Doctor Who BBCN17 - Sick Building by Doctor Who Page A

no place here! I built the Dreamhome to keep animals like you away from us! You will not get us now!’
    The creature thrust its unicorn-like horn right into the fractured glass and the noise was ear-splitting. The great glass wall came crashing down and the beast’s massive, coarsely haired body surged into the kitchen.
    Tiermann darted backwards. He urged his robots on. ‘Destroy it!
    Destroy!’
    The bravest robot – one whose sole employment thus far in its life had been to scrape root vegetables clean – trundled forward to face the beast. One great paw lashed out and – SMASH and CRUMPLE –the robot was reduced to scrap.
    The other two hesitated, but knew they had no choice. The tablet robot and the dishwasher went to meet their fate.
    Tiermann backed away quickly. ‘No, no, no, no. . . ’ He was pulling at his hair and beard madly, as if he could hardly believe that something had come into his home unbidden. He watched the screaming creature run its ivory horn through the medicine robot’s chest, and then he turned tail and ran, deeper into the house.
    He had to seal off this wing of the Dreamhome. He had to bring the emergency shutters down. He had to regain control of this nightmare.
    64

    But where were his wife and son? Had they left him here? Had they vanished and left him to deal with this alone?
    It felt very much like entering some holy inner sanctum. As the Doctor and his new friends at last arrived in the dimly lit recesses of Level Minus Forty, he was aware of a very strange atmosphere. Toaster and Barbara had become very quiet, and they were heading purposefully towards their goal, but with a measured and respectful tread. The ambience of the place made the Doctor want to take off his shoes and socks, or remove his hat (had he been wearing one) out of respect.
    Burning torches lit their way (but who lit them? Who else occupied this strange level?) and there was a musky smell of burning incense.
    One last pair of double doors greeted them at the end of the final corridor. They were covered with intricate designs in scrolling iron-work. Barbara turned to the Doctor and said, in a muted voice: ‘We are about to enter into the heart of Dream home. You must beware, Doctor. Hardly any softbodies are allowed to enter here. You must tread very carefully.’
    He blinked at her. ‘“Softbodies"?’
    Toaster harrumphed. ‘Barbara means organic beings, of course.
    She’s using Servo-furnishing slang.’
    ‘I keep myself nice and trim, I’ll have you know,’ the Doctor protested. ‘Softbody, indeed.’
    ‘You would find out how soft your body is,’ Toaster warned, ‘should the Domovoi decide to crush it.’
    The Doctor swallowed. ‘Erm, powerful, is she?’
    Toaster flickered with blue light. ‘She is the most powerful being on this world. She controls all.’
    The Doctor sighed. ‘Well, I always believe in taking your problems straight to the very top.’ He stepped forward briskly and, without further ado, threw open both doors. ‘Especially when the very top is at the very bottom, so to speak.’
    Barbara muttered another warning, about approaching with due reverence, but it was too late. The Doctor was marching into a wide and gloomy room. The walls and floor were a glossy metallic green 65

    and, at the far end of the room, there was what appeared to be a vast fireplace.
    ‘Wonderful!’ the Doctor cried, hurrying towards the blazing hearth.
    ‘What a superb feature!’
    His companions came clattering across the floor after him.
    The flames in the grate roared and burst forward, as if they could grasp the Doctor up and burn him to cinders where he stood. They were a strange, lambent green.
    The Doctor jumped back smartly. ‘Aha, mind the suit,’ he grinned.
    ‘Doctor. . . ’ Barbara said nervously. ‘This is, erm, this is the Domovoi. The spirit, heart and hearth of Dreamhome.’
    The flames flashed and darted with seeming relish. They danced and held the three visitors entranced for