Doctor Who - Telos Novellas - 08 - Shell Shock by Simon A. Forward

Author:Simon A. Forward [Forward, Simon A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781903889169
Google: fpkHAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1903889162
Publisher: Telos Pub Ltd
Published: 2003-05-15T07:00:00+00:00

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Scrounger can’t remember exactly when Ranger arrived on the Beach. The days tend to blur together in his mind. But he can remember exactly how it happened.

The thought of running from the newcomer, as he shuffled down from the cliffs toward the shore, never occurred to Scrounger, nor to any of the others, not even timid little Snapdragon.

Of course, none of them had their names until Ranger came.

Ranger was done fighting. It was evident in his hunched walk and in his tired eyes.

In his warm grin, too, even though it sometimes flashed across his face like a nervous thing. Ranger was just a new creature on the Beach that day; a tall creature who’d crawled out of the cave late like he was afraid of the daylight. He was all beat up like the older warriors that Scrounger generally avoided in his forays out across the seabed.

And the man’s armour, the colour of mud and weeds, was hanging off him in tatters.

Scrounger and Snapdragon stood their ground, forward of the others, following the stranger’s slow shuffle to the sea. They eyed each other curiously as he stood there in the wind, salt water washing his boots.

When he turned and saw them he laughed. ‘Walkin’ toolkits, look at you! Shit, you little guys are smart.’ Snapdragon’s miniature shell, like a compressed egg of plastic, caught the man’s eye first. ‘You’re lookin’ a little dented though. Like you been through the wars.’

Ranger crouched down over them, shivering as if against a bitter cold – even though the incoming breeze was light. He stuck his finger out to tease Snapdragon, only to think better of it when Snapdragon’s sharp, if tiny, pincers nipped the air. But he held that grin. He stuffed one of his shaking hands inside his pack; not, as it first appeared, to steady it, but to retrieve a curio from within. The object, Ranger demonstrated, bristled with blades, cork-screws and, well, gadgets. He waved it at Scrounger. ‘You’re just like one of these bad boys, ain’t you?’

Scrounger grew excited. Was this to be a gift from the newcomer? He was aware of Ranger’s eyes scrutinising him properly for the first time.

He would always remember liking those round fish-eyes, gleaming in that sun-cooked oval face.

‘That’s some shell you got there,’ added Ranger. He glanced around the others, assembled behind Scrounger and Snapdragon. ‘Smart little guys, yeah!’

Ranger pocketed the multi-bladed knife, and Scrounger realised that it wasn’t a present for him after all.

‘Name’s Ranger.’ He extended that finger again. ‘Pleasure’s mine.’

Later, lazily, Ranger lobbed something like a stone into the sea. It exploded like a mine, and he waded out to collect the few dead fish that floated in on the waves.

Scrounger wondered if he should help gather them in. Favour for favour; you had to earn a friend. That was the way life worked, wasn’t it? By the time he’d made up his mind, though, Ranger was all done.

Scrounger felt an inexplicable twinge at having let the opportunity slide.

As the

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