Part 2 (1/2)

The Phracton seemed agitated. Lights flickered on its surface. Again the grille commanded. 'You will leave.' The laser-tube retracted into the globe.

Slowly, unbelievably, the Phracton bobbed backwards, starting to move out of the shattered building.

Suzi wondered whether to let out the breath she had been holding. And then, with the Phracton's shadow still receding, something moved at her feet.

She thought it might be a rat. She jumped. There was a movement of grey and black, a cascade of dust. Faster than Suzi could move or even think, the woman beneath the ruins had sat up, dust streaming from her like water as if repelled by an inner energy. It was only now that Suzi noticed with horrified fascination that the woman's body was naked. And those eyes, those eyes of green, were burning like beacons across the shattered land.

Inside its casing, the Phracton convulsed.

Suzi heard the unnatural, tortured screech from the translation grille an instant before she realized what was happening. The alien's globe-shaped module wobbled, sank like a deflating balloon, the creature within thras.h.i.+ng in agony as if impaled. The module crashed to the dust with a crackle of sparks and a scream. Suzi watched in mounting horror as the globe began to fill with blue droplets which spattered like glutinous rain against its interior.

Suddenly it was all over. The globe rolled once with a slight squelching noise, and lay still. The only sound was, once more, the distant gunfire of some small pocket of resistance.

Somehow Suzi tore her eyes away from the wreck and back to the being she had saved. The woman was glistening as if wet. Suzi saw her put her spindly fingers to her temples once, which seemed to make the emerald glow recede from her eyes.

She slumped, as if a terrible weakness had seized her, but still the eyes in the bony face met Suzi's with a level gaze.

The eyes in the almost alien face.

Suzi swallowed once. 'It wasn't going to do us any harm,' she ventured.

The woman did not answer. Her long face seemed to wear an expression of intense agony for a second, like a mere shadow of pain, and then it pa.s.sed and a smile of serenity settled there.

'You killed it,' Suzi said in horror, pus.h.i.+ng her silver fringe from her eyes.

The aftermath of terror was rus.h.i.+ng through her limbs, searing them with cramp.

18.I merely induced a conflict. I sent a message persuading the organic cells they were being attacked by the technology with which they harmonized. were being attacked by the technology with which they harmonized.

The voice, to Suzi Palsson's creeping unease, was inside her head.

It soothed, like an ambient lullaby.

This produced a mental breakdown. The creature was dangerous. It had to die. die.

Somehow, it resolved itself, like one of those pictures of a young woman which is simultaneously an old crone. The thought settled in Suzi's mind and she recalled the Phracton's laser-tube pointing at her. It had been going to kill her. This was a war, surely? No amount of pleading would have dissuaded a hostile from eliminating its prey. The woman had saved them both.

The green eyes smiled at Suzi.

They said: My name is Shanstra. Take me to your place of safety. My name is Shanstra. Take me to your place of safety.

Bernice found the console room dim and empty. The Doctor's hat and umbrella were hanging on the hatstand. She sighed, pivoted on one heel and wondered where to go and look for him next. As she slipped her hands into the pockets of her waistcoat, her fingers came into contact with the smooth little pyramid again. She took it out, stared at herself in its s.h.i.+ny surface.

How did one activate this kind of thing? There were no visible switches, not even flaws in the surface that might have been touch-pads. Maybe it had to be rubbed like a magic lantern, and out would pop the enigmatic little genie.

Absently, Benny stroked her thumb along the edge of the pyramid.

It lost its form in her hand, sparkling like fireflies, and before she knew what she was doing she had let go of the little pyramid and it was floating on a cloud of light. The cloud resolved itself into the shape of the Doctor.

It was immediately obvious that the hologram, although interactive, did not correspond exactly to the Doctor's current physical being, as the image was leaning on his umbrella and wearing a hat and the Doctor's old, chocolate-brown coat. The realism was perfect, though were it not for a slight haziness around the edges, it could easily have been the Doctor himself. He was looking around as if puzzled about something.

Bernice cleared her throat, and, although she had expected it, she was still surprised when the hologram's eyes alighted on her as if seeing her for the first time.

'Ah, Benny. Still here, are you?'

'Yes. And it might help matters if I knew where you you were, don't you think?' were, don't you think?'

'Mmm.' The Doctor nodded gravely.

'There doesn't seem to be much going on in the console room. I just thought you should know.'

19.'That's all right. Everything's perfectly in order.' The holo-Doctor Benny decided mentally she had better start calling it the h-Doctor if they were going to get acquainted smiled absently at her and began to examine the floor with an expression of intense curiosity; eyes flicking back and forth in that owlish way she knew so well. The mannerisms had been meticulously programmed.

'Tertiary console room,' he said to her. 'Come and find me.' The image started to dissolve.

Benny spread her hands. 'I can't remember '

'How to get there? No, of course, you weren't there when I last used it.' A neat map of blue lines floated out of the h-Doctor's mouth. 'Think you can memorize that?'

'Well, I suppose so '

'Good.'

The map became a funnel of light, which rushed downwards towards one single point. The pyramid sat on the floor of the console room, looking as if it were waiting for Bernice to pick it up.

She pocketed it. She closed her eyes and allowed the map to float in front of them again. 'All right, Doctor,' she said to herself, 'let's see what you're playing at.'

20.

3.

Memory Lane Ahead

England, Earth, 1997 In the grey city, it was drizzling, and Nita was beginning to wish they had brought an umbrella.

The sky above the city was like stained steel, and the tower blocks were standing out as if someone had painted them black. Traffic and people scuttled. Nita, adjusting her sari, hurried to keep pace with her mother, and thought now of the City Hall and the colours and sounds that would be awaiting her. There, too, if she was lucky, she might meet her future husband.

Parked at a meter in the street outside the City Hall was a white Volkswagen Polo which Nita recognized. She knew the occupant, too, but could not acknowledge her. Nita had sensed her mother's tight-lipped expression without even needing to see it, and lowered her eyes in shame while they went by the car.

They ascended the steps, pa.s.sing a large advertising pillar on their right and an archaic blue police box on their left.

Deep within the TARDIS, the tertiary console room cast its bluish light on the Doctor's face.

He was deep in thought, standing at the stone console with his fingers pressed together in an arch in front of his closed eyes. His face was even more deeply lined now, his tousled brown hair was tinged with grey, and despite several weeks of quiet meditation he still felt drained from his last adventure.

The TARDIS clicked and hummed quietly as the Doctor remembered.

Ace had gone. That much was certain. It was unlikely that he would ever see her again. It was too soon for him to say exactly what feelings that aroused in him the last few weeks had been spent in a kind of spiritual and emotional limbo. The Doctor had deliberately cut himself off from most activity, communicating with Bernice only in scribbled notes pinned to roundels. He a.s.sumed she would think he was sad, mourning Ace's departure; or maybe she understood him fully, knew that he had been trying to pa.s.s through a kind of gateway and make a fresh start? This time, even after all his suffering, the refuge and comfort of regeneration had not been afforded him, and he was 21 beginning to wonder if that natural process would ever happen again. Just how much did his body and mind have to be punished before it could be re-newed? The recent wound in his shoulder had not entirely healed, and every time it twinged he was reminded of his past, and all that had built up to this moment. The cycle of events that had brought him into conflict with the Monk again, the subsequent return to exuberant adventuring the three of them, a fine team and then . . .