Part 24 (2/2)

'Oh, I exist now, do I?' said Bernice.

Roz pushed the cannibalized weapon into the field area. A short, thin beam whined from its muzzle. 'When it does go down,' she said, 'we'll have to move in fast - before Jason finds out and thinks of something else.'

They stood up and Bambera gave her a congratulatory clap on the back. 'Good work, soldier!'

Bernice and Tavistock exchanged a long-suffering look, united by helplessness.

They waited for the blaster to do its work.

193.

21.

Consternation Day

'Why do you deny me?'

'You don't have a say. Your time is over.'

'That's not true.'

'It has to be!'

'Look where you've got us: our companions jeopardized and the timelines unravelling.'

'You can make all the accusations you like. I won't let you out: 'You're running from the truth.'

'I'm doing what's right.'

'Why don't you face me?'

'. . . He's coming round.'

The Doctor opened his eyes. White ceiling. He was lying on the TARDIS floor. Ace hovered over him. 'Didn't you leave?'

he muttered blearily. He blinked away thoughts of bad dreams.

He stood, rubbing his shoulder. It felt stiff.

Mel came into focus, standing at the console's far side. He peered myopically. 'You too?'

'Ace knocked you out,' she announced distastefully, 'as soon as you walked through the door.'

'I had to be sure you weren't the double,' Ace said apologetically. 'He doesn't have a sensitive nerve cl.u.s.ter in his shoulder.'

'I'm sorry I told you about that now,' he said ruefully. 'We're short of time. How long have I been out?'

'Fifteen minutes,' she said. 'Sorry.'

'Don't worry.' He allowed a hint of sarcasm to enter his voice. 'It's a tried and tested human procedure dating back to Medieval witch hunts. If the victim suffers extreme physical 194 pain and/or death, he's innocent.' He began to op erate the controls.

'Where are we going?' asked Mel.

The Doctor looked at her through misted eyes and teased out memories from his cotton wool brain. 'I don't know yet,' he said. 'But I'm sure it's important.'

Chris stood beneath an elaborate chandelier and swallowed at the sight of the twin thrones, raised up on a three-stepped dais.

They were only wooden chairs, he told himself, albeit gilded and upholstered with fine red silk. But they represented more.

Just being here made him feel dirty and treacherous; like he was rummaging in the Empress's bed chambers. He realized that that simile wasn't far off the mark.

Dr Who and Jason didn't help matters. They capered like children winning a trivial game: sitting down, getting up again and circling the room with wide eyes. They wouldn't tell him what they had done to the Queen. He felt sick at the thought that he might be an accomplice after the fact to regicide.

Chris had been invited to try a throne himself. He'd declined, just as he had held back in the balcony room during that debacle. He wanted no part of this, but he had little choice. His kidnap from Roz's side (Dr Who 'just happened to have' a remote transmat device handy with which to rescue his friend) had left him in no doubt about the duo's powers. He had to be careful about getting on their wrong side.

'What are you going to do now?' he asked, when he could bear their playful antics no longer.

The question seemed to sober them temporarily. Jason dropped into the left-hand throne and nibbled at a fingernail.

'Pa.s.s a few laws, I think. Tax the rich for a squid-zillion pounds each. Sack the Prime Minister. Restore hanging for football hooligans and racists.'

And invading monsters,' put in Dr Who.

Jason nodded eagerly. 'And ban school uniforms.' He turned to his colleague. I could never see the point of them, could you?'

'I thought you were supposed to be making things better,'

195.

said Chris pointedly.

'We will,' said Jason, hurt by that barb. 'We can't do worse than our last ruler.' He jumped to his feet and ushered Dr Who into the vacated chair. 'I've a surprise for you.' He produced it from beneath his blazer: a magnificent tiara of interlocking diamond circles, an emerald slotted into each. Your crown.'

'Oh, Jason,' said the recipient with false modesty.

'I got it from that horde of jewels down the corridor.'

'I remember. But as I said then, that wealth could be better spent on ordinary people.'

'But you must have a crown,' insisted Jason. He lowered it onto Dr Who's head and the older man didn't resist.

'Congratulations!' Jason stepped back and beamed. 'You're now officially the King.' He visibly tingled with pleasure. 'Oh, this is perfect! I just hope the Doctor doesn't come along and spoil it.'

'I thought he was dead!' exclaimed Chris, a desperate hope forming.

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