Chapter 9

The doorbell rang. He waited a second, then a shrill voice shrieked "I'll get it!" and a pair of feet pounded to a stop on the other side. The door was flung open; the girl paused, her face falling, looking uncertain. It wasn't her parents, like she had expected.

Even the Doctor had to catch his breath for a moment, though he had well prepared himself for this confrontation. This was the first time he had met Carrie face to face. She really was an unearthly child. Her skin had the colour and luster of porcelain, her hair was like gossamer spider's web, her eyes were an impossible blue that lit up like sapphires. Then Millie moved into the view through the doorway, standing behind her and giving him a knowing little smile, and Carrie's looks were instantly shown up for their freakishness. She looked like a skinny cyborg, not at all real. Not at all earthly. Most definitely alien. He gave Millie the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod, then began.

"Hello, you must be Miss Carrie." He plastered the widest grin he could manage on his face; though it still came across as insincere, Carrie didn't notice. The shiny gold business card helped. It had the same paper stock and logo as the letter had had. "John Smith, talent scout. I-"

"Oh! I know who you are!" In an instant, Carrie's dubious expression was replaced by her most charming and self-serving of smiles. "You're from the agency! Aren't you supposed to be talking to Mummy and Daddy at your office right now?"

"I know, that was the arrangement," he gave her an apologetic look, and Millie inwardly applauded his performance. "But another later appointment I had was cancelled, so I thought that since I now have the time, I'd see if I could catch your parents before they left so we could talk here and perhaps even do a few test shots-" He held up a large Polaroid camera he had filched from the console room, found stashed under the floor plates. It was a very old model and still slightly dusty, but camera-loving Carrie didn't notice that; at the sight of the lens, her eyes gleamed and she began smoothing her skirt and neatening her hair.

"Oh! That would be brilliant!- But Mummy and Daddy have already left, you just missed them…"

Both their faces fell in disappointment, his mock, hers real. "My office is all locked up, they won't find anyone there… I expect they'll be back soon enough when they find the place closed. Would you mind if I waited here for them? Perhaps while I'm waiting, we could…" he brandished the camera again, and like a carrot before a hungry mule, Carrie galloped forward.

"Oh that would be wonderful! Come in, come in and have a seat!" She turned to look over her shoulder. "Millie!" she hissed in her superior tone, as though her 'sister' were in fact her personal assistant, "Get him a cup of coffee or something!"

"Yes, 'Miss'," answered Millie in mock-servility; she had been hovering near the entrance to the kitchen anyway, ready for the next step in their 'plan'.

"Three sugars," the Doctor added in a much friendlier tone, looking past Carrie. They shared a conspiratorial look which Carrie, absorbed in her own affairs, didn't catch. Things were running right on schedule. Smoother than they'd expected, in fact.

Carrie showed him into the hard, white lounge room, speaking suitably flattering phrases whilst subtly swishing her hair and pausing occasionally in a calculated pose, playing both accommodating hostess and supermodel simultaneously. She had him seated on a stiff white cushion and was prattling about her long-held modeling aspirations when it happened – Millie, trudging in with a full mug of luke-warm coffee, found a rumple in the white mohair rug with her foot, stumbled dramatically, and the cup lurched forward, dousing Carrie from head to toe with sticky brown liquid. Both Millie and the Doctor had to clamp hands over their mouths to keep from snickering; with her pale colouring, Carrie, her hair dripping brown sludge and big brown blotches on her cheeks, looked like she'd just been pulled up from the bottom of a bog.

"You IDIOT!" Carrie blew her top; the saccharine-sweetness of the accommodating hostess was gone, only the prima dona was left. "You stupid, good-for-nothing, soft-headed-" Millie took the barrage with a carefully-crafted look of cowed remorse on her features. The Doctor watched approvingly, and intervened when the situation looked to be getting too ugly.

"Now, now, calm down, my dear. It was an accident, no serious harm done. It hasn't done anything to dampen your looks." Remembering herself, Carrie regained her composure, trying to look modest but still openly smirking in a self-satisfied way at the compliment as coffee dripped off her eyelashes. Behind her, Millie mimed throwing up into the now-empty coffee mug; he had to look away quickly to keep from breaking up. "Tell you what, why don't you go wash up and change, and we'll shoot some photos when your folks get home?"

"Alright then. I won't look much of a picture in this mess!" Carrie spread her hands, which were covered in sticky brown residue, and motioned to her dress, which had been spotless white, but now looked like Jackson Pollock's rendition of a brown-and-white cowhide. "I'll go freshen up, I won't be long. Please make yourself at home while I'm gone." Shooting a dangerous look at Millie that clearly told her not to embarrass her in front of their guest any further while she was gone, Carrie dashed down the hall, and the bathroom door closed behind her. In the lounge room, both Millie and the Doctor waited expectantly; minutes passed, then, as they heard the water start, they both relaxed and let out a sigh of relief. Millie banged down the mug on the coffee table and sank into a seat.

"You managed that well," the Doctor grinned at her. "Actually, it was almost too easy… At least I knew to use a paper business card instead of psychic paper, but I thought she might have recognized me from yesterday…"

"I told you she wouldn't." Millie sighed and shook her head ruefully. "You don't know Carrie. If you haven't lived with her, you wouldn't think it were possible for one person to be so shallow and self-absorbed. I knew she'd go right for it. Though even I'm surprised that she didn't get wise with that old camera-"

"What's wrong with it? It still works!" There was a bright flash; Millie blinked, then glared at the Doctor and the Polaroid as it spat out a white card, a shiny black square of undeveloped film at its centre. "It's not that old. Little souvenir from the 1950's. Still in perfect nick."

They listened to the squeal of water in the pipes for a moment. "It could be a long wait," Millie warned him, knowing from experience just how long Carrie could commandeer the bathroom for.

"All the better," the Doctor replied, lounging as comfortably as he could on the unyielding sofa cushion and crossing his ankles upon the glass-topped coffee table with complete disregard for its spotless surface. "It'll take a while for all that chemical to come away." His expression shifted slightly towards concern. "Are you ready for this?"

Millie stared very hard at the carpet. She wasn't sure. To accept the Doctor's word was one thing, but to actually see it with her own eyes… to see it properly, after obliviously living with it for years… How could you prepare yourself for that…?

The bracelet tinkled on her wrist. She thought of the lies, the deception, how long she had lived without knowing. "I'm ready, I guess. As ready as I'll ever be. There's no going back now, anyway."

"That's right."

He gave her a look from across the room that was serious, yet still reassuring. She sighed and sprawled restlessly in her chair as they sat in companionable silence, listening to the water running, and waiting – waiting to see what would emerge from the bathroom once it stopped.

The street lamps were just blinking on as the little silver hatchback pulled abruptly into the driveway. Sylvie banged the door shut with an air of irritation, taking care as she did so not to scuff an expensive manicure. Her husband followed her; he appeared to be listening dutifully to her ranting.

"No John Smith at all in the entire building! Of all the jokes to play! And that letter looked so authentic! I should've known better, with it on such beige-coloured paper! My poor little Carrie is going to be so disappointed! Why would someone want to do this to-"

Beside her, Jamie's white-leather loafers came to a halt and he threw out a cautionary arm. Sylvie looked at him questioningly and followed his gaze; she gave a gasp that would've been audible two yards down and her hands flew to her mouth. A figure stood beside the house, small and slim and nondescript in silhouette, yet glowing softly and steadily in the fading light. Her skin was lit with an eerie sheen; every hair on her head shimmered as though with an electric current. Her eyes were narrower than normal, with pointed, cat-like pupils that shined strangely like hard blue marbles in their sockets. Her entire face looked tauter, more pinched, the cheekbones protruding in delicate ridges on either side of her face. Her white gossamer dress fluttered around a figure which, already slender, seemed to have almost halved. Almost cautiously, rendered speechless at this sight, they approached in silence, passing through the side gate to where their daughter stood on the driveway. She beamed at them, turning this way and that, gazing in rapture at her own shimmering arms and waifish figure.

"Mummy, Daddy, look at me! It's amazing! I'm… I'm…"

"Beautiful," Jamie breathed at last, unable to tear his eyes away to see his wife nod mutely. "The cosmetics… but the cosmetics should… how-?"

"Like this."

The side gate banged closed, cutting them off from the street, and they whirled around as another thin figure appeared from out of the shadows of the house. The Doctor brandished the hose's nozzle like a pistol; a strong jet of water shot out, dousing them both. As it hit them, they both screamed, as if it hurt them as it had the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz. After a few moments, the Doctor lowered the hose; he glanced at Millie, who was standing, frozen, by the water tank beside the house, and seeing that she wasn't about to do it, he went and turned the tap off himself. The night was strangely quiet as the water stopped gushing and the tap squeaked shut. Millie was staring at the two dripping creatures on the driveway. Like Carrie, they were glowing softly and had shrunken to half their usual width. Their faces were almost cat-like, pinch-looking, with slanting, almost predatory eyes that were piercing shades of blue, and teeth that were tiny, like little grains of rice, and sinisterly pointed. There wasn't a single blemish on their radiating skin, and their hair was like a mass of glow-bands, waving softly in the slight breeze. Millie couldn't stop staring at them; they were somehow fascinating, but she felt a shiver up her spine, an ominous feeling, like looking at a slender snake that was poised to strike, or an insect which just might have a deadly bite. The effect was rather like that of stick insects given human proportion, long and gangly, as though their bones were barely half an inch thick. Carrie was looking at her parents in awe as well, and Sylvie and Jamie were gaping at each other as well. Of the whole little congregation, the Doctor was the only one with his mouth closed and his lips firmly set together, looking not only unimpressed, but distinctly disapproving.

"You!" Jamie took his eyes off his wife, his daughter and himself in order to face him defensively. "What did you-?"

"Yeah, sorry, those chemicals were rather strong, weren't they?" The Doctor swung the hose casually at his side. "Heavy concentrate. No wonder the lawn is so green. Completely undid the effect of the neithogenes with a stronger dose of flurogenes. It completely restored your original appearances. Your disguises are water-soluble. I bet you guys never go swimming and never go out in the rain."

"Never," Millie affirmed, sounding somewhat vague, reciting remembered excuses with her eyes never leaving her former family's new forms. "Chlorine was bad for the hair, and going out in the rain, you'd just catch a chill."

"And everyone knows having the flu is pretty unattractive," the Doctor added. "'Pretty'. Yesterday I heard you say 'for pretty's sake'. That's a literal English translation of a phrase from your home planet - Ovagene 5, and you guys are Ovagenerians. I went there once, a long time ago. Flurogenes were everywhere, in the air. Made my celery sprig come up very fresh."

Jamie looked suspiciously from Millie to The Doctor. "Who-?"

"There were other signs," the Doctor continued, cutting him off. "The names. Ovagenerians always use cut nicknames instead of the long, grand names they were given at birth. They're a bit like Australians that way, they give everyone nicknames. All usually ending in 'ie' – Terrie, Kerrie, Larrie, Timmie, Tommie, Susie, Sylvie, Jamie. Probably short for Sylvia and James."

"Sylvineira and Jamiqualez, actually." Sylvie found her voice, then abruptly stopped talking again, looking sheepish. Jamie gave her an exasperated look.

"No harm in telling me your Ovagenerian names," the Doctor pointed out. "I think the cat is well and truly out of the bag."

"Who are you?" Jamie demanded. "How did you find this out? You seem to know a lot…"

"…about alien races?" The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out his flip-wallet. "I'm the Doctor, agent of UNIT, enforcer of the Shadow Proclamation."

"But you're not one of those great lumbering-" Sylvie began.

"No, not all Shadow Proclamation Enforcers are Juddoon. But I lumber along just fine in my own way." He replaced the wallet in his jacket, but his hand stayed there, as though it were resting on a concealed weapon. Sylvie and Jamie both stiffened, sharing wary glances.

"We're not here to invade or anything," Jamie began cautiously. "We're here peacefully, just trying to make a better life for our children-"

"Child, you mean." The Doctor's frown deepened. "Let's start at the beginning. You came here about fourteen years ago. Travel promotions, see the stars, some illegal-" Jamie and Sylvie both flinched at the word "-operators offer Earth as an unspoiled nature reserve, no other tourists, although Earth's track record at the moment for lack of alien life forms isn't exactly stellar. You had a child, and you decided to stay here. Because Ovagenerians are all about looks. They're incredibly competitive in the looks department. You thought human bullying was harsh-" he spoke more to Millie than the others "-you should see Ovagenerian schoolyards. They're like debutantes and supermodels combined, but even more spiteful. Anyone with the slightest blemish is ostracized, considered a freak, and it's a constant struggle to be the most beautiful. Ovagenerians make the pursuit of their idealized concept of beauty their life's work – which is where the cosmetics come in. You guys created batches of neithogenes so you'd fit in with the locals here, suppress your true appearance and pass for human, but you'd still look different to normal humans, just a bit otherworldly, just a bit too pretty. You faked paperwork to give yourselves visas, credentials, all the little extra trappings of a normal human existence. You brought up your daughter, Carrie, as a human, but as an extraordinary human, with her inherited otherworldly looks veiled by cosmetics, the prettiest among her contemporaries. In keeping with Ovagenerian social values, you made sure she was the most superior of her peers, prettier, and therefore, to your minds, more successful than anyone else. But that wasn't good enough. You didn't stop there. Oh, no. When Carrie was born, you faked more paperwork and adopted a human child, a child who would necessarily always look plain compared to Carrie, just because she was human and Carrie's 'foreign' looks showed through. Not only was Carrie brought up without the competition of other Ovagenerian children, but you gave her a 'whipping girl' so to speak, someone who she could be compared favourably to and belittle constantly to boost her own ego. You even convinced them that they were twins – two more 'ie' names, Carrie and Millie, I suppose short for Caroline and Millicent-"

"Carriseras and Millicitude," Sylvie corrected him again. The Doctor shrugged, as though he hadn't really expected to get it right after Sylvineira and Jamiqualez. "And another thing you got wrong," she continued recklessly, ignoring her husband's cautionary look, "we were up to Ovagene 10 when we left our home planet. You must have been there a long time ago if it was Ovagene 5 when you were there; no doubt it's been made over many times since we've left. They were constantly improving, making things better, remaking the entire planet to be more beautiful, more idyllic, more pleasant to look at. You have no idea what it was like, living under that sort of pressure, constantly struggling to keep up with the Jonesarians, having to get work done, stay perfectly groomed, change appearances constantly-"

"We-ell," the Doctor murmured to himself, but didn't say anything more.

"-it was too much to bear, the stress was giving me wrinkles, bags were forming under poor Jamie's eyes-"

"Sylvie!" Jamie looked scandalized at the idea, blinking his shiny cat's-eyes in indignation, the face around them currently flawless.

"You were!" Sylvie declared. "It's the nature of humans to tell things as they are, and at the time it was true! We needed a break for a while, just to slacken the pace for a few months or so and come back revitalized, but we had to do it on the quiet, we didn't want everyone to know that we weren't pretty enough to cope! And life was so much easier out here in the wilderness, absolutely no competition, we had the humans in our thrall with our beauty, and with Jamie's skills as a chemist we had no trouble adapting to the local physique." She scratched at a spot just above her elbow that was already red from where her long fingernails had raked it before. "And then we had Carrie, and we wanted to give her a better life here, without all that pressure-"

"What about your other child?" The Doctor's voice was uncharacteristically hard with concealed anger. "What about the human child you adopted, to play 'ugly sister' to Carrie's Cinderella? Her life hasn't been easy, she's had a cruel existence to deal with, living with you when she could've been living with a loving human family. The constant taunts and teasing, the lack of attention and genuine love throughout her whole life, she's the one who's been living under pressure. It's no wonder the bracelet on her wrist has been shooting off all the time, she's constantly being victimized, and you-"

"But we've given her a good life!" Jamie interrupted him; his face had taken on a slight pinkish tinge as his temper rose. "We've given her a beautiful home, lovely clothes to wear, sent her to a prestigious school. No other human child on the planet has a Pandero bracelet to protect them from attacking ruffians, though why it's letting her stand next to you, making all these wild accusations, I do not know. She's had every advantage of our lifestyle, it's common practice on Ovagene to take in a lesser being with which to favourably compare-"

"Not here it isn't." Compared to his usual wordiness, the Doctor's brevity was more effective than words; there was a keenness to him that replaced his usual levity, and even Jamie and Sylvie seemed reluctant to reply. As they opened their mouths to argue back, however, another voice interrupted them.

"Shut up, all of you! Don't talk about me as though I'm not here!"

A shower of sparks bounced off the brass head of the water facet, tarnishing it. Surprised by the sight and the authorative tone in her voice, they all obediently fell silent and turned to look at Millie.