Standing tall on top of the work surface, the Doctor looked contemptuously down at the array of levelled weapons, one hand thrust deep into his coat pocket, the other balancing the unidentifiable futuristic gadget on his fingertips.
"Put that down!"
The owner of the thunderous voice brushed past Jasmine. He was a tall, heavy man in his forties, his razorblade widow's peak, dark brows, narrowed eyes, long nose and compressed mouth all combining to give the impression of a face which formed a determined, forward looking spearpoint. The Doctor watched disinterestedly as he stormed towards him.
"What do you think you're doing in here? This is a sterile area!"
"Oh, grow up. This is a null gravity field instigator. It's designed for knocking about in the roughest environments imaginable. My fingerprints aren't going to hurt it."
It was just for an instant, on hearing the device given a name, that the newcomer's eyes flickered down towards it, but the Doctor saw, and his face lit up with realisation.
"Oh!" He looked quickly about the lab, then back at the man who had now passed through the ring of guards and stood within touching distance. "Of course, I've been uncharacteristically dim. You're not making or repairing anything here, are you? You haven't even got as far as disassembling anything. You're just poking around trying to work out what it is." He tossed the fragile looking object up in the air and caught it a couple of times like a cricket ball. "What's the deal? Crashed flying saucer? Ancient alien city buried under the sands?"
The man scowled at him incredulously.
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
The Doctor's phlegmatic response brought a furious furrowing of brows and a booming response:
"I happen to be Max Strole! I am the administrator of this entire facility!"
"Pleased to meet you. This is my young friend Jasmine."
Jasmine started as, guided by the Doctor's gesture, all eyes in the room turned upon her. She gave them a weak smile and a little wave.
"And I," said the Doctor, "Am the Doctor."
"Doctor who?" asked Strole suspiciously.
"Don't start that. Now watch this."
Strole watched through intent, narrowed eyes as the Doctor jumped down from his perch and walked away, the guards parting to let him by. He was fiddling with the device, and talking constantly:
"Its power cells are dead, I'm afraid, but there should be enough static juice left in its circuits to do..." He turned. "... this!"
He threw it, high over everyone's heads, into the centre of the room. People gasped, expecting to see the precious object smashed to smithereens on the floor, then fell silent when, as if it had struck an invisible trampoline, it bounced to a halt and hung swaying three feet above the ground. A few seconds later, as if gravity had suddenly remembered its task, it sunk slowly down to settle on the floor. Strole stared avidly, like a hungry man shown a roast dinner.
"Well, Doctor." The smile of a crocodile. "I believe you've found yourself a job."
"You're very kind. At least I hope you are, because my expertise doesn't come cheap."
"No doubt." Strole gave him an appraising look. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to my office and we'll discuss your contract."
The Doctor accepted with a curt inclination of his head. Jasmine stood uncertainly and watched as the pair of them, heads close together in murmured discussion, exited the lab. The technicians either drifted back to work or clustered around the gadget on the floor, holding back from touching as if afraid it might bite. The guards trooped smartly out under the harshly barked orders of one whose uniform was slightly more decorated, a badge here and a stripe there, than the others'. He was a young man, not tall, suntanned with hard dark eyes, sharply formed, humourless features and a rigidly set jawline, but as his men disappeared from view a physical change seemed to come over him. The stiffness drained from his posture, his eyes warmed and softened and when he turned to Jasmine, white teeth flashing in a pleasant smile, his voice was mellow and relaxed.
"Jasmine, isn't it?" He indicated the door through which Strole and the Doctor had departed with a jerk of his head. "If I know the administrator they'll be into this for a while. He's quite the negotiator and I get the idea your friend isn't the type to roll over easily either. What would you say to a drink while we wait?"
"Put that down!"
The owner of the thunderous voice brushed past Jasmine. He was a tall, heavy man in his forties, his razorblade widow's peak, dark brows, narrowed eyes, long nose and compressed mouth all combining to give the impression of a face which formed a determined, forward looking spearpoint. The Doctor watched disinterestedly as he stormed towards him.
"What do you think you're doing in here? This is a sterile area!"
"Oh, grow up. This is a null gravity field instigator. It's designed for knocking about in the roughest environments imaginable. My fingerprints aren't going to hurt it."
It was just for an instant, on hearing the device given a name, that the newcomer's eyes flickered down towards it, but the Doctor saw, and his face lit up with realisation.
"Oh!" He looked quickly about the lab, then back at the man who had now passed through the ring of guards and stood within touching distance. "Of course, I've been uncharacteristically dim. You're not making or repairing anything here, are you? You haven't even got as far as disassembling anything. You're just poking around trying to work out what it is." He tossed the fragile looking object up in the air and caught it a couple of times like a cricket ball. "What's the deal? Crashed flying saucer? Ancient alien city buried under the sands?"
The man scowled at him incredulously.
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
The Doctor's phlegmatic response brought a furious furrowing of brows and a booming response:
"I happen to be Max Strole! I am the administrator of this entire facility!"
"Pleased to meet you. This is my young friend Jasmine."
Jasmine started as, guided by the Doctor's gesture, all eyes in the room turned upon her. She gave them a weak smile and a little wave.
"And I," said the Doctor, "Am the Doctor."
"Doctor who?" asked Strole suspiciously.
"Don't start that. Now watch this."
Strole watched through intent, narrowed eyes as the Doctor jumped down from his perch and walked away, the guards parting to let him by. He was fiddling with the device, and talking constantly:
"Its power cells are dead, I'm afraid, but there should be enough static juice left in its circuits to do..." He turned. "... this!"
He threw it, high over everyone's heads, into the centre of the room. People gasped, expecting to see the precious object smashed to smithereens on the floor, then fell silent when, as if it had struck an invisible trampoline, it bounced to a halt and hung swaying three feet above the ground. A few seconds later, as if gravity had suddenly remembered its task, it sunk slowly down to settle on the floor. Strole stared avidly, like a hungry man shown a roast dinner.
"Well, Doctor." The smile of a crocodile. "I believe you've found yourself a job."
"You're very kind. At least I hope you are, because my expertise doesn't come cheap."
"No doubt." Strole gave him an appraising look. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to my office and we'll discuss your contract."
The Doctor accepted with a curt inclination of his head. Jasmine stood uncertainly and watched as the pair of them, heads close together in murmured discussion, exited the lab. The technicians either drifted back to work or clustered around the gadget on the floor, holding back from touching as if afraid it might bite. The guards trooped smartly out under the harshly barked orders of one whose uniform was slightly more decorated, a badge here and a stripe there, than the others'. He was a young man, not tall, suntanned with hard dark eyes, sharply formed, humourless features and a rigidly set jawline, but as his men disappeared from view a physical change seemed to come over him. The stiffness drained from his posture, his eyes warmed and softened and when he turned to Jasmine, white teeth flashing in a pleasant smile, his voice was mellow and relaxed.
"Jasmine, isn't it?" He indicated the door through which Strole and the Doctor had departed with a jerk of his head. "If I know the administrator they'll be into this for a while. He's quite the negotiator and I get the idea your friend isn't the type to roll over easily either. What would you say to a drink while we wait?"