Part 38 (2/2)

Chris got up. He found himself crossing the tiny amount of s.p.a.ce between them. Roz just stared at him and he folded her up in his arms and kissed her.

He wasn't sure, given the parameters of this reality, whether it was the appropriate thing to do. Given the way she was holding the hair at the back of his neck, he still wasn't sure.

'It's been a long time, Lady Forrester,' he said.

'I'll go program the computer for evasive manoeuvres, then, shall I?' she said hoa.r.s.ely, and fled to the c.o.c.kpit.

269.

Chris sat back down. 'Jack White killed her,' he said, very softly.

'Fifty seconds,' said the Doctor.

The Doctor and Chris reached across the narrow cabin, sitting forward in their seats until their hands met. They grasped each other's hands tightly. The Doctor bowed his head, almost as if he was in prayer.

'Thirty seconds,' said the Pontifex. 'I hope this works.'

'Anything could happen,' said the Doctor. 'History's out of control.'

'The Nexus,' said Chris.

'No,' said the Doctor. 'Just the usual chaos.'

Chris felt the conjunction drop away. It was like letting go of your grip on a window ledge. He felt something pa.s.s over and through him, anchoring itself even as he fell. He grabbed at the Doctor's hands, grabbed at his mind, tried to find something to hold on to.

'Let go!' the Doctor cried out. Let go! Let go!

If you suddenly had never existed, would you know you'd ever lived?

Some questions were too hard to answer. He let go.

'We'll be in Ionian s.p.a.ce in ten minutes,' Roz shouted. She'd left the c.o.c.kpit door open so the Doctor could hear her. 'How is he? Back to normal, OK?'

The Doctor looked up from Chris. The young man was lying on the seat under the window, looking ordinary and rather pale in his servant's uniform, muttering about lemmings and Uruguay.

'He'll be all right,' he called out. 'Containing mult.i.tudes is an exhausting exercise.'

'Good, good,' called Roz.

The Doctor got up and stood in the door of the tiny c.o.c.kpit.

Callisto was a spotty brown ball ahead.

'I wish you could wake him up,' said Roz. 'We could use an experienced pilot.' She brushed her fingers across one of the screens. The Doctor saw two points of light, a red line indicating their current course. 'I think they're going to intercept us. I'm not sure. One thing I am sure about this s.h.i.+p was never meant for 270 tactical manoeuvres. If they catch us, it's two tanks and a school bus.'

The Doctor's eyes went to another screen. It showed a TopTenPercent media report. Explosions, seen from orbit, ugly blossoms in a patchwork atmosphere, blue, brown, red. It was so important that Roz was watching it while they were escaping.

'What's happened?'

'Someone's dropped a comet on Purgatory,' she said.

'The Imperial Landsknechte training planet,' breathed the Doctor. 'It's started.'

'It's not Walid,' said Roz. 'Why drop a bomb on your own troops?'

'Unless the Landsknechte have gone rogue. If they challenged him...'

'Maybe. There's been nothing like that on the news. More to the point, why bomb their school? It's not a strategic target.'

'It's a warning,' said the Doctor. 'This could be you.'

'It must be Armand,' said Roz.

There was an awkward silence.

It was broken when the communicator bleeped. 'Oh s.h.i.+t,' said Roz. 'Wish me luck.'

The Doctor stepped back out of range of the screen. He heard voices from the c.o.c.kpit as he sat down to watch the news.

Purgatory had been hit by a comet dropped into its atmosphere.

It was a bizarre world, composed of great hexagonal slices of other people's planets, dozens of ecologies. The better to train the Landsknechte to go out and blow them up.

The comet had been mostly ice. It had melted as it struck the atmosphere, chunks of rock exploding out of its core. They had rained down all over the training world. Casualties were down in the tens of thousands there weren't more than a few hundred thousand troopers on Purgatory at any given time.

This could be you.

It was war.

In the c.o.c.kpit, Roz yelled, 'Yeah, and I happen to be the newly appointed Pontifex Saecularis, which means I'm your bosses'

worst nightmare. Turn your a.r.s.e around and go back to Io!'

A moment later, she appeared in the doorway. 'That worked.'

271.

'I thought the job didn't begin for a month,' said the Doctor.

'It's been all over the media,' said Roz. 'I told them I'd taken the pair of you prisoner, and it was a jurisdictional problem.'

The Doctor looked at her. 'And is it?' he said.

Roz leant in the doorway, looking at him.

'You might be asked to choose sides, Roz. Very soon,' he told her. 'Do you want my advice?'

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