Doctor Who BBCN17 - Sick Building Read online

  The Doctor turned to his companions with a colossal ‘Whewwww!

  Blimey!!’ of relief. ‘I’m glad that worked out. Could’ve been a bit messy otherwise.’

  ‘It was a sabre-toothed tiger!’ Martha gasped. ‘On an alien planet?’

  The Doctor gave a carefree shrug.

  ‘They crop up everywhere.

  Maybe it’s a world of prehistoric beasties. Dunno.’ He fixed the teenage boy with a sharp stare. ‘And you are?’ Before the boy could reply, the Doctor shouted at him: ‘You could have been killed, bursting in like that! Couldn’t you see the danger? It was about twelve-foot long! Couldn’t you watch where you were going?’

  10

  The boy was trembling with delayed shock, Martha could see. He brushed his long black hair out of his eyes and faced up to the Doctor’s angry scrutiny. ‘I. . . didn’t see it. We don’t come out here much.

  I’m. . . not. . . used to it out. . . h-here.’ Suddenly he looked much younger and very, very scared. Martha judged that he couldn’t have been much more than fifteen. He was looking around the wintry glade with sheer terror and confusion. Martha was secretly pleased that she was dealing with being in this place so much better than this apparent native. Here she was on an alien world and – besides the sabre-tooth encounter – she was cool as anything.

  The Doctor’s voice dropped and became kinder. ‘What’s your name, and who are you?’

  ‘Solin, sir –’

  ‘Doctor. And this is my friend, Martha. We’re here to help you.’

  ‘Help me?’

  The Doctor nodded firmly. ‘You, your people. The human settlement here.’

  ‘My family,’ the boy said. ‘We are the only people here. Under the dome. In Dreamhome. There are only three of us.’

  ‘Three!’ the Doctor smiled. ‘Well, that should make things a bit easier.’

  Solin’s face was creased with puzzlement. ‘But I don’t understand. . .

  Why would we need your help? We have everything we need in Dreamhome. Everything we will ever need. That’s what Father says.’

  ‘Hmm, he does, does he?’ smiled the Doctor. ‘Well, you saw what that sabre-tooth was like. She’s got wind of something. Something really, really bad is on its way.’ The Doctor did his heavy-frown thing, Martha noticed, when his eyebrows jumped and set themselves at a very serious angle. ‘You lot really need my help. And Martha’s.

  Martha’s help is indispensable, too.’

  ‘We already know something bad is coming,’ muttered the boy. He looked sullen.

  ‘What’s all this stuff?’ Martha was picking up pieces of futuristic equipment that had flown out of Solin’s knapsack. Solin took them from her, sighing at the damage. ‘I was taking pictures. That’s why 11

  I’m out here, in the forest. Normally I wouldn’t, but I thought. . . this is the last time, my last chance. And Father said he could send out the Staff and they would take all the pictures I wanted, of whatever I wanted. But it isn’t the same, is it?’

  ‘No,’ said Martha, though she couldn’t make head nor tail of what he was on about.

  ‘Why was it your last chance?’ asked the Doctor, testing him out.

  Solin was tying up his bag and hoisting it onto his back. ‘Because my father says that we have to leave this world. We have to get aboard the ship that brought us here and go somewhere else. He has sensed the danger, too, Doctor. Same as that sabre-tooth did. He knows we have to leave here. We’re already going, Doctor.’

  It took them some time to get through the woods onto the track that Solin assured them would lead to Dreamhome. As they went, ducking under branches and shimmying past trunks, the air was growing colder. The sky was closing in and darkening so they could see less and less of their new environment. There was something eerily quiet about the forest. To Martha, it seemed as if the whole place and all the remaining life forms in it were holding their breath. There was a curious atmosphere, of the whole place waiting for something dreadful to happen.

  ‘So you’ve lived here all your life?’ she called ahead to Solin, hoping that their voices would dissipate this feeling of anxiety.

  ‘I was born on the ship before we landed here,’ he replied. ‘I’ve never known anywhere else. This is my home.’

  To Martha’s eyes, he seemed unaccustomed to being in the forest.

  He tripped and swore a couple of times as he led them through the undergrowth, and he seemed, at times, unsure of the direction to take. The Doctor was studying him carefully, Martha noticed, just as he studied the strange plant life, all petrified by frost as they made their gradual progress.

  ‘I’ve lived in Dreamhome all my life,’ Solin admitted. ‘Father says there isn’t much point in our going outside. All of this. . . ’ he gestured at the twilit woods about them. ‘We can watch all of this on our 12

  screens. We can send out the staff for anything we might need from here. My father says it’s all much better for us, and safer, under the dome.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ said the Doctor thoughtfully. ‘But what about having a sense of adventure, eh? What about exploring places for yourself?’

  Solin looked piqued. ‘Well, I’m out here, aren’t I? I’ve disobeyed Father.’

  ‘Quite,’ grinned the Doctor. ‘Well done.’ Martha could see that the Doctor wasn’t that impressed by Solin’s sense of adventure. But why would he be, Martha wondered. The Doctor wandered about at will through all time and space, insatiably curious and amazed by everything he saw and experienced. He was never afraid of what he might come up against, and he didn’t see why anyone else should be fearful, either.

  ‘You’re settlers from Earth, then?’ the Doctor asked. ‘A scientific expedition?’

  Solin shook his head. ‘My father was a scientist once. But he retired here. He bought this world, many years ago.’

  ‘Bought?’ said the Doctor. ‘He must be rolling in it, your dad.’

  ‘He was an inventor, back on Earth. He made a lot of money in the Servo-furnishing industry.’

  ‘The what?’ Martha asked. But the Doctor shushed her. They had stopped at a gap in the trees. Ahead of them, in the frozen gloaming, the forest simply stopped. A shimmering force field blocked their way. And beyond it lay fresh spring grass, starred with daisies. A perfect lawn stretched several hundred yards ahead of them, running up to a series of verdant box hedges, which fitted neatly around what appeared to be a pale yellow mansion house.

  ‘Wow,’ Martha sighed. ‘That’s your Dreamhome, is it?’

  Solin looked relieved to be within sight of the building. ‘That’s right.

  We made it here at last.’ He glanced at the dark forest at their backs.

  ‘We’re late. Father will be furious.’

  ‘Won’t he be alarmed, that we’ve come visiting?’ asked the Doctor.

  ‘It’s true, we’ve hardly ever had visitors here.’ Solin said, moving towards the rippling air of the force field. ‘A couple of old cronies of 13

  Father’s. But mostly he’s turned his back on the rest of the universe. I imagine it will be a pleasant surprise indeed, that you’re here.’

  ‘I hope he’s friendly,’ said the Doctor, pulling a face. He was carefully watching what Solin did, as the teenager approached what appeared to be an old-fashioned red pillar box in the middle of the forest clearing. He swung open a panel on the front and jabbed at the buttons inside. Frustratingly, neither the Doctor nor Martha could see exactly which buttons he pressed. Immediately, a gap opened up in the transparent shield.

  ‘Quickly,’ Solin told them. ‘The door only opens for twenty seconds at a time. It’s a security thing. And the shields have been a bit unreli-able the past couple of days. We must go in right now.’

  The Doctor grinned. ‘After you, Martha,’ he said, and bent to have a good look at the red pillar box. ‘I like the style of it. Techno gizmos and whatsits disguised as old Earth tat. Very stylish. I’m looking forward to meeting your father, Solin.’

&n
bsp; Solin looked back at the Doctor and his face was glum and dark.

  Hmm, thought Martha, as she eased ahead and slipped through the door in the force shield. There’s something funny going on, definitely.

  That boy has got issues, I reckon.

  But, in the meantime, Martha was bowled over by what she discovered on the other side of the doorway. As soon as she passed through the shimmering, hissing shield, she found that the temperature was suddenly like a balmy midsummer evening. The sky above was clear and glinting with alien stars. The lawn beneath her feet rippled gently with luscious grass. She stamped the thick, clodded snow off her boots and sighed deeply. ‘I think I’m going to like Dreamhome, Solin,’

  she said.

  The Doctor stepped up behind her, gazing appreciatively at their new trappings. ‘I wouldn’t get too used to it,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Remember. The Voracious Craw’s on its way. This place’s days are numbered. Its hours are numbered. Its very minutes are ticking away. . . ’

  ‘But this place is shielded. . . ’ Martha said. ‘Surely the Craw thing can’t gobble its way through. . . Can it?’

  14

  ‘Oooh, yes,’ nodded the Doctor. ‘And that’s why we’re here. To make sure they are sufficiently alarmed.’

  As if on cue, a vile wailing noise erupted from the pillar box on the other side of the gap in the force shield. Martha and the Doctor covered their ears and whirled about to see Solin panicking at the controls.

  ‘What is it?’ the Doctor dashed over, brandishing his sonic screwdriver. He was like a gunslinger, Martha thought, the way that thing flew out of his pocket and into his hand.

  ‘It’s broken!’ Solin wailed, above the ghastly fracas. ‘Somehow. . .

  I’ve gone and broken the shields! Great holes are opening up all over the Dreamhome!’

  The Doctor angled in to have a go with his sonic. ‘Never mind. I bet it’s the Craw affecting the circuitry. It’s bound to be. It sets up this great wave of interference before it strikes. Let me see. I’ll just have a. . . ’

  ‘No, Doctor, you don’t understand,’ Solin cried. ‘The defences are down! They’ve never malfunctioned like this before! Dreamhome is vulnerable to outside attack now! And it’s all my fault! I’ve ruined everything!’

  15

  This was precisely the kind of thing the Doctor loved. ‘Let me have a go,’ he said, ‘I’m sure I can get it working again. In a flash, I bet you! I’ll just give it a good sonicking. . . ’

  Martha rolled her eyes, and saw that the boy’s agitation was way out of proportion. He looked appalled at himself suddenly. ‘I should never have gone out into the woods,’ he said. ‘Father is so right. I could have been killed. . . ’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said the Doctor, not really listening. His head was jammed inside the pillar box as he examined the workings of the force shields.

  ‘It all seems very straightforward to me – ooowwwwwww.’ A shower of sparks sent him spinning backwards. He sucked his burnt fingers ruefully.

  ‘We aren’t supposed to tamper with the workings of Dreamhome,’

  Solin said, in a doleful voice. ‘We are supposed to leave it all to the Servo-furnishings.’

  The Doctor was about to ask him what he was going on about, when Martha said: ‘And these Servo-furnishings. . . Would they happen to be the things heading across the lawn towards us?’

  ‘Oh,’ said the Doctor, taken aback. ‘Wow. They look just like. . . ’

  17

  ‘Oh no,’ said Solin, pitifully, as if he’d been caught out doing something really bad.

  Martha said, ‘They look just like a lawnmower and a water cooler.

  Why are they speeding towards us like that?’

  ‘D’you know, she’s right?’ laughed the Doctor delightedly, as they watched the machines come ambling at speed across the manicured grass towards them. ‘That’s brilliant! I love them! Look at them go!’

  ‘I’m in for it now,’ Solin sighed.

  Martha was quite correct. Dreamhome – or rather, the infinitely complex and advanced living computer at Dreamhome’s heart – had despatched the two Servo-furnishing robots that had been closest to the breach in the force shield. The lawnmower and the water cooler had both immediately ceased what they were doing by the tennis courts and now they were hastening towards the scene of the inci-dent. They bustled self-importantly up to the pillar box at the edge of the lawn, utterly ignoring the humanoids that stood there.

  ‘They’re fantastic, Solin! Proper robots! Proper futuristic robots!’

  The Doctor examined the Servo-furnishings as they busied themselves at the pillar box controls, flexing precision tools and soldering wires like mad.

  ‘Like something out of the 1950s,’ Martha said. ‘Like what people always thought the future was going to look like.’

  ‘You’re right,’ grinned the Doctor. ‘It’s all a bit Lost-in-Space-y, isn’t it?’

  One of the robots turned its head and seemed to look the Doctor up and down. With a certain amount of scathing sarcasm, the Doctor thought, glaring back at the electronic brain in its see-through head.

  ‘Tell me, Solin. Is everything in your house a robot?’

  ‘Nearly everything,’ Solin said. ‘That’s what my father made his for-tune from. He designed and built the Servo-furnishings. So humanity would never have to dirty their hands with menial tasks, ever again.’

  ‘Oh, really? Oh dear,’ the Doctor frowned. ‘There’s nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty once in a while. Machines like this can make life a bit too easy, you know. . . ’

  18

  Martha nudged him gently. ‘I think Solin agrees with you. That’s why he was out in the woods, taking pictures for himself, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Aha,’ said the Doctor. ‘And what –’

  But he was interrupted by a booming voice that came calling across the lawn. It was a very cultivated voice and its richly rounded vowels made Solin flinch, Martha noticed. ‘What is going on? Solin? What have you done? And who. . . who are these people?’ The voice lost some of its grandness towards the end, as its owner spied the Doctor and Martha waving hello.

  ‘Just keep on waving,’ the Doctor hissed through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll do the explaining. And I’ll say I damaged the force shield if you like, Solin.’

  The large windows of the wing of Dreamhome closest to them had shot up and a very tall and dignified figure was stepping out into the evening air. He had a mane of silvery hair and a very neatly trimmed beard. He wore silver-purple robes which again, Martha thought, looked very space age and futuristic to her. He was also wearing a deep purple cloak, which billowed out around him as he strode crossly towards the newcomers.

  ‘What have you done? You have endangered us all!’

  ‘Good, um, evening,’ called the Doctor. ‘I think everything’s under control now. I’m the Doctor and this is Martha and this is Solin and. . . ’

  ‘I know who Solin is,’ said the tall figure coldly. ‘He’s my son. I am Professor Ernest Tiermann. I own this world.’

  ‘You own the world, eh?’ grinned the Doctor. ‘That’s impressive.

  What kind of council tax do you pay on that, eh? A whole world!

  Imagine, Martha. I bet the heating bills are outrageous. And by the way, did you know that the whole place is in the most horrible danger?’

  Ernest Tiermann gazed down at the Doctor with cool, grey eyes.

  ‘What concern is that of yours. . . Doctor?’

  ‘I’m here to help!’ smiled the Doctor. ‘I came here because we detected humans. But there’s all sorts of life forms here. Sabre-tooths!

  We met a scared female out in the woods. We need to think about rescuing as many life forms as we can, really. Before the whatsit arrives.

  19

  The end of everything.’

  Tiermann was watching the Servo-furnishings finish up repairing the force field. With an almighty crackle of energy the shield came down once more, sealing them all
inside the dome which shimmered over the Dreamhome. Martha and the Doctor both heard Tiermann and his son give an audible sigh of relief. Now that the outside was firmly shut out, it seemed they could relax.

  ‘Don’t like the old outside much, do we?’ said the Doctor.

  ‘You’d better come into the house,’ Tiermann snapped. ‘Solin. You will be punished for your misadventures. Come along, all of you.’

  With that, Tiermann turned on his heel and led them towards the imposingly beautiful homestead, where he and his family had lived for as long as Solin had been alive.

  ‘Not much fun, your dad,’ Martha whispered, as they hurried across the lawn.

  ‘He’s got a lot on his mind,’ Solin told her. ‘And you know, leaving this place is going to break his heart.’

  As they were given their first glimpse of the interior of Dreamhome, Martha was beginning to understand why it would be such a difficult place to leave. It was the most luxurious and impressive home she had ever seen. The lustrous waxed wooden floors were so perfect and sheer it seemed a shame to stand on them. The walls were a glossy mahogany and the massive plate-glass windows were hung with the richest, most voluptuous curtains. And yet, for all the glamour and glitz of the furniture and fittings, there was nothing vulgar or overly ornate about the Dreamhome. It was all decorated with discreet good taste.

  All of it was immaculate, too. As they progressed from hallway to reception room and into a vast drawing room, Martha and the Doctor were aware of Servo-furnishings of all sizes and functions hovering around them: dusting, polishing and tidying as they went. In the drawing room where Tiermann curtly bid them sit and make themselves comfortable, there was even a teak drinks cabinet that set about pouring them a sweet sherry each.

  20

  ‘Thanks,’ Martha told the drinks cabinet uncertainly, taking her drink.