Doctor Who_The Triple Knife by Jenny T. Colgan

Author:Jenny T. Colgan [Colgan, Jenny T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785943713
Amazon: 1785943715
Barnesnoble: 1785943715
Publisher: Penguin Group UK
Published: 2018-07-29T23:00:00+00:00

PICNIC AT ASGARD

Monday 5 May 5147

Stormcage

‘Oi!’ was the first thing I heard.

This was a good sign. Definitely boded well. I risked cracking open an eyelid.

‘What the blooming heck do you think you’re doing?’

Trying not to throw up would have been the honest answer.

It was the Time Hopper. Traded it with Frodene in the showers for ninety-five sugar mice that had unaccountably arrived anonymously 4,600 years past their sell-by date; and an incredibly rare and holy protective relic Father Octavian sent me years ago, with a letter begging that I keep it by me always in my quest for true repentance. Frodene likes it glinting on her tail.

The Hopper can’t get you past the Tesla force field, of course, but – if you’re happy to stay in one place – amazingly, it works perfectly. Here I was, still in my cell, geographically perfect; but on the very day the cell was being built. The bars weren’t even fitted yet.

‘Where’d you spring from, then?’

I noticed the workman’s surprised voice sounded slightly muffled, then realised to my annoyance that I couldn’t breathe. They hadn’t oxygenated the area yet. So annoying.

‘Sorry! Gotta go!’ I said in a slightly strangulated voice, quickstepping over his tools and stopping merely to grab his keycard and his oxygen supply.

I am almost one hundred per cent sure… maybe seventy-nine per cent sure… that one of his colleagues would have got to him with back-up oxygen in time.

And after that, we would both need a day off.

Asgard

He was waiting, arms folded, leaning against the TARDIS, pretending he wasn’t fidgeting. He hates waiting. If he’s not arriving in the nick of time, it isn’t worth it.

‘Come on!’ he said. ‘It’s open and everything! We’re missing it!’

‘Hello, Sweetie.’

‘I thought,’ he said, unfolding his arms, ‘you only called people that when you couldn’t remember their names.’

‘Not true,’ I replied, ditching the stolen helmet. ‘It’s also if I can’t remember their gender. Anyway, I had to stop at the market.’

He looked dubiously at the wicker basket I’d brought. ‘What are we having to eat?’

‘Stop being fussy.’

‘I just want to—’

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘If you’re picking the location, I’m picking the food. And, by the way, the location is ridiculous.’

He turned round, gleefully, the vast golden gates spread out before us, shining like mad in the morning sun. ‘Isn’t it?!’

ASGARD™. A planet-sized theme park. It is ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. ‘A celebration of all things legendary.’ The skies were a heaving, rolling pink, always with a strategic ray of sun bursting through triumphantly; you could take part in a great fire funeral, or join the Beating Tunnel Ship of 10,000 Drums ride; or fly mechanical eagles through thrilling rock falls. They have a 5,000-metre waterfall with a hotel built into the cave behind it that’s lit entirely by naturally occurring prisms.

‘This place is so tacky,’ I said, as we walked through the vast bright shining gates towards the Rainbow Bridge, with thousands of other excited-looking tourists; children bubbling with excitement, wearing their toy winged helmets and brandishing bendy hammers indiscriminately and then being told off for it.

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