Doctor Who BBC872 - To the Slaughter

She tried not to shudder. ‘How long will it take me to drop this off and get
back here?’
She felt his quivering chins press sweatily against the back of her neck. ‘Less
than ten minutes.’
She gripped the trolley, which hummed compliantly into life. ‘Wait for me
here,’ she breathed. ‘In that little room over there. Naked.’
An intake of breath. ‘Naked?’
‘When I get back, you can help yourself to everything.’
His piggy eyes glittered. ‘Like a buffet?’
‘All you can eat.’
He gave a hoarse little cry. ‘All right,’ he croaked and staggered out.
Trix gave a low whistle and let the trolley take her away.
‘Five minutes,’ muttered her buffet worriedly. ‘Can’t you move any faster?’
‘I barely know the man and I’ve got him stripping. How much faster can I
move?’ Trix quickened her pace nevertheless, and found the trolley adjusted
to her movements. Soon it was fair whizzing her along through the washedout
corridors. She could hear a low rumbling noise, like the world’s biggest
boiler starting up. The closer they got to the loading bay, the louder it grew.
Then the alarm started up, slinging jagged sawbones of sound all around
them.
‘That’s not good news,’ hissed the Doctor from under his cheesecloth
shroud.
The alarm bells started ringing in her mind as well as in her ears when they
found only a single guard on duty outside Bay Two, sporting a right shiner.
‘I was told to bring some food for the guards,’ she called. ‘Where’d they go?’
‘Cleared out to search the next section,’ said the guard. ‘No sign of the
intruder, we think he sneaked out past us when we used the gas grenades.
He’s highly trained.’
She acted unruffled. ‘He is?’
‘Anyway, Halcyon’s cargo’s on board and he’s ready for blast off, so it’s check
for Full Alert.’
‘Blast off?’ the Doctor cried, springing up from beneath his tablecloth. ‘No,
he can’t! He mustn’t!’
The guard jumped back and raised his gun. But the Doctor had rolled up the
tablecloth and flicked it out like a whip, knocking the gun from his hand. At
the same time, Trix brained him with a silver platter. He went down heavily.
‘We have to stop Halcyon taking off,’ said the Doctor. ‘He’s got the TARDIS!
He’s got Fitz!’
‘And we’ve got problems,’ sighed Trix. She picked up the fallen gun and
studied it. ‘No trigger.’
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