Doctor Who: Ultimate Treasure (20 page)

Myra tossed a few rocks in first to see if anything was lying concealed in the sand. Then they stripped off their clothes and plunged in.

The water was not as cold as Myra had hoped for, but it was better than nothing and helped revive her somewhat. She swam underwater for several minutes, poking around the rocks and startling a few small crablike animals into retreating into their burrows. She surfaced with a splash and returned to the shore propelled by sinuous flicks of her powerful tail.

Arnella was sitting half in the water, letting her legs trail idly.

Myra drew herself up beside her and they sat in silence for a long time, staring out at the glistening mud flats. A few wading birds were slowly pecking their way across the grey pools. Clumps of taller grasses stirred slightly in the light breeze. At least there didn't seem to be any particularly intrusive insect life here, she thought vaguely, though there did seem to be a low buzzing hum coming from somewhere. It took her a few moments to realise that Dynes's drone was hovering a few metres away, its lenses focused full upon them.

She blinked indignantly and nudged Arnella. 'Did you see that earlier? Has it been here all the time?'

Arnella gave a little start and fumbled about for her clothes to cover herself. But they were in a pile a few paces away, which seemed an immense distance in the heavy air, so she wrapped her arms about herself modestly instead and said, 'Go away!

that's not polite!' with as much indignation as she could muster.

The drone remained unresponsive. Arnella turned to Myra. 'Can't you arrest it... or something?' she muttered.

Myra shook her head slowly. 'It hasn't been here the whole time, has it? I mean, we wouldn't have just undressed in front of it like that if it had. She was troubled by the thought that the drone had followed them from the camp, but for some reason she hadn't taken in the implications. Or had she noticed but not cared? She couldn't remember. Come on, she was a trained detective, she shouldn't miss such things...

She saw Arnella look down at her arms - as though mildly puzzled as to why she was hugging them around her - let them slowly drop and sink down flat on the sand. The momentary distraction caused Myra to lose her train of thought. Damn! What had she been trying to work out? She sighed. The sand was soft enough. The sun wasn't too hot or too cold. She lay back. There was no hurry. Wait for Thorrin and the Marquis to get back from... wherever it was. In a minute she had quite forgotten about the faint hum of the drone.

In the
Stop Press
, Dynes watched the sleeping figures curiously for several minutes, not in the least troubled by his invasion of their privacy, only deeply puzzled by their behaviour. It wasn't like Jaharnus to let it go so easily, nor for that matter a Rosscarrino. He sent the drone back to the camp. Falstaff was still sleeping, while Brockwell had finally packed most of the gear into the backpacks, and was now starting on the tent. Frowning, Dynes moved the drone closer. Brockwell was fiddling clumsily with the tent-frame release mechanism. After some moments he slowly sat back, pulled up his knees and rested his chin on them, apparently baffled by his task. Dynes peered more intently at the screen, then checked the monitor showing Qwaid's camp.

Just what was going on out there?

I

It was mid-morning when Qwaid slowly lowered himself down to the camp hollow, yawning and blinking.

'Well, they're still there. Maybe they've found something.'

There was no response. Drorgon seemed to have fallen asleep again, while the Doctor was sprawled on his back resting his head on his interlaced fingers, with his hat draped over his face.

Qwaid looked at them in mild disgust. 'Hey, am I the only one who does any work around here?' He kicked Drorgon's slumbering form. 'Your turn on watch.' It took a second kick before Drorgon heaved himself to his feet, took the binoculars and made his way ponderously up the rocky slope. Qwaid sat down heavily. 'Might as well wait. Nothing else to do here.

Deadest place I ever saw. Give us a chance to get our strength back after all that climbing...'

There was a long silence. Then the Doctor slowly raised himself on one elbow and pushed his hat back, revealing a face creased with a frown. 'There was something... I think.'

Qwaid's head jerked up. He must have been dozing off. 'Eh...

what?'

'Something else you were going to do... no, something we both had to do.'

Qwaid blinked at him. 'Was there?'

'Yes, yes...' the Doctor screwed up his eyes in concentration.

'Peri... you were going to call up your ship and I was going to talk to Peri... like we agreed.'

Qwaid nodded and wagged a finger. 'That's sharp, Doc. Might have forgotten that otherwise. That's what an education does for you.'

laboriously he called up the ship. Gribbs's voice came on the line a little anxiously 'Are you OK, Qwaid? You're late. I was just going to call up myself.'

'Yeah, fine. Get the girl so's the Doc can hear she's all right...'

There was a minute's pause, during which Qwaid found himself sagging slowly back against a convenient rock, then Peri's voice came through.

'Hello, Doctor. I'm bored but OK. At least Mr Gribbs has been minding his manners.'

Qwaid extended the communicator towards the Doctor, who blinked at it owlishly for a moment before replying, 'Good, Peri.

That's... urn, fine.'

'Doctor? Are you OK? You sound bushed.'

'Perhaps a little tired. We... er, did some climbing yesterday.'

Are you sure you didn't fall on your head?'

The Doctor managed a slight chuckle. 'No, no... nothing like that.'

'Well if I didn't know better I'd say you'd been on the sauce.'

'Pardon?'

'Drinking. Are you sure you're fine?'

Qwaid realised the conversation was dragging along. 'OK, you've had your say, he interrupted irritably. 'Take her back to her room...' There was something else he'd meant Gribbs to do.

What was it? Oh yes: 'Gribbsy, listen. We're on the edge of this...

uh, flat mess of lakes and small islands. We want to know how far it runs 'n' suchlike. When you've put the girl away, take the ship up so you can see what's ahead. Got that?'

'Sure, I'll have a go... if the locals'll let us.' Gribbs sounded uncertain. 'Are you sure
you're
OK?'

'Fine, fine. Call when you're ready.'

His hand dropped away from the comm link and he settled hack against a rock. Say what you liked about it being boring, but it was certainly peaceful here. The Doctor was already lying on his back again staring into nothing. Drifting down from the rock summit above them came Drorgon's snores.

Vague pangs of hunger woke Myra, but it took her some minutes to work out where she was. The sun suggested it was nearing midday. Arnella was sprawled on the sand by her side. She poked her arm listlessly. 'Come on, let's eat.' She still felt tired, but there was fish in the water and fruit on the trees, so they wouldn't have to go far to find something. No, they were keeping to their own rations, weren't they?

Arnella stirred and looked at her blearily. 'What... where?'

'Back at camp.' There was something else. Oh yes: 'Your uncle and Thorrin'll be back. Probably found out...' What had they been doing? Never mind.

They got to their feet and started trudging towards the line of rocks. Then Arnella halted. 'Something wrong,' she said doubtfully.

They looked at each other. They were still naked. Their clothes were where they had left them by the pool. They trudged back for them, though it seemed a very long way. Dressing was complicated work. Fastenings seemed suddenly immensely fiddly, and they almost fell over a couple of times while stepping into their shorts. It should have been funny, but instead it was just deeply and depressingly annoying and a hugely unnecessary effort. Easier not to bother at all, thought Myra. But she persevered doggedly. Eventually, more or less properly clothed, they set out for the camp again.

The rocky headland had grown since they last climbed it an eternity and four hours before. Was it longer to go round wading into the shallows or to cut through the lowest cleft? The decision made Myra's head ache. Then Arnella began climbing and she followed because it was easier that way.

Halfway up Myra missed her footing and slipped.

Normally she could have saved herself, but there was something wrong about the speed everything happened, both in a dreamy slow motion and yet at the same time too fast for her to react. She cracked her right shin hard against a projecting rock before she thudded into the yielding sand. Her skin was tougher than a human's, and so the physical damage was slight. But the pain was still considerable, and as she lay on the sand she gave loud voice to a choice series of curses.

Then she clamped her lips shut as she realised what had happened... Arnella was looking down at her with vague concern.

'Are you all right?' she mumbled, slurring her words.

Myra leapt to her feet, savouring the wonderful pain in her leg that had shocked the fog from her mind. 'What the hell have we been doing?' she demanded. Arnella gaped back at her with slack-jawed incomprehension. Myra shook her so hard her teeth clicked, her claws digging into Arnella's flesh until she whimpered. But the light of awareness had returned to her eyes.'Don't let it get you again!' she commanded.

Arnella managed to focus oner. 'I I... I couldn't think clearly...

what was it?'

'I don't know, but we're not waiting around to find out. Let's find the others and get out of here!'

They scrambled back up the rocks and down the other side, jumping the last few metres and rolling in the sand. Myra felt her leg protest again, but that was good: it meant she was alive and not half dead. They sprinted back towards the camp. Falstaff was where they had left him, while Brockwell was sitting with his back to the tent, which was still erect, toying with its packing bag as though unsure what to do with it.

Myra and Arnella yelled, and pummelled and slapped the two men into some semblance of alertness. Even in their panic Myra noticed a flash of genuine concern on Arnella's face as she forced herself to slap Brockwell on the cheek. Brockwell's expression as he came to and realised who was striking him was also worth treasuring, but she had no time to dwell on it for the moment.

'Finish the packing while I get the others,' she commanded.

'Watch each other like gyrehawks! The moment anybody looks dopey hit them!' And she sprinted off down the beach towards the shanty village, focusing her mind totally on finding the Marquis and Thorrin, and letting the ache in her leg stimulate her anger with every step.

The two were easy to find. They were resting in the shade of a rough awning strung from the shack they had visited the previous night. Sitting beside them were a ragged grey-haired woman (how long had she been here?) and a couple of other men.

Bowls and cups made out of the half-shells of tree nuts were littered about them. Please don't let them be drunk as well, Myra thought. There was no time for half-measures. She snatched up two full cups and dashed the contents into their faces, then began the slapping and pummelling.

'Hey... what you doing?' One of the others was looking at her in vague bemusement. 'We were jus' drinking...' It hurt to see someone so enfeebled, but she could hardly dare to divide her attentions any further. Ignoring him she continued to work on rousing Thorrin and the Marquis.

When they began to respond she hauled them to their feet and sent them stumbling back in confusion towards their own camp, followed by the dull listless gazes of half a dozen lost ones who slouched in the shelter of their shacks. They met Arnella, Brockwell, and Falstaff pounding along the sands in the opposite direction with all their belongings. Barely pausing to sling their packs properly, they splashed out across the mud flats and away from the island.

Gribbs flung open the door to Peri's cabin.

'Out!' he commanded sharply. There was a look of fearful uncertainty on his face. Before she could rise from her bunk he had grabbed her arm and hauled her upright.

'Hey!' she yelped in pain and surprise, as he dragged her along the main corridor to the control cabin. 'What's wrong?'

'I can't raise Qwaid! If you're precious Doctor has pulled something, then he's going to hear you suffer!'

Qwaid was roused by his comm link beeping with shrill urgency

'Yar... wassat?'

'I've been calling and calling.' came Gribbs's voice, heavy with relief. 'What's the matter with you?'

The girl's voice cut in: 'Doctor, are you all right? Please answer

-' She broke off with a loud yelp and there came the sound of a smack on flesh.

'Shut up, you!' he heard Gribbs shout. There was another smack and cry from the girl. 'Stay there and don't move, or else I'll make you wish you'd never been born!'

The commotion seemed to have roused the Doctor. He was wring blearily at the comm link, then around at their camp and Drorgon's still form slumped on the rock above. Then he leaned forward and slapped Qwaid twice - hard.

The stinging blows jolted Qwaid. He reeled backward, reaching for his holster. 'Why you -'

'That's right - stay angry!' The Doctor's fresh boyish face was flushed, his deep eyes intense, his voice urgent and commanding. 'If we stay angry we can fight it!'

'What in hell -'

'Think how we've been behaving since dawn! We've been falling into a trap! Either something in the air itself or a mental field, inducing a state similar to the aftereffects of intoxication. Loss of concentration, reduced response to external stimuli, introversion, and extreme lethargy. We were becoming lotus caters!'

Qwaid fought to clear his head. It was true: he had been feeling a little strange. 'Who... what?'

'Never mind. Just stay angry! Pinch yourself, bite your tongue!

If we don't get clear right now we may never escape.' He scrabbled around for a fist-sized rock, forced himself to his feet and threw it up at Drorgon. There was an angry yell of pain. The Doctor picked up another rock and threw it after the first.