Free Doctor Who: Shada by Douglas Adams, Gareth Roberts, Douglas Roberts Page A

the Doctor again.
    ‘Oh, I can’t remember that,’ said the Professor airily.
    Romana took the Professor’s hand and gave him her warmest smile. He seemed such a nice old man. ‘Oh, Professor, please try.’
    The Professor squinted. ‘A… A…’ He paused. ‘No, it doesn’t begin with A.’
    ‘B?’ suggested the Doctor.
    ‘C?’ suggested Romana.
    The process was agonisingly slow. After all, Romana reflected, a Time Lord brain for all its marvels was still a brain at the end of the day, subject to eventual age and decay. The Doctor was nothing like as old as the Professor, as he had just had cause to remind her, and even he could be infuriatingly forgetful and erratic at times.
    The Professor continued to run through the alphabet as far as he remembered it, pausing between each letter to consider. ‘P, Q, R, X… X again, T, B, Y…’
    Suddenly he snapped to attention. ‘Y! Young!’
    ‘He’s called Young?’ exclaimed the Doctor.
    ‘Yes,’ nodded the Professor. ‘Young Christopher Parsons!’ The revelation seemed to shake the Professor and he stood upright and rigid, eyes screwed tight shut. ‘Born 1952, graduated 1975, honours degree in Physics, currently researching sigma particles.’ He sighed as if this had been a great effort, opened his eyes and beamed over at the Doctor and Romana. ‘There we are! I knew it was in there somewhere.’
    ‘Where would this Chris Parsons be now, Professor?’ urged the Doctor.
    ‘Er – the physics lab, I should imagine,’ said the Professor. ‘You can borrow a bike from the quad. Then you’ll have to take the first left out of the gates and then—’
    The Doctor interrupted him. ‘Yes yes, Professor, you took me there one afternoon, remember?’ He was already heading for the door. ‘We spent a very nice afternoon bashing some atoms about and then calling them names.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said the Professor, smiling. ‘Well, I suppose this calls for tea.’ He set off back into the kitchen.
    ‘I’ll be two minutes,’ the Doctor called after him.
    Then he turned to Romana, looked her right in the eye and whispered urgently, ‘If I’m not back in two hours, you and the Professor lock yourselves in the TARDIS with K-9. Send out an all-frequency alert direct to Gallifrey, and wait. Don’t come after me!’ He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and made for the door.
    ‘Wait!’ called Romana.
    The Doctor turned. ‘Yes, wait! Wait and don’t come after me!’
    ‘No, I meant wait as in “wait a second”,’ said Romana. She leaned in close to him. ‘Send a signal to Gallifrey? Is it really that important? That you’d ask for help from the Time Lords?’
    ‘I hope not,’ said the Doctor gravely, and then he was gone.

Chapter 16
     
    SKAGRA ADJUSTED THE collar of the shirt he had taken from the dead human. ‘My appearance?’
    ‘It is perfectly correct in every detail, my lord,’ the voice assured him. ‘I have cross-referenced your new vestments with local video signals. You will be able to pass for an ordinary human with no difficulty.’
    Skagra nodded. ‘Excellent.’
    ‘And may I say, my lord,’ added the voice, ‘your magnificence is barely dimmed by such dowdy garb.’
    Skagra found this flattery unnecessary and rather irksome. He had programmed his Ship to obey his orders unquestioningly. He had refined its personality matrix to worship and honour him, as this was obviously the most efficient relationship for getting things done in life. Unfortunately the Ship sometimes went too far, making irrelevant observations – how amazing you are, my lord or only you could be so wonderful, my lord . These observations were true enough, of course, but they were not strictly necessary. They were so obvious they were not worth vocalising.
    ‘I am going to retrieve the book,’ he said, picking up the carpet bag containing the sphere and turning to go. ‘I shall return immediately.’
    ‘Of course you will, my lord,’ said the