Doctor Who: The Deadstone Memorial by Trevor Baxendale

Author:Trevor Baxendale
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563486220
Publisher: Diamond Comic Distributors
Published: 2004-10-04T10:00:00+00:00

‘Well, now that I’ve got the right frequency, I can come up with something to block the signal. It should act as a sort of psychic shield, until we can locate the actual source and nullify it.’ The Doctor got to his feet. ‘In fact, I’ll make a start now. There’s quite a lot to do.’

‘Hold on,’ said Trix. ‘I thought you said there were three things worrying you.’

‘What?’ The Doctor did a quick count on his fingers. ‘Oh yes: thirdly, I’m worried about Fitz. He’s been missing since lunchtime, and he should have met us here or at the TARDIS.’

‘TARDIS?’ queried Hazel.

‘Our headquarters,’ Trix said. ‘It’s on the High Street.’

Cal said, ‘Why don’t you call him? Doesn’t he have a mobile phone?’

‘Fitz is a bit old-fashioned like that,’ Trix smiled.

‘Nothing wrong with being a bit old-fashioned,’ said the Doctor.

‘Perhaps there’s no network coverage on the planet Mongo,’ Hazel whispered to Cal, who sniggered.

‘Actually they use a hyper-modulated visio-graph net on Mongo,’ said the Doctor.

Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t he ever give up?’ she asked Trix.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘Never.’

When Fitz woke up he felt instantly nauseous. It took a few seconds for the sickness to diminish sufficiently for him to actually open his eyes.

And when his vision cleared, he finally realised he was lying on his side, on a concrete floor, bound and gagged. Gradually he remembered what had happened. He could see the old table from where he lay, and the grey tarpaulin that covered it.

Painfully, Fitz twisted around until he could sit up. His head was pounding, and he could tell there was a big, tender lump on the back of it. From this position, however, he could see the big shape that lay beneath the tarp.

Then he heard the garage door open and someone came in.

‘Oh, you’re awake,’ said Bernard Harris.

The relief was evident in the teacher’s voice, but Fitz didn’t care much for it. ‘No thanks to you,’ he said, but, thanks to the gag in his mouth, it sounded more like, ‘Mm mmm gnh uhhh.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Harris. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I had no choice.’

‘Hhh ugh mmm!’ replied Fitz tersely.

‘I don’t know what you and your pals want here,’ said Harris, ‘but I can’t let you have the ghost.’

Fitz let loose with a torrent of grunts and snarls. He hadn’t failed to notice that Harris had a heavy winter coat on, and was now in the process of pulling 128

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