Ten Little Aliens: 50th Anniversary Edition Read Online Free PDF Page A

was always making out she could look after herself all right. No need for Ben to look out for her, oh no. But he knew better. Well, it stood to reason. With the navy he’d seen so much, been so many places, learned how to handle himself. All she’d known were Beaujolais Nouveau parties, poncy nightclubs and finishing school in South Ken until they’d fallen in with the Doctor on his batty travels through time and space.
    ‘You’d be a bulldog.’ Polly laughed. ‘Or a terrier. Tenacious little Ben, always pulling life’s trouser leg!’
    ‘All right, all right,’ Ben said a little touchily. He was very aware he was hardly a giant among men, especially since Polly was taller than him by a good inch. ‘What about the Doctor, then?’
    ‘Cat person or dog person?’ Polly enquired with a wicked smile. ‘He’s more of an old buzzard, don’t you think?’
    Her smile dropped suddenly as a door shut loudly behind her.
    ‘This “old buzzard” has excellent hearing, my girl, quite excellent, yes,’ the Doctor fussed as he walked back into the console room. The old boy was a real mystery, but it seemed his life was just one long adventure that he was willing to share with his mates. For Ben, that was all you needed to know.
    This gleaming monochrome complex was his home. And it suited him. Quite a black-and-white character, the Doctor, Ben decided. Not just his appearance – swept-back silver hair, black frock coat, white wing-collared shirt and grey trousers – but in the way he saw things. A sort of suffer-no-fools and take-no-prisoners outlook that put Ben in mind of an old granddad of his, one who’d maybe lost a few marbles in the trenches.
    The Doctor began flicking switches on the pentagonal console. His hands waved uncertainly over various sections before his bony fingers stabbed and twisted at the controls with sudden precision.
    The column in the middle of the console’s set-up started to slow. The Doctor steepled his fingers and smiled benignly at his two companions, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘We should soon be landing.’
    ‘Where?’ asked Ben.
    The old man’s faced clouded in confusion. He turned back to his controls.
    Ben turned to Polly. ‘Never mind the buzzard, Duchess,’ he whispered. ‘Reckon he’s got the memory of a goldfish.’
    *
    II
    Shade felt the bridge shudder as the retros kicked in. The vibration made him feel sick, and he put this down to the sleep drug. The ‘crew’s snooze’, Joiks had called it. Funny.
    He couldn’t believe they still used needles to inject the serum, or that they laid them on these slabs afterwards like corpses in a morgue. Then again, he couldn’t believe an ancient pile of scrap like this lousy space frigate was still being flown by anyone, let alone the military. No quarters – just a bridge and a cargo hold. A ship small enough to blip past any radar, and to drive anyone trapped on board mad in under a week. Especially with Joiks and his one-liners there for the ride.
    However they got the drug, Shade thanked God for it. The month had passed in the time it took to close his eyes. That made the worst hangover he’d had in his life a little more bearable.
    Now ten of them were strapped into the couches in a punchy silence, staring at the central viewscreen.
    Marshal Haunt was in the middle. She craned her head like the rest of them at the dull grey rock that filled the viewscreen. Her skin shared its drab pallor. Both her hands were twitching, like they were still trying to wake up.
    ‘It’s been a while,’ she muttered dryly as she faced the group. ‘Everyone still remember who they are?’
    Shade’s head lolled back, he closed his eyes.
    ‘Everyone still remember who
I
am?’ Haunt’s voice hardened a little.
    ‘Think so, Marshal Haunt,’ Joiks said. ‘Didn’t you kick Shade’s ass back in Theatre One?’
    Shade smiled through gritted teeth at the ensuing round of applause and cheers. All the shock, the violence of the event had been