Chapter 19 -- Just FYI, Your Drummer's a Robot

"Well, according to the Tardis, this is where they're staying," the Doctor said.

"And how are we supposed to get in?" Kyra asked.

"Oh, we have a reservation," the Doctor replied. "How do you feel about your own suite?"

"The thought of a real bed almost makes me wanna cry," she replied.

"This from the girl who slept through that black hole," he said.

"Just 'cause I can sleep anywhere doesn't mean I wouldn't appreciate a real bed," she replied. "Also, how are we supposed get in to see 'em? Knock on the door? 'Hey, by the way, your drummer's a robot?'"

"Think it would work?"

"Hugely no."

"Well, then, we won't try the direct approach."

They walked inside, very casually, like they belonged there. One thing Kyra had learned, travelling with the Doctor, was that very few people paid any attention to people who walked like they belong there.

They managed to discern the floor the Beatles were on by listening to the conversations of some of the maids. Gossip was a big thing among housekeepers, no matter where you went, apparently.

They didn't even have to be human.

Kyra was the one who knocked.

Lennon opened the door. "Oh, no. Bit late for autographs, run along, there's a good girl."

Kyra tucked her hands into her pockets. "Right. I'll just run along and let you fight off the murderous robot all by yourself, all right?"

"Kyra, no need to get testy," the Doctor said.

Lennon blinked. "Oh. It's you." He looked around. "You seen that thing again?"

"Not since the concert," the Doctor said.

"Well, maybe since it's seen you it'll make itself scarce."

"They ain't yet," Kyra said dryly. "We've run into these things before." She jerked a thumb at the Doctor. "Him more'n me. So maybe havin' some expert help would do you some good."

"Yeah? You an expert?"

"More of an expert than you are, mate," she replied.

Lennon sighed. "Look, I appreciate the thought, but....what are you, twelve?"

"Seventeen," she corrected. "I'm seventeen."

"Really? You're awfully small."

"Yeah. 'Cause I'd never noticed."

"Small or not, we can help you," the Doctor said. "We've encounted those things before." He patted Kyra's shoulder. "She's even managed to defeat a few!"

"Saved his life," she added.

Lennon sighed. "All right, then," he said. "What've I got to lose?" He opened the door and gestured.

"Trusting soul," Kyra muttered.

"No, I don't trust you," he said. "'Course I don't trust you. That'd be stupid. But I can at least listen to what you've got to say."

The Doctor leaned on the desk and gestured for Kyra to begin. "Go on, then."

She stared at him. "Me? Why me?"

"Well, you're the Beatlemaniac."

"What?" Lennon said.

"Forget that," Kyra said. "Ignore that." She took a deep breath and raked her hand back through her hair. Then she turned and stared at the Doctor. "So how is this not supposed to sound like a bad sci-fi movie?"

"It's not going to sound any better no matter how long you wait," the Doctor chided.

Kyra huffed out a breath. "All right then," she said. "These robots -- they're called Daleks -- have you just seen one? Followin' you, I mean?"

"Well, yeah, that we noticed," he said. "Really freaked Ringo out. He's been actin' a bit off, since then."

"Yeah," Kyra said. "I just bet he has."

"What difference does it make?" Lennon asked. "I mean, if it's the same one or a different one?"

"Couldn't tell if it was a different one," Kyra said. "What I've seen, they all look alike. But it might've given us a hint to how many of 'em there are. We ain't got a clue."

"These things as dangerous as you think they are?" Lennon asked, looking nervous. "I mean, Ringo's paranoid as it is, won't go anywhere after the concerts, not even durin' the day."

Kyra and the Doctor exchanged a glance.

"Does that mean somethin'?" Lennon asked.

"They're not certain," the Doctor said. "If they're uncertain of their control...then they're uncertain of whether or not they'd be able to control other humans."

"Control?" Lennon demanded. "Control over what?"

"Ringo," she said. "The Ringo 'bot."

"Whoa, now you're tellin' me our drummer is some kind of robot?" Lennon demanded, rising to his feet. "All right, I've known Ringo for years, and I can say that's bullshit."

"He hasn't been," Kyra said. "Not the whole time. And the real Ringo's still alive."

"Oh, come on!" Lennon snapped. "You don't actually expect people to buy this, do you? Is this what you do with your free time?"

"Yeah, this is our idea of a good time," Kyra said. "It's what we do, but only to famous people."

"Kyra," the Doctor chided.

"I told you he wasn't gonna buy it," Kyra said. "Would you buy this?"

"Well, yes."

Kyra rolled her eyes. "Aye, stupid question. Can you honestly expect anybody else to buy it?"

"Well, I suppose not," he said, and stood. "Very well. It's been nice speaking to you. Have a lovely day."

He turned to walk out. Kyra rose to her feet to follow.

"Hey! Hey, mate, wait," he said, stood, and hesitated. "Who are you?"

"You can call me the Doctor," he replied, turning back to face Lennon.

"Yeah? What about her?"

"Her can speak for herself," Kyra said, her tone irritated. "My name's Kyra."

Lennon gestured towards his face. "You sound like you're from Ireland, but what's with...the stuff in your face? I mean, I thought it was all those African tribes that did stuff like that."

Kyra arched an eyebrow. "Wait a few years," she said. "I bet all the kids'll be doin' it."

They paused outside the hotel room door.

"Next step?" the Doctor asked.

"Next step, I think, would be findin' out how we get the real Ringo away from Short, Armed, and Scary," she said, leading the way to the stairs. "Let's blow this joint."