Part 15 (1/2)

As soon as he saw Tegan framed in the opening lift doors the Doctor hastily said his goodbyes to the Brigadier and put down the phone. He hurried across the hotel foyer with a grin on his face, calling out her name as if she was the person he most wanted to see in the entire universe.

Then he noted how unhappy she looked, saw how tightly she was clutching his message in her hand, and his face fell.

'Oh dear,' he murmured, managing to inject such gravity into his voice that Turlough, who was behind him playing catch-up as usual, felt his heart sink.

Tegan held up the note, looking at the Doctor almost accusingly. 'Alien contamination?' she said. 'What kind of alien contamination?

'Turlough, would you be so kind as to order some tea?' the Doctor asked. He took Tegan's arm gently and drew her aside. 'Let's sit down, shall we?'

At first Tegan looked as though she might protest, but then she nodded glumly and allowed herself to be led. The Doctor escorted her over to where he had been sitting, a seating area bordered by tall, white pillars. The seats were all black squishy leather with chrome frameworks, the coffee tables low and gla.s.s-topped. Harry Nillson was piping from the speakers, lamenting that he couldn't live if living was without you. Didn't that guy know any other songs? Tegan thought irritably.

They sat, the Doctor leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his legs slightly splayed, white-booted feet turned inward. To Tegan he looked like a little kid who'd been told to sit quietly, but who really wanted to run off and play.

His eyes, however, were alert, full of wisdom, windows to the awesome complexity of his thoughts.

'Which was it?' he asked gently.

'What?'

'Did you swim in the sea or eat the fish?'

'Oh. I swam in the sea. Or at least I paddled. What's going on, Doctor?'

The Doctor sighed, and as Turlough meandered across to join them, began to tell her exactly what was was going on. He had just finished when their tea arrived. going on. He had just finished when their tea arrived.

'Ah, tea!' the Doctor exclaimed as if it was the answer to all their problems. As the waiter departed the Doctor reached for the teapot. 'Shall I be mother?'

'What's going to happen to me?' said Tegan miserably. 'Am I going to turn into one of these Xaranti things?'

The Doctor glanced at Turlough as if urging him to remain silent. 'I'm sure it won't come to that,' he said rea.s.suringly.

She didn't look convinced. 'First the Mara, now this. I'm sick of being taken over by aliens.'

'Yes, the novelty does wear off after a while,' the Doctor remarked dryly.

Tegan glared at him. 'Are you making fun of me?'

'Of course he isn't,' said Turlough.

Tegan thought that one day she ought to tell Turlough that being nice didn't suit him. Whenever he tried it, he simply ended up sounding oily and insincere. 'Isn't he?' she said curtly.

'Of course not. In fact, he's working on a cure even as we speak.'

'No he's not,' said Tegan. 'He's eating chocolate bourbons.'

The Doctor popped the remainder of his biscuit into his mouth a little guiltily and reached into the inside pocket of his coat. He withdrew a square, grey object that resembled a powder compact, though when he flipped open the lid with his thumb, Tegan saw that it looked more like a miniature laptop. 'There are various diagnostic programmes running in the TARDIS,' he told her. 'I can a.n.a.lyse the data on this. It gives me up-to-the-minute reports.'

He demonstrated by pressing a pinhead-sized b.u.t.ton and producing a scroll of figures and symbols across the screen.

Tegan held up a hand. 'All right, all right, I believe you.'

Suddenly the look of irritation on her face changed to one of dawning horror. 'Oh my G.o.d!'

'What is it?' asked Turlough.

'I've just realised what might be wrong with Andy.'

'Andy?' enquired the Doctor.

'Someone I met. My date. I've got to make a phone call.'

She leaped up and ran to the pay phones beside the main doors. The Doctor watched her with an intent expression as if he was trying to read her lips.

Two minutes later she was back, looking anxious.

'What's wrong?' Turlough asked.

'It's Andy. He's not answering his phone. You don't think...'

She couldn't go on.

The house seemed empty, though somewhere a radio was playing so faintly that Mike couldn't make out the song. The Mayburys' accommodation was on the landing below Mike's attic room. He and Charlotte pa.s.sed the room that Chris Maybury had never even slept in, and on to the one at the end of the landing that Charlotte's parents shared.

Before knocking, Mike offered Charlotte a brief, rea.s.suring smile. She twitched her lips back at him, though her eyes still retained that haunted, sunken look. He turned and rapped authoritatively on the door.

'Mr Maybury,' he said, 'Mr Maybury, are you in there?'

There might have been a groan, a vague movement. Mike imagined Charlotte's hungover father turning over in bed.

'Mr Maybury,' he repeated, raising his voice, 'my name is Captain Mike Yates of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. I have your daughter, Charlotte, here with me. We have something very important to tell you.'

This time there was a definite series of groans, though Mike got the impression that they were being made regardless of, not in response to, him. He turned again to Charlotte. 'I think we'd better go in.' Charlotte nodded and Mike pushed the door open.

He recoiled immediately. The smell was worse than the army changing rooms at the end of the annual rugger tournament. He looked around for its source, but could see nothing. Behind him Charlotte gagged and Mike said, 'I'll open a window.' Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the room.

As he threw open the curtains and fumbled with the window catch, he was only peripherally aware of Tony Maybury as a hunched shape beneath crumpled, twisted covers, tossing from side to side in his bed. The man was moaning as if in pain, and it occurred to Mike, as the catch came free and the bottom section of the cas.e.m.e.nt window rattled upwards, that Charlotte's father may have more wrong with him than a simple hangover.

Gratefully Mike gulped in several lungfuls of air that seemed as fresh as any he had ever tasted, then turned back into the room. From outside came the ubiquitous cries of gulls and the distant jingle of an ice-cream van.

'Dad,' Charlotte said uncertainly, taking a step forward, 'Dad, are you OK?'

Tony gave no indication that he was even aware of their presence. Charlotte glanced pleadingly at Mike, and he strode forward from the window to the head of the bed.