Doctor Who: Dark Progeny by Steve Emmerson

Author:Steve Emmerson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563538370
Publisher: Bbc Pubns
Published: 2001-08-15T10:00:00+00:00

116

Dark Progeny

The corridor outside was short and mud-splattered. An all-canvas construction that whipped and rattled in the wind. There were dull yellow lights strung from the ceiling, dirty and underpowered, which threw up gloomy spectres on the flapping surfaces. Fitz made his way rapidly to the far end and crouched by the flap that represented another door. Beyond was a further stretch of corridor, similar in construction but much longer. It was empty, so Fitz slipped through and risked following the sound of the voices.

There was a further door about halfway down and, as he approached, Fitz could hear the arguments much more clearly. Kneeling by the door, simply a double flap loosely stitched, Fitz found he could peer through the gaps down the seams. Beyond was a large open area lined with long tables and benches, evidently some kind of meeting hall. Men in orange overalls milled about in the distance, grumbling among themselves, while on a raised platform nearby, partly cut off from his view, Fitz could just make out the great bulk of a bearded man beside the slender shape of Ayla Damsk.

Ayla was speaking, her voice raised above the muttering of the assembled rabble.

‘We can talk to him tomorrow morning. He needs to rest. He’s in no state –’

‘We can talk to him tonight,’ the bearded man argued, and Fitz instantly recognised the voice as that of Jörgan, who had been so keen to interrogate Fitz earlier. ‘I say it’s quite obvious who and what he is. Considering the problems we’re up against here, there can only be one explanation – rival agents! That man Fitz is obviously one of them. He must have been treating the soil when the collapse took him by surprise.’

While he spoke he swept his arms with energetic gestures and jabbed the air with his finger. He was a crowd-pleaser, a showman, and a general murmur of agreement rose from the mob.

‘I don’t believe he’s an agent,’ Ayla said, her voice equally firm and emphatic.

‘And if he’s unable to remember who he is there’s not a lot of good in questioning him, is there?’

‘This loss-of-memory stuff is just a put-on,’ Jörgan claimed. ‘He’s having us all on.’ Fitz saw Jörgan turn his back on Ayla and point with his thumb. ‘There,’

he said, jabbing his own back, ‘see where it’s wet.’

More ugly growling. Things were likely to turn nasty, Fitz thought, and he didn’t want to end up on the messy end of a man like Jörgan. He began to back away silently from the door, but it was only when he rose from his knees that he felt the hand big as a shovel grasp him by the scruff of the neck.

∗ ∗ ∗

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