Doctor How and the Deadly Anemones

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Authors: Mark Speed
Tags: Humor, Science-Fiction, Time travel
society.”
    “I have beings on it,” said How. “I’m clearing up that part of their mess too. I’ve a good mind to send them a bill for that as well.”
    “Your problem is that you never do yourself any favours, Doctor. You never take the easy route of compromise.”
    “You mean appeasement ,” said the Doctor. “You’re right. Compromise is an ugly word, Dolt. Once something has been compromised, it is no longer of any use. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this analysed.”
    “But I understand you have even lost your Spectrel, Doctor. This is why the Council are so concerned. A Time Keeper without his Spectrel… It is unheard of.”
    “She’s not lost ,” said the Doctor hotly. “I just don’t know quite where she is at the moment.”
    “But –” protested Dolt.
    “Lost is another ugly word. A ship is lost if it is sunk. A battle is only lost if you give up hope. I have never ‘lost’ anything, Dolt, and I don’t intend to start losing by making absurd compromises. I have work to do. Good day to you.” He rose from behind his desk, glaring at Dolt and compelling him to rise in tandem.
    “I shall need regular reports, Doctor How. Detailed reports. And I can’t stop the Rindans taking this further, you know. They’re already making a bit of a fuss.”
    Doctor How held the door open for Dolt, who stomped through on legs that had never made the adjustment to Earth’s lower gravity. He turned to face the Doctor.
    “I suggest you –”
    “Thank you, Mr Dolt. Operational emergency procedures dictate that I must get on with the task in hand. If the Galactic Council considers that the illegal aliens are still a threat then the emergency status still stands, does it not?”
    Dolt made silent movements with his mouth like a goldfish.
    “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you so much for your input.” He shut the door firmly and went back to his desk. He took out his Tsk Army Ultraknife and thought at it for a fraction of a second. He held it against the end of the mandible that was scorched. It took a few seconds longer than he had thought it would, but the Ultraknife cut through it, leaving a fresh edge. He took a few more seconds to cut a sample from that, then put them both in his pocket. He didn’t know exactly where his Spectrel was, but he could still give her samples to analyse.
    The mandible itself had arrived carefully packaged by Peterson to prevent it from cutting itself loose. She’d used wedges of polystyrene to hold it in place inside a piece of folded cardboard. He carefully wrapped it again. “One for the trophy cabinet,” he said under his breath, and set off back home.

 
    Kevin had taken a Tube to Stockwell and then a bus up to Tulse Hill. A seat on the upper deck gave him a bird’s eye view of his estate as the bus climbed the hill. It was the first time he’d been back in days. Up until a week ago he’d been the go-to guy if you needed your stolen laptop or computer unlocked. Then it had all gone wrong for his clients. Stolen devices had been traced by the police; key boys in the Tulse Hill Crew had been arrested, and the blame pinned on his ineptitude for not having deleted tracking software. Someone – an out-of-towner it transpired – had taken over his computer and sabotaged his handiwork. They’d used his computer to try to hack into Doctor How’s Spectrel via David Where’s. The Doctor had saved him from a certain beating, and possibly something worse, by using his Tsk Army Ultraknife to addle their brains. In the days immediately afterwards the remaining Crew members had stayed away from him, like dazed and scalded cats – but he wasn’t sure how long the effects would last.
    So much water under the bridge. He’d seen things the Crew wouldn’t even believe were possible. Kevin had left the estate a nerd, but felt like he was returning a battle-hardened warrior. He had new clothes, and a deeper feeling of confidence than he’d ever had. Still, as he

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