, the flyer's voice replied 'Your contentment and safe arrival is enough. Thank you,' and it took off.

The Doctor traced around the notice on the gate with his umbrella point and then walked purposefully towards the slab of rock.

'Good morning. I'm the Doctor, this is my a.s.sociate. We are expected, I think.'

Bernice looked on with bemus.e.m.e.nt as the Doctor talked to the stone. Just as she was about to make some biting comment, the stone's centre glowed slightly orange and the gates swung silently open. The Doctor sauntered through, doffing his hat at the stone. Bernice slowly followed and then stopped and stared at the stone. It glowed again and the gates closed.

Suddenly Bernice was aware of the Doctor's umbrella crook on her arm, giving a slight tug.

It's rude to stare,' he admonished.

'Bu . . . but it's just a rock. . : Bernice looked, bewildered towards the Doctor and back at the stone.

It's an augmented Ogri. I'll explain one day. Right now we're in a hurry.'

With a final look back at the now plain-looking stone, Bernice shrugged and mentally noted the name Ogri. Of course, should have known,' she thought sarcastically. 'Where I come from, everyone's got one.' That spurred on her next question.

'By the way, Oh Great and Wise Know-All, what year are we in? Just so that I don't make any faux pas. I know how you hate to be embarra.s.sed by such things.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'Mid-thirty-ninth century, give or take a decade. I'll know more when we get to Peladon.'

'Mid . . . frag, that's the furthest we've been. No wonder I don't know what an Ogri is! And by the way, why didn't you tell me about the Horun ruins?'

No reply.

She followed the Doctor towards a metal hut, the word 'Reception'

emblazoned across its door.

The door slid silently open as they approached, and a uniformed male Lurman, his silver hair decorated with an astonis.h.i.+ng array of baubles, oozed charm at them.

'You must be the Doctor and Bernice. The Chair of the Federation informed us of your arrival. High Lord Savaar is awaiting you in the hospitality suite aboard the Bruk.' The receptionist smiled at Bernice, his eyes hinting at . . .

she didn't know what exactly but, she thought, he was the first person she'd met recently who might have been worth her discovering what made him tick. He looked well built, late twenties or early thirties, and those silvery eyes . . . She smiled back.

'Fancy a trip to Peladon?' She tried her best to look coy.

The receptionist suddenly looked alarmed. I . . . I don't think my mother.. .'

The Doctor once again came to the rescue, sliding his umbrella around Bernice's wrist and yanking her towards the exit.

'Come along, Professor,' he said loudly. 'We've got to find Damakort.'

Outside, the Doctor looked vaguely disapprovingly towards her.

'His mother?' Bernice tried to take another look back through the gla.s.s door but the Doctor gently pulled her along.

'Lurmans age mentally a great deal slower than humans do. He's the human equivalent of twelve years old, I should think.'

Bernice shook her head. 'Shouldn't be working then, should he?'

All Lurmans work hardest during their youth. It's when they mature you've got to worry about them.'

'Why?'

'Because they tend to go into show business. Come on!'

Shaking his head in resignation, the Doctor led her around the back of the reception but and stopped. There in front of them was the Deep s.p.a.ce lzlyr-cla.s.s cruiser Bruk.

Sleek seemed too dull a word for it. It was, in a functional way, Bernice thought, quite majestic. She'd seen a lot of s.h.i.+ps in her time but this was certainly one of the more impressive. It was, she guessed, about a quarter of a mile long and about three decks high. Brilliant white metal, with pinp.r.i.c.ks of green-tinted Perspex windows and two vast nacelles at the back, obviously the Bruk's drive system. She couldn't see the front properly, it was too far away, but the slightly raised blur she could see suggested the bridge to her. Not too far away, a set of steps led to an open hatchway. Something vaguely green stood waiting there.

'Our invitation,' muttered the Doctor and wandered off towards the steps.

Bernice nodded. 'I'll go first,' she said, brus.h.i.+ng past him. 'After all, I'm the appointed Martian expert. And you'll only be rude to them.'

The Doctor stopped. 'I beg your pardon?'

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