1996. No new Series on the Horizon. What's a boy to do?

It's been a while, but given that there's a little breathing space with a slightly reduced amount of New Who on the horizon, I'm catching up on all the Whofiction that I missed over the years.

Re-reading the Eighth Doctor Adventures when the spirit takes me – which isn’t often, but occasionally the need for more McGann strikes and there’s a fair few I never ploughed through.

On Vampire Science at the moment – it’s weird looking back on these from the position of Who’s current scorched earth policy.... my primary sensation is aggravation at all the right-on stuff keeps getting in the way of the plot – even the descriptive passages are written in such a way that screams “look! We’re young, hip gunslingers, and *this* is how Who should be!!!”

I’m about halfway through, and it's a great book, apart from me sighing every single time Sam opens her mouth (and cheering when she gets her throat ripped open, which is surely not the reaction KateandJon were looking for).

This bit in particular caught my eye, amongst many other exceedingly good bits... I hope nobody minds my posting it. If you enjoyed it, do seek the original novel out. Well worth your time.

'What's to find out about them?' asked Shackle.
'Practically everything,' said the Doctor. An exploring kitten tumbled down the sofa into his lap. He stroked it, absently. 'At the moment all we know about them is that they drink blood. For all we know, we could be dealing with ancient horrors from my people's mythology, human psychopaths, or the giant mosquitoes of Atraxi 3.'
Shackle snickered. The Doctor looked him straight in the eye and held his hands nearly a foot apart. Shackle stopped snickering.
'We need to know their numbers, their goals, and their abilities,' said Kramer.
The Doctor nodded. 'Different strains of vampires, different abilities,' he said. 'The curse manifests itself in many and various ways. All of the attacks so far have taken place at night, so we can assume they have an aversion to sunlight.' Another kitten had arrived, walking across his shoulders. 'The vampires offline Lord legend had incredibly strong circulatory systems, allowing them to heal almost any wound - hence the traditional stake through the heart.'
'I thought the idea was to pin them to the earth,' said Carolyn.
'They can't heal a wound that has an inch-wide piece of wood through it,' said the Doctor. 'You've been reading.'
'As much as I could,' said Carolyn. 'Ever since 1976.'
'Be prepared to forget much of what you've read,' said the Doctor. 'Don't rely on it.' Carolyn nodded.
Kramer was drawing a plan of the nightclub, and the surrounding alleyways, on a sheet of typing paper. 'We're going to the Other Place on a stake-out.' She ignored Shackle's theatrical groan. 'There are two main entrances and exits. Outside' - she drew circles on the map - 'myself in the rear parking lot, Dr McConnell and Dr Shackle in the front parking lot. Inside the club, the Doctor.'
'And Sam,' said Sam.
'Sorry?' said Kramer.
'Inside the club, the Doctor and Sam.' Kramer glanced at the Doctor, who looked vaguely bewildered. By now he had one kitten balancing on his head, two tussling in his lap, and one attempting to clamber up his waistcoat. He looked at Sam. She lifted her hands like paws, and panted.
'Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam.' He shook his head, carefully, and the kitten on top clung on for dear life. 'When are you going to learn not to pointlessly throw yourself in harm's way?'
'When you do. Look, I'm here to learn how to save the world, right? Well how'm I gonna learn how to do it if you don't give me the chance?'
'Oh God,' muttered Kramer. Sam saw how closely the general was watching him. 'Another one.'
'All right. On your head be it,' said the Doctor, removing the kitten. 'But remember, you did ask for it.' Sam grinned, and so did the Doctor, but Kramer's grim expression hadn't changed.
'So what precisely do we do?' Shackle wanted to know. 'Are you going to arm us with machine guns? Or squirt guns filled with holy water?'
'We watch,' said Kramer drily. 'We make a nuisance of ourselves by asking a lot of questions. If anyone suspicious notices and leaves, we follow them.'
'In the meantime, Dr Shackle,' said the Doctor, 'I want to take a look at your records of these killings.'
Shackle said, 'So we're going to defeat these supernatural monsters -'
'Not supernatural,' said the Doctor.
'- these night-stalking, blood-sucking creatures for whom there is no doubt a perfectly logical explanation, through a combination of medical research and patient observation?' He looked at Kramer. 'Couldn't you rustle up a few tanks, or something?'
'Rash action would be foolish,' said the Doctor sternly. If not fatal.' He finally managed to get up and head for the door. 'For now, patience is our weapon. You'll see, Dr Shackle. Tonight.' He stopped for a moment, puzzled, then lifted the last of the curious kittens out of his coat pocket by the scruff of its neck. He presented it to Kramer, who looked at it in utter confusion, and made his exit.

I don’t know about you, but I can totally see Paul McGann festooned with kittens...