Doctor Who PDA15 - Last Man Running (4th) by Chris Boucher

Author:Chris Boucher
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-07-13T02:42:31+00:00

Looking. Always looking. Look for the opening. Look for your opponent’s fear. If you cannot find fear look for desire. Both are weaknesses that can be used against them.

Leela saw the weakness the Doctor had been probing for.

‘You are a firster,’ she mocked and, remembering what Rinandor had said to her in the forest, she added for good measure, ‘You have the name, you have the frame and you sound the same.’

‘I’m a toody.’ There was no smirking now. This was a challenge to his identity.

‘I do not think so,’ she sneered.

‘You’re not suggesting that you’re doing all this for us toodies are you,’ the Doctor said, frowning. ‘You can’t be that self deluding. How many of us have you killed so far?’

‘Who cares about that?’ Leela was smirking now. ‘He was not deluding himself. He was deluding stupid toodies. It is not difficult for a firster to do, Thedoctor.’

Monly’s face twisted with anger. Abruptly the projection disappeared. The Doctor leaned close to Leela and muttered,

‘I think you were right about the trap. He wouldn’t have been so forthcoming if he thought we were able to get out of here.’

‘What do you think he will do now?’ Leela whispered.

‘Make a mistake if he’s angry enough. Be ready to move.’

Leela did not bother to acknowledge the pointless advice.

Her silent glare spoke for her.

The Doctor smiled to himself. If they got out of this in one piece he must give her some advice about tact and diplomacy. It was something he knew he himself had always had a natural talent for. He stuck his hands in his pockets and made a show of wandering slowly away, stopping occasionally to look at the wall like some casual visitor to an art gallery. After a moment or two he forgot that it was a charade and lost himself in the wonder of what he was seeing. He was about to put his hand on an intriguing vision when Leela appeared beside him.

‘It did not work,’ she muttered.

‘Patience,’ the Doctor said. ‘This machine is reactive. It takes time to react.’

‘Doctor, what is Lentic?’

‘Lentic? Where did you hear that name?’

‘I think it was in the machine. What does it mean?’

Directly in front of them the wall blazed with sudden light.

Involuntarily the Doctor took a step backwards and found Leela was already there, already in the half-crouch of her fighting stance,, Out of the light four identical figures stepped forward and fanned out in front of them. They all had long dark hair and bright brown eyes. They were all dressed in short tunics of nondescript animal skins and crude calf-length moccasins, and they were all armed with razor-sharp hunting knives. They all dropped into identical half-crouched fighting stances.

All of them were Leela.

Feerlenator was tired. That was not a good sign, he knew.

There was a time when he had enjoyed the politicking. There had been real satisfaction in the climb up the corporate ladder of the OIG; move and countermove had felt like a contest for grown-ups played for pride and other worthwhile prizes.

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