The Resurrection Casket by Justin Richards

Author:Justin Richards [Richards, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Comics & Graphic Novels, General, Media Tie-In, Fiction
ISBN: 9780563486428
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 2006-06-13T07:00:00+00:00

‘Soon now,’ Smithers agreed. ‘Power returning. Systems online soon. Then steam no more.’

‘That’s right. The sooner we can dump this excess weight and antiquated technology, the better.’

Rose shuddered. The steam technology was just a makeshift solution to the lack of technology in the zeg. Who knew how dangerous and powerful these robots must really be? Inadvertently, without even realising she was doing it, she repositioned herself slightly. Her foot pushed at the soft weight at the end of the cupboard and it shifted.

There was a thump as something moved or fell.

Silence in the room outside.

Then: ‘What was that?’ Smithers’s scraping voice demanded.

‘I don’t know. . . Unless.’

Through the crack in the door, Rose could see Sally approaching the cupboards. She stopped right outside the door, looking, it seemed, directly at Rose.

‘Must have been our young friend in the cupboard,’ Sally said.

And she pulled open the cupboard door.

‘I can assure you that this came from Glint’s treasure,’ McCavity told the Doctor. ‘Can’t we, darling?’ he murmured as he took a chain from round his neck. Hanging from it was a gold medallion. He hesitated a moment, then handed it to the Doctor.

‘How do you know that?’ the Doctor asked.

The medallion was plain – no engraving or inscription. Just flat, polished gold. It was heavy, and it fitted neatly into the palm of the Doctor’s hand. McCavity seemed unable to take his eyes from it.

‘Just accept that I do.’

‘Well, if you’re sure. But, I mean, it has been known for you to buy dud Glint stuff assuming it’s real. Hasn’t it? No offence.’

Offence or not, Dugg’s eyes narrowed as he waited for his master’s reaction.

But McCavity smiled thinly. ‘It’s genuine,’ he said. ‘I know.’ Again, his voice dropped to barely a murmur: ‘Don’t I, Larissa, my darling?’

85

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