FOUR
They had walked, rather quickly for her, toward a road and simply followed it until they reached the nearest town. The sky was now completely chocolate, the black clouds floating above, the place lit admirably by several streetlamps.
"Right," he said firmly, walking off and stopping by a flat screen stood on a thin pole, standing straight up from the pavement. He leaned nearer and then pulled out his glasses, pushing them on tersely and reading the screen. He began pressing the screen impatiently as she caught him up and stood by his side, watching.
"Is this some kind of town map?" she asked, watching.
"And directory," he snapped, his long, elegant fingers flying over the surface. She waited.
"She'll be alright, Doctor. It's not like she's going anywhere," she added to herself.
"How happy would you be if someone rammed a needle into your arm and started siphoning off vital fluids?" he demanded. She grimaced.
"I see your point. How long before there's permanent damage?" she asked, worried.
"A day, maybe longer," he said, then stopped. "Oh-ho, got a town hall, have we?" he snapped accusingly. She leaned over and looked.
"How far is it?" she asked quickly.
"Walking distance."
"But it's the middle of the night now," she pointed out as he ripped off his glasses, folding them quickly and pushing them back into their inside pocket.
"Then they'd better be light sleepers," he said, turning to go. She followed and they hurried out down the street.
After three blocks he stopped, looking left and right. He paused, thinking.
"You've forgotten the map," she dared.
"I've got a lot on my mind," he snapped, annoyed. She took a deep breath, nodded, and looked around.
"Left," she said confidently, and he looked at her.
"Left?" he asked.
"Look, there are taller streetlamps that way, and more of them. That must mean a main road, or maybe even a collection of important buildings, like some kind of town square. Where else would you put a town hall?" she asked reasonably.
He looked at her and his mouth worked for a long moment, without sound. He closed it again and nodded, putting his hand to her upper arm and walking them to the left quickly.
They rounded a corner and stopped dead, finding a large open square of tall, stone buildings. The streetlamps lit everything with an eerie, slightly green glow. She swallowed.
"There," he said smartly, crossing the silent road and marching up to a set of heavy-looking wooden doors. She followed quickly, taking stock of the place.
"Well it certainly looks like a town hall," she said. She stood back one, looking up. "All the office lights are out," she said. She heard a familiar noise and looked over to find him pointing his screwdriver at the large keyholes on the doors. "Doctor!" she hissed, hurrying over. "We can't just break into a public services building! We're supposed to be coming here to pay the fine and get her released, not –"
"We can't wait until they open again in the morning," he said irritably. "The nights here last for sixteen hours!"
"Oh, er… well, hurry up then," she hissed, putting a hand on his back to steady herself as she turned and looked out at the street. "We're alright so far, there doesn't seem to be anyone about. Be quick."
"Done," he breathed, then snapped off the screwdriver. He grabbed the large door handle and turned it slightly, opening it stealthily.
The door moved open and she looked round, following him in cautiously. He waited for her to get inside, then closed it again quietly. She looked around the large lobby area, then spotted a wide, horseshoe-shaped desk. Her heels made a slight clack-clack noise on the highly polished floor as she started towards it.
Suddenly she felt her feet slipping and she found herself on her back, the breath pushed out of her.
"Careful," he hissed, then hurried toward her to help her up. There was a painfully long squeak and she heard a thump. She twisted round and found him in a heap on the floor, scrabbling to get to his feet. She bit her lip, trying not to smile. "They cleaned," he moaned, rubbing his knee as he got up slowly.
He walked closer to her carefully, putting his hands out and helping her up. She straightened and made sure her feet were firmly planted before letting go of him.
"Thanks," she whispered hoarsely. She looked past him to the desk. "They must have records, or a computer of some kind. The answers will be in there."
"Nice work," he winked, following her over to the desk carefully. She slipped but grabbed the edge, steadying herself. "You really should-"
She heard another wet-rubbery squeak and a thud, and turned to look at him. She couldn't help it; she laughed. He was lying on his back, his face screwed up in pain or shock, she couldn't tell. She giggled as she grabbed the desk in one hand and bent down to help him with the other.
He took her hand and pulled himself up, but suddenly his feet were scrabbling for purchase. She watched in amazement as he re-enacted any one of a dozen Scooby-Doo routines running on the spot. Then he crashed back down to the floor.
"Doctor!" she hissed, slapping her free hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from making too much noise.
"Just open the – the records," he moaned, opening his eyes and turning slowly to his hands and knees. She controlled her laughter and used the desk to keep her balance, finding a large, open chair and plonking herself in it firmly.
His hand appeared over the edge of the desk and she giggled again, trying to concentrate on finding something that looked vaguely like a computer. He pulled himself up and leaned heavily on the edge of the desk, hissing and moaning something unkind about trainers and polished Prendevarlan floors.
"Well?" he asked.
"There's no kind of interface or – oh, hang on," she said quickly, turning in the seat as a large display caught her eye. He pulled himself round the edge of the desk as she leaned over and then looked about for a keyboard. "Oh, touch screen," she tutted quickly, remembering the street map. She looked over the screen as it came to life, showing some kind of picture. She realised it was in fact a directory, fashioned in a tree-root pattern that grew out from the central hub of a brand or company name. She grinned and put her hand out, touching 'public services'.
"Ooh, you're quick," he said appreciatively, appearing and looking over her shoulder.
"I like to play on the internet," she said with a smile. "Although I'm more of a WAP phone person."
"Try there," he said, pointing at a file name. She touched lightly at the screen and a red box popped up.
"Not allowed," she said, tutting.
He pulled out the screwdriver and leaned over, passing it over the display slowly. She watched the blue light glow and took a moment to appreciate the sound it made.
He snapped it off and pocketed it. "Try it now," he breathed.
She touched at it and the box opened again, blue this time. She read the options.
"Public disturbances," he said, bending closer next to her ear. She swallowed and did as told.
After ten minutes of pressing buttons and trying everything, there was still no record of anything.
"You know," he said suddenly, looking thoughtful, and she looked at him.
"What?" she asked.
"Why would a local authority use illegal power-leechers anyway?" he said darkly. She looked at him, watching his eyebrows heave downwards in consternation.
"Because… they have an energy shortage in the capital and they're spending all their time finding new resources?" she hazarded.
"What?" he asked, surprised.
"It was on that last page. It said something about the energy deficit for -." She gasped suddenly. "Oh my god! They're nicking power from every tourist," she realised. "And no-one can find anything on it because they're the ones doing it! The government!" she hissed.
He looked at her for a long moment.
"Then we have to stop them and get the TARDIS free," he said firmly. She nodded, looking back at the screen. She pressed some more pictures and he watched, confused. "What are you doing now?"
"Looking for this map," she said, pointing at the box that popped up. "We have to find the main power room and pull the plug. Then the TARDIS, and all other tourist ships – more than a hundred, if you believe the advertising bumf on their visa page – will be free again."
He stared at her, then suddenly grinned.
"Oh, Martha Jones," he said in awe, grabbing her face and hauling her toward him, "you are a genius!" He kissed her forehead firmly and let her go, staring back down at the screen. "So where's this power room then?" he asked excitedly.
She stared straight ahead, getting her breath back.
"Martha?" he prompted, looking at her. "Martha Jones?"
"Yeah," she squeaked, shaking herself and cursing her weak voice. She cleared her throat quickly. "I think… here," she said confidently, as another box popped up. He read it quickly, then dashed past the back of her chair. "Doctor, the floor-"
She heard a squeal and thump, followed by a soft moaning.
"Yeah," he wheezed painfully, and she got up from the chair quickly, grasping the desk firmly to look over the top. She found him climbing laboriously to his hands and knees on the slick floor. "Thanks for that," he managed.
"Well don't just – er, kneel there," she chuckled. "Power room is four floors down, section 6H," she added.
"6H," he breathed, nodding. He got to his feet slowly, and she clutched as his elbow before he could slide again. "I'm getting too old for this," he breathed, shaking his head.
She laughed and they tread their way extremely slowly toward the lifts.