Doctor Who - Nuclear Time (11 page)

'You didn't seem that fussed when we were writing you a fat paycheque every month,' said Geoff.

'And what was I going to spend it on? My girlfriend? My wife? My kids? I virtually sleep in the workshop so a house was out of the question.'

'There

were

the

inter-departmental

singles

nights.'

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NUCLEAR TIME

Albert laughed bitterly. 'Oh great, yeah thanks, that's fantastic, cheers, Dad. You might as well pick a girlfriend for me yourself. It's pathetic.'

'As pathetic as
building
your own girlfriend?'

The words hit Albert like a slap in the face, and he faltered for a minute before continuing. 'Isley is the only thing that is mine; her face, her body, her mind are the only aspects of my life that I have control over.

You've taken everything else from me, every single thing, and now we can't go back - there's no way out of this! You took my life away six years ago on that beach in California and burned it, and then
this
was my life. This was my life because you gave me nothing else, Geoff - nothing! And now even that's gone now.

You might as well have put a bullet through my brain and saved me the effort!' Tears were flying down Albert's cheeks now as he waved his hands about in anger and frustration, his shirt already soaked with sweat.

Geoff just stood there in silence and weathered the abuse until, finally, the scientist dropped to the ground, cradling his head in his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.

'I'm sorry,' was all Geoff could say. He slumped to his haunches and put his arms around Albert's heaving shoulders. 'We'll sort it out. I'll sort it out. I promise.'

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DOCTOR WHO

Albert slumped back and rested his head against the side wall, looking upwards into the bright rectangle of sky above his head, the evening sun dipping down below the roof arches. He breathed in slowly and exhaled deeply. His eyes were red and raw, but there was still a spark shining dimly amongst the tears.

'So...' Albert breathed again. 'What do we do now?'

Geoff straightened up once more and followed Albert's gaze upwards. He sighed. 'We've been ordered to go and oversee the clean-up operation.

They're getting rid of everything, destroying the evidence. Officially the last six years never existed.'

Albert wiped an eye with his palm. 'And how do they intend to do that? We've got fifty operational models in the basement. They're virtually indestructible.'

'Ever heard of Appletown?' Geoff asked.

Albert shook his head. 'Where is it?'

'Colorado. It's an old nuclear testing site; they're giving us the go-ahead for one more nuke. Off the record, of course.'

The scientist cracked a haunted smile then, 'Ha, don't ever let me accuse you of not being thorough.'

He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, nowadays almost completely grey. 'But what

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NUCLEAR TIME

about the Limited Test Ban treaty? It's not going to be easy covering up a mushroom cloud.'

'President Reagan's administration has decided the Cold War needs some hotting up - no more skulking and stockpiling, it's time to show that we won't be intimidated. The President feels this is a good enough justification to test the boundaries of what the USSR will put up with. We're asking for trouble, deliberately.'

Albert exhaled slowly. 'Jeez.'

Geoff smiled back. 'Jeez indeed.'

117

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 3.28 p.m.

The desert had been swept clean across a quarter-mile radius from the edges of Appletown, and the Doctor was glad of his boots as he stepped over the border and into the rough wasteland. Here the rocks were bigger, the ground more uneven and the undisturbed sand held a darker hue than the recently overturned land that made up the foundation of the nuclear test site.

Out in the open, the scorching heat of the sun was heavy and oppressive and the deep blue sky hung dense and low. The Doctor had long since slung his jacket over his shoulder, but the itchy fabric against his back was still making him

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sweaty and uncomfortable. He unhooked a button on his shirt and shielded his brow to peer into the shimmering blur of the horizon. The ground rippled like water, but he was sure that the darker streaks of a building were beginning to appear in the golden haze.

Spurred on by this encouraging brown smudge, the Doctor resumed his saunter, whistling a jaunty tune and watching in mild wonder as small fragments of gravel bounced along the ground toward his boots with each step that he took.

Then time stuttered once more.

The Doctor yelled in agony as every molecule in his body was shunted forwards half a metre without any intermediate shift, and he choked on air that was suddenly being sucked into his mouth rather than exhaled. He doubled over in pain, stumbling backwards as his boots scuffed the coarse ground.

Another shift, gentler this time, and the Doctor's personal time was restored to its anti-clockwise progression. He placed a hand on his tender stomach. Things were only going to get worse as he continued — the more he interacted with the world around him, the more the universe would protest.

But he didn't have a choice.

He resumed his walk once more, moving briskly to hide the shake in his legs, from himself
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NUCLEAR TIME

more than anything. The horizon maintained its constant line as the minutes ticked inexorably away, and the Doctor found himself wishing for the slope of a distant mountain range to slide into view, something to show that he was making progress.

He glanced over his shoulder. Appletown was no more than a reflected cascade of sunlight behind him, and in the dead silence of the desert he began to feel rather lonely.

He

found

a

boulder

further

along,

and

unceremoniously dumped his jacket on it before slumping onto its vaguely horizontal surface. He reached down to retrieve a spray of brush that had been snapped off its parent stalk. It was black and ashy, reforming into a more organic-looking composition as he rubbed his fingers along the stalk. He moved to put it in his mouth and have a chew and then thought better of it. He fumbled in the inner pocket of his jacket and whipped out the sonic screwdriver.

The familiar crackle of its Geiger setting made him gingerly return it to the ground, the stalk reattaching to the bush as he moved it closer.

Fascinating. If he could already see the effects of his actions before he caused them, did that mean that he was obliged to follow a particular course? For these moments, moving backwards through a
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universe of progression, was every minute detail of his life mapped out before him? He rubbed his chin and shivered at the implications, then patted the thick cotton of his jeans with a loud series of slaps as if announcing a change in mood.

He turned back in what he was sure was the direction he had been walking in and opened his mouth in surprise. Whilst he had been ruminating, three dark green dots had appeared on the horizon, and now they were steadily growing larger before his eager eyes. The dots became blurs, and the blurs became rectangles, and soon the atmospheric haze retreated to reveal three large, camo-painted army trucks thundering in the Doctor's direction.

'Civilisation!' The Doctor grinned.

But his face fell as the trucks approached, reversing towards him at high speed. Their rear hatches were cracked and broken, hinges dented and deformed like the rest of the vehicle by a spattering of bullet holes that covered their back ends.

The Doctor's hair spread across his face in the gust that accompanied the vehicles as they sped past him in the direction of Appletown, the unfastened ends of their covering tarpaulins snapping and cracking along the metal side panels. The soldiers in the cabins looked at him wearily as they drew alongside - a tired sadness

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NUCLEAR TIME

like they were too exhausted to care but thought they should at least pretend. The Doctor rubbed his nose and hoped that the dark brown stains that streaked the green paintwork of the trucks were only rust, then turned and continued on his way. He had no desire to return to Appletown just yet.

It was half an hour later when the Doctor checked his watch once more, hopping awkwardly from foot to foot in an attempt to gauge the length of his shadow against the position of the sun against the hands that ticked across the gold-plated timepiece.

Roughly he jammed his thumb into the air, blotting out the sun, and felt some consolation in the discovery that his personal time line was running neither faster nor slower than the world around him; a perfect negative progression. The Doctor wasn't entirely sure whether that was a positive thing or not.

He checked behind himself, and a smile spread across his face as he spotted the familiar shimmer of the trucks returning from their excursion to the town.

'About time!' he shouted, 'I was getting lonely. Now, how about a lift?'

Dark eyes fixed firmly on the reversing convoy he began sidestepping swiftly from side to side,
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DOCTOR WHO

trying to line himself up with the approaching vehicles. His gaze alighted on a faint set of tyre marks a few metres to his right and, with a hop and a step, he planted himself firmly between the tracks. Triumphantly he raised his arms and began gesticulating wildly in an attempt to alert one of the drivers to his presence.

The trucks roared ever closer and the Doctor began to splutter as engine fumes coalesced out of the atmosphere around him, dust blowing away from the markings on either side defining the tracks as they approached. But still they made no sign of acknowledgement,

continuing

to

approach

at

considerable speed.

His face fell. 'Middle of the desert, in a hurry, weapons testing site, and the fact that to them I must appear to be waving goodbye...' The right-hand vehicle was almost upon him now, a rapidly diminishing gap of only a few metres. 'Not exactly the kind of situation where you'd need to check your mirrors!'

He leapt into the air as high as he could as the clanking back panel of the truck slammed into him, long fingers grasping for a handhold on the camo-painted wood. He hooked his elbows over the edge and hung on for dear life as his boots kicked dangerously close to the rocky ground that was now hurtling past beneath his feet.

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NUCLEAR TIME

There was a rough jolt as one of the wheels glanced a particularly large boulder and the Doctor found himself flipped into the rear of the truck, his stomach catching the panel as he toppled into the shadow of the covered compartment, winding him. It took several empty gasps for his lungs to kick back into action and he gulped in great mouthfuls of stale air as he rolled slowly onto his back and cradled his head in his hands.

Eventually he opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. So he closed them again.

Cautiously, he reopened one eye.

Standing over him, impossibly still, swaying gently with the motion of the truck, were seventeen citizens of Appletown, and in his direct line of sight was Mr Sanderson.

The truck lurched again and the Doctor slid across the floor, grabbing the man's pinstriped trouser leg to halt himself. It felt warm and soft to the touch - too human for comfort - and he snapped his hand away quickly, wiping it on his jacket as he swayed slowly to his feet.

His face drew level with the man he would dismantle nearly two hours from now. 'Yeah,' he muttered, half to himself and half to the impassive figure.

He jutted his jaw and stared into the grey-green gel-eyeballs as they blinked gently. 'Sorry about that,' he finished.

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DOCTOR WHO

Absently, he lifted his hand to his neck and began to scratch. Then he stuck a couple of fingers down his collar and rubbed down his collarbone, and his other hand soon joined it as the Doctor began to scratch himself all over.

'Urgh!' he declared. 'I'm all itchy!' With a concerted effort he stopped scratching and drew his fringe away from his face. 'Why am I itchy? I'm not usually itchy, am I? I'm far too busy to worry about being itchy all the time.' He spread his palms, then flipped them face down in front of him and began to rotate slowly, watching intently as the hairs on the backs of his hands lifted gently and moved ever so slightly. He stopped as he turned to face the rear of the truck. 'An electromagnetic field,' he murmured.

He strode over to the back wall of the driver's cabin and yanked open a metal hatch. Inside was a large coil of metal wrapped around a series of blinking tubes that lined a large iron core.

The Doctor screwed up his face as the itchiness increased even further and whistled through his teeth.

'Phew, that's one serious bit of kit for the eighties.' He turned to the nearest figure. 'You're an expensive lot to maintain, aren't you? Don't you know there's a recession on?'

The figure snapped its hand up and slapped the Doctor's hand away from the panel in an
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NUCLEAR TIME

awkward motion. The Doctor ducked out of instinct, yelping in pain as he knocked the open hatch closed to avoid the second blow. But the blow didn't come. The Doctor squinted into the shadow at the sunken face that looked back at him. 'Hold on a minute.' The sonic appeared in his hand, emitting a sharp burst of emerald light. 'You're not an android.'

He flipped the device in his hand and examined the catch. 'You're one hundred per cent human being!

Why are you in a truck full of killer robots?' He paused for a second. 'Hold on, why am I in a truck full of killer robots?' He shook the thought from his head and refocused his attentions on the human.

The man stared at him blankly before uttering a string of incomprehensible syllables and slumping back onto the wooden plank that stood in for a seat along the edges of the truck.