Doctor Trek - The Green Green Glow Of Death (Parts 1, 2 And 3) (1) DOCTOR TREK THE NEW ADVENTURES THE GREEN GREEN GLOW OF DEATH BY IAN KIDD PROLOGUE Earth. England. July 1989. On the outskirts of Wickersley, a man named Simon Meadows was driving his car in the direction of the Comprehensive School. Meadows glanced at the fourteen year old boy in the passenger seat beside him. This was going to be hard on him, he knew. But then, it was going to be hard on everyone, wasn't it? Meadows had been in charge of the children's home in London for nearly twenty years, and now it was closing down. It was even worse for the boy, of course. Abandoned by unknown parents at just a few days old, the Home had been the boy's whole life. Now he had to start again, in a whole new home, and in a whole new school. "We'll be there soon," Meadows assured. "Take as long as you like. I haven't finished reading this 'Lost In Space' article yet," said Sammy Davis Jnr. Wickersley Comprehensive School. Mr Meadows and Sammy emerged from the Headmaster's office. "Just a few forms to sign and you'll be officially enrolled," Meadows noted. "Went rather well, I thought, didn't it?" Sammy grunted non-committedly. Suddenly, green slime leapt from the ceiling and entered Sammy via his nose. Sammy collapsed. "Sammy!" Meadows helped him up. Sammy stood, confused. What had just happened? "Are you alright?" Meadows demanded. Sammy patted himself. Everything seemed to be in the right place. "I - I think so," he said, still a little shaky. "Are you sure?" Meadows asked, concerned. "You look a little green to me." CHAPTER ONE The midday suns rose high in the sky above the pleasure planet of Prophalactic V, blistering to anyone stupid enough to be out sunbathing on one of the planet's admittedly stunning beaches at the height of summer. Five people stupid enough to be doing just that were the eccentric space-time traveller Captain James T. Who and his companions, the shape-shifting Whifferdil, Frobisher, the teenage Sammy Davis Jnr. and his girlfriend Cody Willis, and ex-"Doctor Who" companion Ace. Who lay back relaxing on the sands, Ace doing likewise by his side, and Frobisher, currently in the form of a beach umbrella, was shielding them from the worst of the sun's rays. Sammy and Cody lay a little further down the beach, necking. Who, somewhat incongruously still fully dressed in his usual bulky attire - as opposed to the rather more appropriate beach clothes adopted by his companions - was wafting himself with his over-long, multicoloured scarf, eyes closed. "You know," Ace propped herself up on one elbow, and nodded toward Sammy and Cody. "I'm getting a little worried about them, Professor." Who sighed. "Ace, if I've told you once I've told you a thousand times - I'm not 'the Professor', I'm 'the Captain'." "Yeah right, whatever, sure thing Professor," Ace replied, instantly disregarding him. "But my point still stands." Who opened a bleary eye reluctantly, and gazed down the beach toward his teenage friends. "They're kissing. And?" "Yes, they're kissing," Ace agreed. "Very passionately. Very, VERY passionately," she added pointedly. "So? They're in love. Leave them be," Who closed his one opened eye and relaxed again. "They're only sixteen, Professor," Ace noted. "Oh Ace, REALLY!" Who sat up, disturbed and irritated. "They're relaxing and enjoying themselves. Like I'm TRYING TO," he glared. "I think we're all entitled to a spot of R 'n' R after our terrible battle with the giant, six-legged Sontaran-Spider mutants of Androgynous VII, don't you?" Who pouted. "Besides, I'm not their father." "No, but you are the authority figure here," Ace pointed out. "Yeah, right," Frobisher snickered disparagingly. Who glared at the umbrella. "What would you have me do?" he demanded of Ace. "Ban them from seeing each other?" "Of course not, Professor," Ace looked at him sourly. "That wouldn't work, anyway. Never did with me," she acknowledged. "Like you said, they're in love. And they're going to want to... experiment. So maybe you should have a talk to them." "About what?" Who demanded. "You know..." Ace said coyly. "Taking... precautions." Who frowned. "Never eat pasta in zero gravity environments, that the sort of thing you mean?" "No, Professor," Ace rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about... you know... CONTRACEPTIVES." "Contra what?" Who yelped, looking at her aghast. "Safe sex, Captain," Ace clarified. "Safe..." Who couldn't even finish the sentence. He put his head in his hands. "Oh, my. OH MY!" "Someone has to do it, Professor. And soon," Ace recommended. "Unless you want a screaming baby aboard the TARDISPRISE." "A screaming..." Who looked at her, appalled. "Oh, my giddy aunt." "I don't know," Frobisher commented sorrowfully. "Hanky-panky in the TARDISPRISE. JNT would never have approved." "Well, Captain?" Ace pressed. Thankfully, at that moment Who's anguish was interrupted by a bleeping noise coming from within his voluminous pockets. Who reached in gratefully and pulled out an odd contraption that bleeped and flashed lights at him. "It's a message!" Who cried gratefully. "From Admiral Borusa. He needs our help." He leapt to his feet. "We should return to the TARDISPRISE immediately!" "Saved by the bell, eh?" Ace commented. "I don't know what you mean," Who beamed. "Admiral Borusa?" Frobisher sounded confused. "Didn't he get killed off? You know, during that rather OTT Jip/Exterminator business?" "Well, you know the Imperial Government's attitude to things like that," Who replied glumly. "They did the same thing with Jip and Pane. I complained to the CIA - " "The CIA?" Ace questioned. "Continuity Inaccuracies Agency," Who clarified. "I told them that this sort of thing damages narrative cohesion and undermines our credibility, but would they listen to me? Nooo..." "Come on, then," Ace climbed to her feet. "Sammy! Cody!" she waved. "We've got to go!" "Least it should mean a bit of action at last," Frobisher acknowledged. "A bit of action?" Who frowned. "I'd have thought you'd seen enough action for a while, Frobisher, after our terrifying altercation in the civil war on Paedophilia VIII. Caught in the battle between the Tit-Face People and the Clan of the Penis-Heads." He shook his head. "I'll never forget it." Ace grinned suddenly. "Mm.. me neither," she beamed. Sammy and Cody joined them. "What's up?" Sammy inquired. "Well, you for a start by the looks of your trunks," Frobisher commented. Sammy looked embarrassed and quickly hid behind Cody. "Yes, thank you, Frobisher," Who cleared his throat. "Let's see what old Borusa wants, shall we? To the teleport cubicle!" * * * * Earth. England. Sheffield. Meadowhall Shopping Centre. March 31, 2003. Monday. Security guard Norman Bates was in a bad mood. It wasn't just his name today, however. Yes, it was about midday and already he'd heard about 15,000 'Psycho' jokes, but that was par for the course, really. He'd had them since junior school. He'd blame his mother for giving him the moniker, but if he started down that road, he probably would end up with her mummified corpse in the basement. No, today he had extra reason to be fed up. It wasn't just the fact that his wife, Leigh, currently resembled Jabba The Hutt, either. He could hardly get upset when she was carrying his first child, could he? True, she'd looked like that even BEFORE the pregnancy, but still. No, what was getting his goat today was his supervisor, Alfred. Alfred was a bit of a tosser at the best of times, the kind of sad, petty little man who regards his badge almost as an extension of his penis, but today he was being particularly pedantic. Forcing Norman to trudge around the basement just because a sensor had gone off. It was probably just a rat. Besides, what the hell was there to steal down here, anyway? Zip, that's what. But NO, Alfred had insisted, so here Norman was, trudging around the dark basement with his torch. He didn't know why they didn't DO something with the lower level instead of just leaving it empty, but that was bureaucracy for you. A noise made Norman turn. "Hello?" he called. There was no reply. Norman carried on walking, then he heard the noise. A soft, slow, sliding, SLITHERING noise. It sure as hell didn't sound like a rat. "Hello?" he called again. "Who's there?" He pressed forward. The noise appeared to be coming from an old storage room. "Whoever you are, I can assure you this isn't at all amusing!" Norman took out his gun, and kicked in the storage room door. Norman stepped inside. There was no one there. Norman checked behind the door quickly. No one. Norman sighed with relief, putting his gun away, and chastising himself. Too many scary movies, he decided. He turned to leave. Then he heard the slithering noise again. Coming... from ABOVE. Norman looked up and screamed as a cartload of green slime descended on his head. A few minutes later, Norman emerged from the store room. "Basement checked," he reported in on his walkie-talkie. "Nothing to report." Norman headed for the lift. As he entered, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a pair of sunglasses and placing them on his face, neatly concealing the pair of bright, glowing green eyes beneath. CHAPTER TWO Norman's cousin, Paul Bates, was also a former member of the infamous organisation known as the Wickersley Sci-Fi Club. At the present time, however, Paul was not thinking of his time hamming it up in the notorious Club's notorious "Doctor Trek" movies, nor was he thinking of his mildly estranged cousin. Paul was late. Paul hurried out from his home and ran to the waiting car. "Come ON!" His cameraman, a chubby Scotsman named Klaus Kinky, urged. "He's waiting. He's gonna be PISSED." "I know, I know," Paul climbed in the passenger seat and shut the door. The car sped off. "I hope you're prepared," Klaus declared. "The bosses really want us to get this guy." "Don't worry, I will," Paul muttered between clenched teeth. Five years ago, Paul had been a law student in Liverpool, only for him to decide, almost at the last moment and to the immense frustration of his parents, to chuck it all in and have a go at stand-up comedy instead. The first few years had been hard going too, but a couple of gigs on Jimmy Tarbuck stage show and "The Jonathan Ross Show" had landed Paul his current job, the one that was really going to make or break him. "Lifestyles Of The Rich and Famous" it was called, "an exclusive look at the lives of the stars", with Paul as the host. Or at least, that was what the people Paul was interviewing thought. In actual fact, it was a Channel 5 spoof show, which was REALLY going to be called "Lifestyles of the Past-It and Has-Been". It hadn't aired yet, obviously - Channel 5 wanted as many shows - as many victims - as it could get before the "stars" being interviewed realised they WERE victims. When they did, Paul knew he was going to be the most hated man in British showbiz. "You're alright, then?" Klaus demanded. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Paul replied. "I just thought the article might have upset you a bit, that's all." "Don't be daft - " Paul stopped. "What article?" "Oh. Nothing. Forget I spoke," Klaus swore inwardly. "What article?!?!?" Paul demanded roughly. Klaus winced. "'The Sun'. They - er - got hold of some... personal info on you." "What kind of personal info?" Paul raged. "You know... your... 'emotional problems'." "The bastards!" Paul raged. "Where is it? Where is it?" Klaus sighed. "In the back." Paul retrieved 'The Sun' from the back seat. "What page?" he demanded, tearing through it. "36, I think." Paul turned to page 36. "MAD COMIC'S MAD PAST" screamed the headline, alongside a somewhat out of context shot of Paul rolling his eyes up in his head, taken, although Paul didn't realise it at that moment, from the "Doctor Trek" production "The Psychic School". "Mad-cap comic - and host of new Channel 5 show "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" is hiding a tortured past, 'Sun' sources revealed yesterday. The often unfunny and tasteless and frankly smug and even rather annoying so-called "comedian" suffered a nervous breakdown while at Wickersley Comprehensive School in 1989. Bates, a teenager at the time, recovered relatively quickly, but nonetheless suffered after-effects from the emotional collapse, the most prominent being an odd speech defect which required him to start every sentence with "Cor Blimey" and lasted for several years, and apparently still returns in times of stress". "I don't believe this!" Paul raged. "Cor Blimey, they're bastards!" In the editing suite of the Video Production Department at Meadowhall Shopping Centre, an old friend of Paul's, former Sci-Fi Club member and "Doctor Trek" star Joe Binks was taking advantage of his boss' absence to do some editing of his own, transferring one of those old "Dr. Trek" movies from video onto state-of-the-art (and terribly shiny) DVD. "Cor Blimey!" exclaimed the somewhat younger Paul on the video. Joe sat back, watching, and chuckled. This was a good one, he thought. Maybe not as good as "Psychic School", he reflected, but still pretty top-notch stuff. Joe smiled. He loved "Doctor Trek", and still missed it, too, even over ten years after production on their last one, "Revenge of the Great Idiot". He'd give just about anything to be Captain Who again. Then again, much though he loved and missed "DT", he did wish that his Australia stranded friend and former castmate Ian Kidd would stop sending him those embarrassingly unfunny and appallingly written DT 'novellas', which he then had to feign enthusiasm for via email. He was just grateful Ian couldn't see his face when he was saying how funny he thought they were - sheesh! "And what do you think you're doing?" A voice made Joe jerk violently out of his reverie. He swivelled in his seat, but it was not his boss, it was the Head of Security. "Oh, hello Alfie." "Mr Hitchcock to you, sonny," Hitchcock, a short, tubby bald man drawled. "I asked you a question - what do you think you're doing?" "Oh, nothing, nothing," Joe lounged back, unsuccessfully trying to cover up the video monitor on which, just at that moment, was his own face. "EXACTLY!" his seventeen year old self declared to camera. Joe cringed inwardly. "You wouldn't be using Meadowhall equipment and your job time to be doing your own juvenile videos, would you?" Joe bristled at the word 'juvenile', but swallowed his indignation. "Course not. Wouldn't dream of it, old chap." "I've heard about you, Binksy," Hitchcock leaned in close. Joe recoiled at the man's breath. "Really?" he inquired brightly. "What have you heard? That I USE breath fresheners?" "You think you're funny?" Hitchcock drawled. "Funny boy, is that it? I've heard about you. Spending all your time at your younger brother's rock gigs, trying to grab some reflected glory, dating a schoolgirl, and wasting your life obsessing over some childish, hideously amateurish videos you and your equally pathetic friends made when you were spotty teenagers. You're pathetic, Binks. PATHETIC." "Wouldn't be jealous, by any chance, would you?" Joe inquired brightly. "I mean, I've seen photos of your wife. Phew..." "Turn it off, Binks," Alfred growled. "Turn it off, or I'll have you for using Meadowhall equipment and electricity for your own sad hobbies." Joe thought for a moment, seriously contemplating shoving the fork he'd eaten his lunch with right up the guy's rectal passage, then thought better of it and switched off the video-DVD transfer. "Happy?" Hitchcock drew back. "I'm watching you, Binks," he drawled menacingly. "I'm WATCHING you." He walked away. Joe watched him go, and shook his head. "Pervert," he commented. Klaus drew the car up outside a small terraced house on Tilsley Road. Paul climbed out, looking around. "Hey, I think Joe lives somewhere around here," he said. "Fascinating," Klaus joined him on the road, hefting his video camera onto his shoulder. "You ready?" "As I'll ever be," Paul nodded. "I wonder if this guy's as big a sad twat as everyone says." "We'll soon find out," Klaus gave him a nod, indicating he was filming. Paul came to life, instantly assuming his OTT on-camera persona. "I'm Paul Bates," he began, walking up the driveway to the house, "and welcome to "Lifestyles of the Past-It and Has-Been. Today's special guest star is... JASON DONOVAN! I think he's behind this door!" Paul indicated, and rang the bell. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a rather emaciated, sad- looking figure. "Hello, Jase!" Paul beamed. "How ya doin', me old mucker! How's the singing career going? I must say, you're lookin' GOOD!" Security guard Peter Tinker and his comrade, Pan Bell, were doing a sweep of the railway line just outside Meadowhall when they spotted what looked like a body. "Oh man!" Peter swore in his thick Yorkshire accent, running over. The body - a man - was lying face down, dressed in heavy clothing, with a ridiculously over-long and multi-coloured scarf around his neck. He didn't appear to be breathing. "Here we go..." Peter reached out to check the man's pulse. Instantly, the man sprang to his feet, clutching an umbrella and looking around wildly. "And I tell you, Mr Wok, that is most definitely NOT the proper use of a toasting fork! And - oh..." Who trailed off, taking in his surroundings. "I say, this isn't the TARDISPRISE." "Would you mind explaining what you're doing here, sir?" Peter questioned. "Well, we were just looking at the trains, weren't we, Frobisher? We're nerds, you see, and... Frobisher?" Who shook the umbrella. There was no response. "Frobisher, what's the matter?" The umbrella, perhaps not surprisingly, said nothing. "Sir?" Peter began, becoming convinced he was dealing with a lunatic. Who stared at the umbrella, confused. "Sometimes an umbrella is just an umbrella..." he mused. He turned to Peter and beamed suddenly. "I'm awfully sorry, I'm being rude, aren't I? I do apologise. Allow me to introduce myself - I am Captain James T. Who, and these are my..." he became aware that he was very much alone, "...hand movements!" He waved his hands around excitedly. "Impressive, aren't they?" "What are you doing here?" Peter demanded. "Do you know, I'm not quite sure," Who admitted, frowning. "The last thing I recall... Ace was talking to me about... terrible things, but then Borusa called and we all had to go back to the TARDISPRISE, thank goodness." Peter raised an eyebrow. "The TARDISPRISE?" he inquired. "That's the one," Who confirmed. "But after that... it's all a bit blurry, I'm afraid." "Peter! PETER!" Pan called from further away. "What is it?" "It's another one... another body!" "That one alive too?" Peter called. Pan turned the body over. "Not by the looks of it... jeez! Oh, Peter..." "What?" "It's Batesy... he's dead and it's Batesy!" "Hell," Peter took Who by the arm and radioed in. "I'm bringing in Doctor Who for questioning." "Doctor Who?" the female operator queried, bewildered. "That's right," Peter confirmed gruffly. "Doctor Who." Who beamed at him bemusedly. CHAPTER THREE Pain. Confusion. Terror. "It's a TRAP!" Cody opened her eyes, and everything was alright again. The nightmare receded into fog, and she was safe and sound in her bed in her room in No. 28 Ramsay Street, Erinsborough, Melbourne, Australia. Her mother, Pam Willis, was holding a damp washcloth to her forehead. "Doug!" she called. "She's awake!" Cody's father, Doug Willis, rushed into the room. "Is she alright?" "I think so," Pam said, clearly still concerned. "Cody?" "I think so," Cody sat up, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders onto her blue pyjamas. "What happened?" "We were hoping you'd tell us," Doug said gently. Cody looked at them, confused. "What do you mean?" "We found you by Lassiter's Lake a week ago," Pam told her. "You were in a terrible state, fever and everything." She placed her professional nurse's hand on her daughter's forehead. "It seems to have broken now, thank goodness." "We thought you were in America, with Todd," Doug continued. "Todd?" Cody frowned. Pam looked scared suddenly. "You do know who Todd is, don't you?" "Oh Mum, of course I do," Cody waved an exasperated hand at her. "He used to be my boyfriend." "Used to be?" Doug interrupted. "Did you two break up?" "I... I don't know," Cody's face filled with confusion. "I can't remember!" So why did the image of her "boyfriend", his face contorted with a mixture of terror and demonic glee, crashing backwards through a window, suddenly flash into her head? "What do you remember?" "We - ell..." Cody struggled. "Todd and I were just getting off the bus after our trip. We'd arrived in Twin Peaks and... and... it's all a blank after that."
Copyright © 2003 Ian Kidd |