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Authors: Mark Speed
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got off at his regular stop he couldn’t help feeling a little naked and vulnerable without the power-assisted combat suit and the Con-Bat he’d used to help Doctor How and Trinity defeat giant killer beetles the day before.
He looked around the neighbourhood he’d grown up in and saw what a small world it was he’d inhabited. Boys a decade younger than him could be stabbed for crossing the road from one postcode to another, yet they lived in an almost infinitely large universe. Unknown numbers of aliens – out-of-towners – were living amongst them in ordinary dwellings. He looked around again.
When they’d visited the Plenscas he’d thought the Rindan consul and her husband had lived in a nice flat in a good area and had assumed that the whole out-of-town community would live as comfortably. Indeed, he assumed that the Plenscas, being religious and pious, would be living a relatively humble life compared to some of the others. Most of the rest, he’d assumed, would be living in the finest areas of London – Mayfair, Westminster and Kensington. That morning’s visit to the… he struggled to find a name for it… the slime – there was no other word for it, for them , he corrected himself – in Tooting had put paid to that. There was a being which was perfectly happy to live in a dank and dark basement and do nothing but exist in solitude. And the Cleaners had proved that out-of-towners could take on the appearance of anyone.
Then he wondered about all the Eastern Europeans who’d flocked to London – how many of those he took to be Eastern European were not actually from Eastern Europe, but from out of town? How long had they been here? As long as the Doctor? How many of the people in the Establishment weren’t human? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know whether Doctor How was all he appeared to be either. The two cousins he’d met looked very human, but then the Time Keepers were masters of technology beyond any human’s comprehension. Were the Time Lords hideously ugly creatures underneath a biomask veneer? Tulse Hill had a considerable variety of housing, both social and private, and the proportion of immigrants was very high – how many of the dwellings he’d seen on his short bus journey were occupied by non-humans?
More importantly: what did they want ? What brought them to Earth, and to London specifically? It didn’t seem that the Doctor had business elsewhere on the planet.
But here he was, back in the small corner of London he’d grown up in. With his mixed-race heritage and out-of-place blue eyes, he’d always felt alien himself.
He walked into the open space in front of the huddle of low-rise apartment blocks and felt familiar eyes on him. He was pretty sure he’d have been spotted getting on the bus in Brixton. That was the way in this corner of the metropolis. Sure enough, he saw a window swing open on the third floor of one of the buildings. Jabba the Hutt leaned out and took a long look at him. Jabba had got his nickname from the apparent stream of Pizza Hut deliveries to his flat. He’d since changed to Domino’s but the name had stuck. A week ago Kevin wouldn’t have stared back, but now he did. If you have a dog spooked, you let it know you’re still not afraid. His heartbeat quickened with the thrill and fear of defying the thug’s authority.
He smiled and waved, then turned away to put his key fob against the security reader and tapped in the code. The door to the stairwell opened and he trotted up the stairs. He unlocked the front door and went in to the familiar smell of home.
“Kevin?” called his mother from the kitchen.
“Hi Mum,” he said as she stormed into the living room. He braced himself for a barrage for having been out of touch.
“Thanks for the voicemail. That was very considerate of you.”
“Uh?” He was lost – he’d not even texted his mother, let alone left her any voicemails. Then he remembered that the Doctor had said he’d
He looked around the neighbourhood he’d grown up in and saw what a small world it was he’d inhabited. Boys a decade younger than him could be stabbed for crossing the road from one postcode to another, yet they lived in an almost infinitely large universe. Unknown numbers of aliens – out-of-towners – were living amongst them in ordinary dwellings. He looked around again.
When they’d visited the Plenscas he’d thought the Rindan consul and her husband had lived in a nice flat in a good area and had assumed that the whole out-of-town community would live as comfortably. Indeed, he assumed that the Plenscas, being religious and pious, would be living a relatively humble life compared to some of the others. Most of the rest, he’d assumed, would be living in the finest areas of London – Mayfair, Westminster and Kensington. That morning’s visit to the… he struggled to find a name for it… the slime – there was no other word for it, for them , he corrected himself – in Tooting had put paid to that. There was a being which was perfectly happy to live in a dank and dark basement and do nothing but exist in solitude. And the Cleaners had proved that out-of-towners could take on the appearance of anyone.
Then he wondered about all the Eastern Europeans who’d flocked to London – how many of those he took to be Eastern European were not actually from Eastern Europe, but from out of town? How long had they been here? As long as the Doctor? How many of the people in the Establishment weren’t human? Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know whether Doctor How was all he appeared to be either. The two cousins he’d met looked very human, but then the Time Keepers were masters of technology beyond any human’s comprehension. Were the Time Lords hideously ugly creatures underneath a biomask veneer? Tulse Hill had a considerable variety of housing, both social and private, and the proportion of immigrants was very high – how many of the dwellings he’d seen on his short bus journey were occupied by non-humans?
More importantly: what did they want ? What brought them to Earth, and to London specifically? It didn’t seem that the Doctor had business elsewhere on the planet.
But here he was, back in the small corner of London he’d grown up in. With his mixed-race heritage and out-of-place blue eyes, he’d always felt alien himself.
He walked into the open space in front of the huddle of low-rise apartment blocks and felt familiar eyes on him. He was pretty sure he’d have been spotted getting on the bus in Brixton. That was the way in this corner of the metropolis. Sure enough, he saw a window swing open on the third floor of one of the buildings. Jabba the Hutt leaned out and took a long look at him. Jabba had got his nickname from the apparent stream of Pizza Hut deliveries to his flat. He’d since changed to Domino’s but the name had stuck. A week ago Kevin wouldn’t have stared back, but now he did. If you have a dog spooked, you let it know you’re still not afraid. His heartbeat quickened with the thrill and fear of defying the thug’s authority.
He smiled and waved, then turned away to put his key fob against the security reader and tapped in the code. The door to the stairwell opened and he trotted up the stairs. He unlocked the front door and went in to the familiar smell of home.
“Kevin?” called his mother from the kitchen.
“Hi Mum,” he said as she stormed into the living room. He braced himself for a barrage for having been out of touch.
“Thanks for the voicemail. That was very considerate of you.”
“Uh?” He was lost – he’d not even texted his mother, let alone left her any voicemails. Then he remembered that the Doctor had said he’d
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