Part 21 (1/2)

The Doctor nodded. 'Yes. And the build-up of forces here is already causing problems in the Sidhe world.'

'Because iron is dangerous to them ' began Garcia.

'Yes, yes, exactly,' said the Doctor, apparently losing patience. 'The damage an engagement of any size out of phase would cause could be incalculable. The Sidhe would, of course, blame humanity.'

'But it's the Amadan Amadan's fault!' protested Fitz.

The Doctor looked at Fitz. 'The Amadan Amadan is paving the way. Chaos is his thing. It's still the human war that will be blamed for the catastrophe. There could be open aggression between man and Sidhe.' is paving the way. Chaos is his thing. It's still the human war that will be blamed for the catastrophe. There could be open aggression between man and Sidhe.'

'But they're just elves primitives. What could they do against human technology?' Garcia asked.

'Primitive?' the Doctor echoed. 'The Sidhe? Oh, they're ”primitive” all right: they like music and arts, they have royal courts, they live and love... Primitive!' He shook his head. 'They have a sufficiently advanced knowledge of quantum homeostatics to re-edit Sam's biodata. They can phase themselves in and out of your perceptions. They can go anywhere on Earth, no matter the walls or security. They can walk through time and interact with your past, change your att.i.tudes and experiences.... And if the worse comes to the worst they're experts at poison and a.s.sa.s.sination. Those are your ”primitives”.'

'And they don't like iron.'

'No... Electromagnetism-based lifestyles come at a price.'

'Oh, every time,' deadpanned Fitz.

Garcia frowned. 'So how do they do all that?'

'Magic,' the Doctor said simply.

'Don't insult my intelligence, Doctor. This is the twentieth century; surely you don't believe in magic.'

'Well, let me put it this way: I can call it ”magic”, with all the nice feelings of wonderment that that word inspires; or I can waste your time with half an hour of techn.o.babble that you could never possibly understand a word of anyway. Which would you prefer?'

Garcia thought about this, then nodded lamely. 'OK, magic it is.'

'Good, because I don't think we've got half an hour to waste. I know how we can close the breach.' That got everyone's attention. 'We need the TARDIS's relative dimensional stabiliser, and a large metallic ma.s.s to act as a focus. Both the rift and its cause are electromagnetic in nature, so, if we can realign the dimensions on to a... well, in effect a circuit-breaker, the rift should implode into the metallic ma.s.s, and seal up.'

'That'll stop Lewis's tanks?'

'Yes, I think so. It's possible to phase them all the way into the Sidhe range of realities on their own, but it would take far more electrical power than they can possibly generate independently. So he must be relying on the Rift to ease the way through.'

'Can't the TARDIS transfer us into the levels the Sidhe originate from?' Fitz asked.

The Doctor shook his head. 'It could support their environment inside, but trying to exist inside and out in all the levels would be beyond its design limits. If I tried to stretch the TARDIS that far, she'd almost certainly lose dimensional cohesion.'

'And that would be bad?'

'Profoundly,' the Doctor confirmed. 'Imagine all of your senses each being trapped in a different room, and your body, having been simultaneously hanged, drawn and quartered.'

'I'll try not to, if you don't mind.' Fitz knew he inevitably would now, probably when he least wanted to, like while preparing breakfast. He wondered if the Doctor knew what effect his throwaway lines could have on people.

Sam tapped her foot on the floor. 'Wait a minute,' she said. 'All you need is a large metallic ma.s.s, right?'

'Yes.'

'So why not just use this this tank? It'd be better than sending it back to the war, and I don't think much of it as a souvenir, either.' tank? It'd be better than sending it back to the war, and I don't think much of it as a souvenir, either.'

'Fifty tons of steel isn't enough.'

'Then why didn't you take a bigger tank?'

'Like a King Tiger, you mean?' he asked. Sam nodded. The Doctor shook his head. 'Seventy tons of steel isn't enough either.'

This was exasperating, even for Fitz. 'Then how much do we need?'

The Doctor frowned, and started counting on his fingers. 'About two thousand tons ought to do it,' he said casually.

'Two thousand? That's, what...?' Fitz did some quick mental calculations of his own. 'Forty tanks! How are we supposed to get forty tanks together?'

'Well,' the Doctor admitted, 'there are a couple of hundred of them knocking around at the moment, but I doubt we could gather so many in one place. Besides, we've then got to get them into the rift.'

'Then where...?'

'From Lewis.'

'But you said using tanks isn't practicable. And he'd never agree to it. So how do you expect to get any equipment out of him?'

The Doctor merely smiled. 'That would be telling.'

The TARDIS had materialised under the Rift, at a road junction atop the Skyline Drive. Kovacs emerged first, and couldn't help glancing up. He knew the Rift the Doctor had told them about must be right here, but he saw no sign of it. Other, perhaps, than a few stray shadows in the woods on either side of the road.

Garcia, Wiesniewski, and Bearclaw followed him out, the Doctor bringing up the rear. 'Remember. The Sidhe will meet you here at any moment. I need you to prevent either Lewis or Leitz from getting tanks into the Rift. Preferably through persuasion, but I doubt that'll really be practical.'

'You know what they say, Doc,' Kovacs replied coolly, 'you can get further with a kind word and a two by four, than you can with a kind word.'

'Well, try the kind words first. I'd better get going; I have something to collect. Good luck, and stay in one piece.'

'You too,' Garcia told him firmly.

The Doctor merely smiled, and vanished back inside the TARDIS, which faded into thin air with a strange, rasping, groaning sound. 'I wonder if he's really going to fix things,' Kovacs muttered, 'or just showing more sense than us.'

'He'll keep his word,' Bearclaw told him in no uncertain terms.

'Yeah, if you say so.' Totally unconvinced, Kovacs leaned against a tree and rubbed his eyes with one hand. 'What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing, Jeff?' he asked himself softly. 'Since when did you put your life on the line for someone who isn't one of your boys?' He sighed. 'Since they got to thinking that a Hero was more than just a New York sandwich...'

He could really use a drink right now, but if he got drunk now he probably wouldn't be sober before the Doctor and Garcia decided it was time to move out. And Kovacs had to get them all home safely. Only then could he go to the Pacific theatre and kill j.a.ps.

He opened his eyes again after a moment. 'OK. Where are these Sidhe who were supposed to meet us?'