Doctor Who: BBC Eighth Doctor Adventures [025] - Interference - Book One (Shock Tactic)

Author:Lawrence Miles
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563555803
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 1999-10-14T22:00:00+00:00

10

Nowhere is Better than Here

(at last, Anathema)

Scene 17. The Attic of Sam’s House

[Flashback, black and white. Hearing the crashing sounds from downstairs, SAM’s FRIENDS jump to their feet. Only SAM remains seated, a confused look on her face.]

FRIEND 3: Bloody hell.

FRIEND 2: No way was that her dad.

FRLEND 1: Maybe he’s gone off his nut. Maybe he knows what we’re doing.

SAM: I’m in the Cold.

FRIEND 1 [panicking]: Shut her up!

FRIEND 2: Shh. You’ll scare her. [To SAM.] Sam? It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.

[FRIEND 1, meanwhile, is busy opening the hatch that leads down out of the attic.]

FRIEND 3: Where are you going?

FRIEND 1: Out. She’s losing it, look at her. I don’t want to be around when she goes schizo on us.

SAM: Sarah. I mustn’t see her. If I see her, I’ll recognise her when I meet her yesterday. There’ll be a paradox. Oh God. The Remote are part of the Faction, aren’t they?

FRIEND 1: See what I mean?

SAM [suddenly snapping]: Don’t‐open‐the‐hatch!

[Fade out.]

Sam reached for her neck, and clawed at the skin there, but she couldn’t feel anything. No receiver, no wodge of sticky tape attaching any alien hardware to her face.

She was almost disappointed.

The alien woman – Compassion – was standing in front of her again, framed against the light from the other side of the doorway. The light was red, and great stripes of shadow kept falling across the landscape outside, but Compassion was blocking Sam’s view, so she couldn’t see exactly what was going on out there. She assumed she was back in the hotel room, although the scenery seemed to have changed. A side effect of the hallucinations, maybe. Certainly, everything around here looked like another set.

When she’d first come to her senses, she’d assumed there were no walls around her, but now she realised there was actually one wall, smooth and curved and greyish‐white, with no visible corners. She was inside a small dome, then, the doorway in front of her being the only obvious exit. Apart from the plastic chair under her backside, the only furnishings were the pieces of hi‐tech hardware that had been set up around her. There were half a dozen of them arranged in a ring, each one a kind of bent silver claw, with the sharpened tips pointing towards the chair. The claws were smooth, each one moulded out of a single piece of whatever it was, almost looking as if they’d torn through the floor from somewhere on the next level down and were now trying to form a fist around her. They were more like sculptures than pieces of technology.

Sam kept prodding the skin around her throat, just in case. Compassion was looking at her in a funny way.

‘Have you lost something?’ the woman asked.

‘The receiver,’ Sam mumbled. ‘Where is it?’

Compassion felt her own ear, apparently just a reflex action. ‘What receiver?’

‘I was in that place again. Hallucinating.’

Compassion nodded. ‘I just retrieved you. You can pick up all kinds of signals, when you’re moving between here and the skin of the Cold.

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