Doctor Who Eighth Doctor Adventures 48 by Dark Progeny

Author:Dark Progeny
Format: epub

114 Dark Progeny ‘I’m assuming that the postnatal records are kept by Colonel Peron,’ she said quietly as they went. ‘I set up a substructural glitch on her machine. When she turns it on, her entire personal system will collapse.’ ‘She’ll call comp maintenance,’ he said. Opening the door to let them in, Veta nodded. ‘I also set up an intercept on her next call to comp maintenance. The call will be rerouted.’ ‘Where?’ Striding across the living area, Veta switched on the comp and Josef watched the WorldCorp logo curling through the air. ‘Right here,’ Veta said, slumping into the seat beside the comp. She patted the arm of the chair and invited him to join her, but he floundered in the doorway refusing to settle. Feeling exhilarated and abruptly more alive than she had done for months, Veta grinned at him. All we can do now is wait,’ she said. ‘Yeah,’ Josef said bleakly. ‘Wait to be called into the lion’s den.’ Having spent God-knows-how-long drifting in and out of nightmares about being devoured by the ground and savaged by legions of dog-headed barbarians, Fitz decided he’d had enough bad dreams for one day. He took a deep breath to evaluate the pain levels in his poor, racked body, and realised with some considerable relief that he felt much better than he had any right to do. Sitting up on the bunk, he prodded experimentally at the monitor, trying to locate the off switch. The thing began to screech in alarm, and his poking intensified until it fell sullenly quiet. Alert for the sound of boots coming clomping, he was thankful to hear only silence. There was a storm brewing outside and the clamour of the nearby building site had vanished. He tugged the sensor wires free and hung them over the machine. Swinging his long legs over the side of the bunk, he immediately regretted moving when a wave of nausea hit him. He sat with his head in his hands until it passed, then got up gingerly to assess his balance. He was a bit shaky but at least he was able to remain reasonably upright. He felt as though he’d had maybe one too many on an empty stomach, but that feeling he was equipped to cope with from long experience. His clothes had been taken and he was wearing a flimsy white gown that would make him a tad conspicuous out in the storm. He wondered if Ayla had been the one to undress him, and his cheeks flushed at the thought. There was something improper about a woman seeing you in the buff when you weren’t

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