Part 21 (1/2)

'That's a weapon an' 'alf and no mistake, guv'nor,'

commented Jessie.

'I left it here so the Queen wouldn't spot it if she looked out of her window,' Dr Who said. 'What do you think, Cruncher?'

Cruncher grinned and smacked a fist into one palm.

'Hey Mister,' shouted the teenager on the tracks, 'is this your tank or what?'

'It certainly is, young fellow.'

'Are you making a film?'

'No. I intend to smash my way into Buckingham Palace.'

'Top! Can me and me mate hitch a ride?'

'The more, the merrier.'

The youth pulled open the tank's lid and ushered a similarly keen friend into its s.p.a.cious interior. Jason watched on proudly, but he deflated as he turned and saw Chris's disapproving expression.

'I think this has gone far enough.'

'What, getting cold feet?' sneered Jason. 'Becoming a cowardly custard?'

'Look, I agree that this place isn't perfect. But Queen Elizabeth II is a respected historical figure where I come from.

You can't just barge in there and . . . and beat her up!'

163.

'She 11 only need beating up,' said Jason, 'if she won't step down and let somebody fairer take over.'

'Forget it!' instructed Chris. 'There are proper channels you can go through. There's no point continuing this farce!'

'Farce?' Jason exploded.

Chris indicated his unlikely army. 'You've spent three hours a.s.sembling this lot!'

Jason felt tears welling again. 'If you're going to be childish,'

he bl.u.s.tered, 'then you can't play. We'll make do without you!

But you just be careful -' He wagged a stern finger '- else you'll end up becoming a villain and getting blown up like the Doctor!' He turned his back on the traitor and strode towards the battletank, fists clenched to suppress his anger.

Dr Who was helping Jessie into the c.o.c.kpit. She hesitated, pointing out the rows of decals which adorned the door. 'What the flippin' 'eck are those?'

Jason's disappointment was forgotten in an instant. 'They were my idea. I saw it on the telly once. It's all the horrid dictators we've sorted out with the tank.' He pointed to a sticker: a silhouette of a multi-tentacled beast. 'That one was the Fifty-Legged Sweet Stealer of Mentraculus IV. This -' He indicated a more regular, three-sided shape was the . . . erm, the . . . I know, the Evil Green Triangle of the planet Trigonometrus. And these are all Trods down here, we're always battering them.'

'This time,' Dr Who observed, 'we won't have to bother getting one of those shapes cut out. We can stick a first cla.s.s stamp on the door instead.'

Jason laughed heartily, but his good humour faded as his eyes met the resolute stare of Chris Cwej. There was no point getting steamed up, he told himself. After all, he still had six freedom fighters, including the kids. And there was only one Queen.

He'd have this country sorted out by tea-time.

Jason hauled himself into the c.o.c.kpit. He failed to register that he'd stepped on a b.u.t.terfly. It crumbled to powder.

164.

18.

Getting There

Almost two hours into the journey, the Doctor was still pacing the empty first cla.s.s carriage at the back of the London to Sheffield express. Mel had woken from a troubled sleep and she rubbed her eyes and groaned as he sat down opposite her again and fidgeted. 'That won't get us there any faster you know,' she said.

He scowled. 'We might not get there in time at all. Over two decades and still this miserable corporation haven't realized my concept for a super-fast train! What have they been doing?'

'Your concept?'

The Doctor looked at Mel as though she was nothing but an unwanted distraction. 'I was going to pop back and suggest it,'

he said. 'I'll still have to, even though it didn't work. At least the timetable amendments I'll make were taken up.'

Mel's head spun. 'You are kidding me, aren't you? You're going to travel back in time to make arrangements so that we can be on this train now? I don't believe you!'

The Doctor looked at her sharply. It's not impossible,' he said. 'Just an intricate and risky operation. And not as successful as I'd wished.' He was up and pacing again. Mel watched him helplessly, unable to see the loveable rogue with whom she had once travelled.

This new Doctor was truly an alien. She didn't know him at all.

The battletank's engine sounded like a pneumatic drill. A small crowd was gathering, watching curiously as the lurid yellow object hove into view around the side of the Victoria Memorial.

Amongst them, Chris stood, his stomach churning with 165 indecision. What would the Doctor do now? Probably whip up some device to stop the thing in its tracks, he thought. Would that he could do likewise - right now, he didn't even have a gun.

The unwieldy war-weapon was turning, inexorably, to orient itself upon the Palace's main gates. Dr Who was really going to do this! There was nothing Chris could do to stop him: even alerting the security forces would be a wasted effort. They would know soon enough, in any case.

Jessie leaned out of the cab window and gave an exhilarated cry of 'Yeee-haaaaa! The battletank surged ahead with unexpected speed, and Chris pushed his way towards its target, desperately hoping that a chance to help might somehow, miraculously arise.

'Then the nun,' Bernice was saying, 'whipped off her habit and said: ”Ta-daaa! The bus driver!” ' The bus driver!” '

The punchline was punctuated by an almighty crash and the tortured shriek of rending metal.

'It's happened,' said Roz. She broke into a run.

'You could at least have t.i.ttered,' muttered Benny as she followed.

The train had stopped and the Doctor was arguing with a uniformed conductor, displaying an intensity which made Mel s.h.i.+ver. 'I've told you, I can fix your mechanical failure in two minutes.' Mel shrunk back into her seat and desperately wanted not to be here. 'And don't tell me about your petty regulations.