Chapter 5

As the team plus their unexpected guests filtered back into the office Simon folded his arms and scowled at the back of Jake's head.

"Great," he mumbled, "he wants to be a time traveller. Oh, the irony!"

He was expecting someone to respond but no one was listening. Why was no one listening? Didn't they realise he needed to rant about this highly important matter? "Robin?" he glanced around, "Rob?"

But Robin was too busy to hear, deep in conversation with Clara.

"No, no, no, the trick is not to use eggs that are too fresh. They don't hold air as well as the ones that have been hanging around for a little while."

"Ahhhhhh," Clara's face lit up as though all the questions she'd ever had in her life had been answered all in one go.

Simon stood in front of them, his hands on his hips.

"Rob," he said, "What are you doing?"

Robin frowned.

"I'm just giving Clara some tips about getting her soufflé to rise," he protested.

"Well don't!" Simon cried.

"Why am I not allowed soufflé tips?" Clara frowned, somewhat bewildered by the controversial nature of this matter.

"You're buying into this!" he accused Robin.

"Buying into what?" Robin cried.

"This!" Simon flapped dramatically, "this whole stupid… weird… ridiculous charade!"

"Charades?" the Doctor turned around, "I love charades!"

"Oh yeah?" Simon turned to him crossly, "then why don't you try acting out the Silence?"

"Excuse me?" Clara eyed Simon crossly, "cookery discussion in progress."

Simon scowled at her, thought about making another snidey remark but didn't like the look on her face. It wasn't dissimilar to the expression Kim adopts before using violence.

"Fine," he barked, "stick your soufflé mix up your arse."

"…Ma'am," Kim said as she entered the office, "I'm just saying that I think the Doctor is probably a better Time Lord than the Guv would be. He's got a big blue box for one thing."

"Gene's got a big something, but it isn't blue," Alex let the words slip out before she could stop herself.

"Ew, ma'am, I did not need to know that!" Kim cried, slamming her hands over her ears.

"At least mine's in me slacks and not under my bed," Gene barked as he passed by and Kim cringed.

"Sprung," she commented.

"What happened to that dalek in your office?" Robin asked her suddenly and Kim gulped.

"I don't know and I'm not going in to check!" she told him.

"It was probably looking for a kindred spirit," Gene snorted and Kim's angry glare turned in his direction.

"One more word and I'll be the one doing the exterminating," she hissed.

"If you don't want to attract homicidal megalomaniac robots them don't turn into one, Metal Mickey," Gene barked.

"Always with the robot jokes!" Kim cried, "I hope that Dalek is still in my office and I hope it finds its way directly into yours, exterminates your filing cabinet and threatens to do the same to your tackle!" she panted breathlessly, rant almost over, "It will save me a job at least!"

The Doctor studied Kim suspiciously. To her horror he began to circle her as he asked,

"So she's a cyborg hybrid?"

"I'm a what?" Kim cried.

"Enough metal in 'er, she might as well be," Gene said.

"Just because I've got a few piercings he thinks I'm turning into a robot," Kim hissed, "which is ironic since he's ten seconds away from needing a metal plate!"

The doctor ignored her balled-up fists as he mused to himself,

"There is, of course, a president for converting flesh to machine."

Kim stared at him, aghast.

"I'm sorry?" she blinked, unable to comprehend his action.

"The Daleks," the doctor continued, reaching for his sonic screwdriver and wafting it dangerously in Kim's direction. "They saw the benefits of using humans for their own satisfaction."

"The only sink plunger you'll find here is the one they use when the canteen woman with the big backside has been making sprout soup and tipping away the leftovers," she snapped. As the sonic loomed into view in front of her face she snatched it away from him. "Don't you point that thing at me!"

The Doctor snatched it back and straightened his bow tie.

"Subtract love, add anger," he muttered.

Kim glared at him.

"What now?"

"That's what a… wise woman once said," the Doctor mumbled quietly, "subtract love, add anger." He paused, "that's how you make a Dalek."

All at once every one of Kim's friends and colleagues took a noticeable step away from her.

"What the hell are you all doing?" she demanded, "I'm not a bloody dalek!"

"Not yet," the Doctor pointed out.

"You are a very angry person, Kim," Simon pointed out.

"Oh, siding with the doctor now, are you?!" Kim cried.

"It does explain an awful lot," Jake commented.

"Like why you're about to have fifty percent fewer eyes to see from?" Kim threatened.

"You see?" Simon couldn't resist pointing out.

Kim began to feel quite distressed.

"Just stop it!" she demanded, "the lot of you!"

A smug Gene folded his arms.

"Well well, Metal Mickey, he smirked, "it all makes sense now. The anger. The destructive nature. Inability to go up and down stairs…"

"That was only when I had a sprained ankle!" Kim cried.

"And all that metal," Gene sighed, tutted and shook his head. "We trusted you, Stringer, and all a;ong you wanted to exterminate us."

"It can however be arranged," Kim told him crossly but the Doctor interrupted before violence could break out.

"No," he said carefully, "I think we're safe."

Despite her anger towards the doctor for putting the idea in their heads in the first place Kim felt relieved by his interjection.

"Yes?" she prompted.

The doctor nodded.

"She's angry enough already. There's not much that a Dalek could do with this one."

Kim scowled.

"Hey!"

"Besides," the doctor continued, "even if they attempted a conversion I think you'd be OK."

Kim stared at him, waiting for a jibe about them being afraid she was going to snap their 'sink plunger' off but he seemed quite serious.

"What?" she frowned, "why?"

"You're immune."

Kim felt a strange shudder.

"What?"

But the Doctor had already lost interest in Kim and whether or not she was half-Dalek and was busy investigating a pot plant in the corner of the room.

"Look at this!" he cried, "Clara! Rory Two! I could use one of these for the Tardis. Brighten her up a little! Introduce some foliage!"

"No, wait, hang on," Kim began, attempting to find out more about her alleged immunity but it seemed she was too late. The doctor only had eyes for the pot plant.

"You know," Simon began, "it really does explain so much."

Kim glanced around.

"What does?" she asked.

"All your anger," said Simon, "the violence. The black eyes and broken limbs. Your inability to prepare a soufflé."

That did it. Kim's rage struck new heights, even for her.

"I have never," she bellowed, "attempted to cook a bloody soufflé in my life!"

"Only because you can't cook."

"That's rich coming from someone who's favourite recipe is 'step one: open the phone book. Step two: call for pizza'!"

The mention of pizza reminded Clara that it was lunchtime. In fact, allowing for time differences it was way past lunch as far as she was concerned. Her stomach growled as hunger pangs snuck up on her.

"Excuse me," she poked Marci on the shoulder and gave her a slightly awkward smile as she jumped, "Hi. I was just wondering where a couple of weary travellers might get something to eat while we wait to find out whether anyone's actually going to turn into a dalek or not." She paused as she watched Gene trying to kick the Doctor out of his precious plant pot. "Or while world war three breaks out… over a plant."

"No, were safe," the Doctor called out, "that doesn't happen until two thousand and twenty nine, when the BBC threaten to bring back Eldorado."

Clara wasn't sure that was something they needed to know. She turned back to Marci, rubbing her hands hopefully.

"So… anywhere?" she asked.

Clara's beautiful smile was making Marci turn weak at the knees as she replied apologetically,

"Well there's the canteen… but it's not exactly Michelin standard. Unless you count the tyre she uses to stand the crate of spouts on."

"Actually," Gene boomed as he finally succeeded in dislodging the Doctor from the plant pot, "that sounds like a bloody good idea. Get yer backsides down to the canteen."

"We're supposed to be getting rid of them, not treating them to a slap-up lunch!" Simon hissed.

"What'd wrong, Shoebury?" Gene raised an eyebrow, "you don't think they should try the local cuisine…?" Simon stared at him blankly, "the local… green… cuisine?"

As Gene's words sank in a smile spread across Simon's face and he nodded slowly.

"Of course, he said, "you're absolutely right. What better way to welcome the doctor than with a lovely big portion of the local speciality?"

"Hooray!" The Doctor said, oblivious to Simon's sarcasm, "let's experience the culinary delights of nineteen ninety eight!"

"This way please," Simon smirked, leading the way. He began to feel his spirits rising and his hopes racing away with him. If anything was going to shift the Doctor and his companion it was going to be the sight of the green mountain in the canteen. Just this once sprouts were going to save the day.