A bulky figure
broke into the small clearing to gaze with reverence and disgust, upon
the twitching body at his feet. He was dressed in the typical attire of
an early nineteenth century labourer.
Another swarthy bearded man joined him at his shoulder. ‘A fiend is it now, Marlok?’ The scorn was noticeable in his voice.
‘Aye, a fiend.
It’s killed one of our own...poor Quebus.’ Solemnly, Marlok shook his
head and hung it in shame. ‘It’s time it was finished,’ Removing the
bulky pistol from his belt, Marlok plunged into the all engulfing forest
as a whining howl shook the unearthly silence left in his wake…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
eri
stumbled drunkenly into the main console room and stared at the
oscillating central column atop the gleaming main console. The vertical
motion of the column did little to help her heaving stomach:
‘What a night!’ she murmured, clutching the door frame for support. Suddenly she felt a heavy hand slap onto her back.
‘Good morning,
Peri. I trust you slept well?’ said the Doctor, like a beaming early
morning sun, with a freshness of vitality that defied Peri’s imagination
this early, bounced across to the console
Peri would have
been violently sick on his back if she had not restrained herself.
‘Slept well? This machine of yours was bucking about like a bronco! A
storm at sea would’ve been calmer.’
Lovingly, the
Doctor console the console, stroking its sleek lines gently. ‘Don’t
listen to her old girl. I still think you’re wonderful.’
‘That’s rich,
you care more for that damn instrument panel than you do for me.’
screeched Peri, trying to remain calm but failing miserably.
‘Rubbish,’
intoned the Doctor, ‘it’s just that the TARDIS is a very sensitive
machine. It needs a bit of love and affection. I can’t help what it
does, after all, it’s about as predictable as English weather.’ Just to
make sure the TARDIS wasn’t offended, the Time Lord gave the console
another pat.
Deciding she had
lost this one to the Doctor’s calm and charm, she sidled her way to his
side and gazed nonchalantly at one of the flashing indicator screens.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Who knows?’ replied the Doctor, cheerfully.
Peri doubted if he did. ‘Look, can’t you control this contraption of yours?’
Rather
indignantly, the Time Lord replied, ‘Who wants to control it? That’s the
whole point of travelling in the TARDIS, the thrill of the unexpected’
His words were about to ring disastrously true.
eing
hunted for the first time in his pitiful unexciting life meant little
to Quebus Monkin at this precise moment. With heart threatening to
‘thud’ its way out of his chest, all Quebus realised was that he was
being hunted. His life was in danger and in such situations his main
intention was to save his neck.
