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Science Assassin: Chapter eleven

The seven remaining members of the science committee were seated in the dining room, having lunch. Sir Robert seemed extremely jumpy, jumping at every little noise and turning to look behind him. His hands were shaking, and his veins were bulging with nervousness. He had to keep wiping sweat off his brow.

"Relax Sir Robert," said Arthur Dales. "Now that the Doctor's gone, no one else will get hurt."

"I know, but I can't help feeling as if he isn't guilty, and that the assassin is still out there somewhere." Sir Robert was pale, and his food was untouched, his aluminium packet sitting on his plate unopened.

"But he was a liar and a fake," said Mr Prumble. "He pretended to be a scientist, as well as a detective. And that woman, Donna, she wasn't really an assistant. She had no idea how to even copy a map of the galaxy."

"I know, I know." Sir Robert sighed. "But, everything is so unordinary. So many things have been happening. Two deaths in one day."

"There won't be any more." Mr Mckenzie said. "Now that the Doctor is safely behind bars. We won't have any more trouble. And no more lies about motroids listening to our plans."

"Yes, that is a relief." Sir Robert seemed to relax a little. "All that he said about motroids listening, and reporting. It nearly gave me a heart..." he slumped forward, his head hitting his plate with a crash. Mckenzie jumped up. "What happened?"

Fred Colle felt the old man's pulse. "He's had a heart attack! Quick! Call an ambulance! Get Wanda!"

Long and Hew ran out of the room. Colle pulled back Robert's head and began compressing his chest.

"That's not how you do it!" Arthur Dales pushed Colle aside and began thumping Sir Robert hard on the back. "You do this to get his heart going again."

"No you don't!"

"Yes you do!"

The men began pushing and shoving each other, both trying to get to Sir Robert. They both stopped when a weak voice said, "Boys! Stop it! Get me my pills!" Sir Robert's eyes were half open, and his face was very pale. Almost as pale as a motroid, thought Arthur Dales.

"Where is it sir?" he asked.

"In...my...room." Sir Robert fell forward again. Dales ran out, and Colle stood there nervously, unsure of what to do. Prumble pushed him forward. "Don't just stand there! Check his pulse!"

Fred Colle felt the older man's wrist. He almost missed the slow, faint beat. "He's still alive!"

Just then, Arthur Dales ran back in. "His medicine...isn't...there," he panted. "There...was a little...medicine box...but no pills...for heart."

"Oh no!" Prumble groaned. "If only the ambulance comes in time."

Arthur Dales thought about something he had overheard the Doctor say. That the assassin killed his victims and mocked them about their inventions as well. Apricot had broken all his bones, and Roland had just been killed by his own invention, the microscopic hearing aid. What about Sir Roland? Had something been given to him to start an attack? Had the assassin then hidden his pills? His face was deathly pale. Was the assassin trying to make him pale like a motroid, the alien race he had discovered?

Dales pulled Sir Roland into a partial recovery position. He checked the pulse again. It was extremely faint, and was slowing, as if the man's heart was getting tired. He wondered how long he could hold on...

XXXXXXXXXXX

The Doctor smiled grimly as he was shoved into a small, damp cell with a leaky roof, after hours of interrogation and interviews. He sat down on the old, hard bench and watched as the guard slammed shut the barred gate. This wasn't the first time he'd been arrested. On many of his previous travels he'd been chained, locked up, even tortured. He'd get out of this, eventually. The only trouble was: his sonic screwdriver had been confiscated. He wouldn't be able to open the lock and get out.

The Doctor sighed and began to sort through his thoughts. He thought about what Wanda had written about him on her witness report. She seemed to have put all the blame on him. She had described him as a peculiar stranger who turned up out of nowhere, causing havoc and chaos wherever he went, and as someone not to be trusted. She had also mentioned how he was present at Apricot's death and Klyne's attempted murder, and how she had found him sorting through the leftover scraps. That, and the fact he had lied to the police, had been enough to land him in jail. And not just any jail, a specially designed cell for unknown alien life forms, barricaded with lasers.

The Doctor soon got bored. He stood up and wandered around the small room. His eyes began to ache from the constant beam of red laser in front of the door. He wondered which scientist would be picked on next by the motroids. He was sure now of their involvement in the recent events.

Two hours later, a guard came and shoved in a tray of Arthur Dales' food invention, but the Doctor wasn't hungry. An hour later it was taken away. The Doctor yawned. By the time night was beginning to fall, he had run out of escape plans, having extinguished all possible ideas. There was just too much security, and being an alien, his face would soon appear in all the newspapers. Even if he got out, he would soon be recognised.

The jail was now smothered in darkness, except for the bright laser beams. In the wall there was a tiny grill, no bigger than the Doctor's head. It was set high up, near the ceiling. From it came a low grating noise.

Puzzled, the Doctor walked over to it, trying to peer out. He jumped up, and glimpsed a tiny light. The light was moving, and the grating noise was getting louder.

"Hello?" called the Doctor.

There was no reply. Suddenly, the grate fell inside, sailing towards the floor. Lunging, the Doctor grabbed it before it hit the ground. He didn't want to attract the guards' attention, and there was definitely someone outside.

"Hello?" he called again, a little louder. "Is anyone there?"

"Sssshhhh!" hissed someone from outside. The Doctor turned over the grill in his hands, completely confused. He couldn't imagine who would be outside. It couldn't be Donna. She was also locked up, but in a different jail. Who was it? The Doctor examined the grill. There was a hole in each corner, where there had once been screws. They had been taken out.

Suddenly there was a soft buzzing noise. Smoke began to creep through the wall, as well as a thin, black line, starting from the grill hole. A laser! Someone was lasering a hole in the wall! The Doctor would be free! He could see a thin red light. The line spread along in an odd shape, but just before it rejoined the hole, it was pushed forward, flipping sideways and hitting the wall. It hung there, and the Doctor squinted up at a bright flashlight. He could just see a familiar face, and his mouth fell open. It was the last person he had expected to see. "Wanda?!"

More to come...

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