Part 25 (1/2)

'Well, he could be resurrected, couldn't he?'

'You know that doesn't happen in real life,' said Dr Who sternly.

'This isn't real life!' his companion protested. Then his face fell. 'Oh. Yes it is. I forgot.'

'See, the Queen gets gunned down, blood everywhere, yet when the emergency services arrive, there isn't a scratch on her.'

The Doctor nodded. 'I can see why that would make the front pages. And why you might suspect my involvement.'

'Especially since UNIT gave out their standard ”No comment” line,' said Ace. That usually means you.'

'It's becoming too easy to track me from media reports. Still, I rectified that in a century or so.' They stepped from the TARDIS and onto a deep, crimson carpet. 'So Elizabeth reaches her Golden Jubilee year after all?'

'Yeah. I saw that in the papers too.'

'But this was only your fifth choice of events?'

'Fifth on the list I said,' she corrected him. 'I was doing them in reverse chronological order. It took me a fortnight to get this 196 far, and then I missed out the fourth one.'

'You did?'

'You told me to.' The Doctor looked confused. Ace enjoyed tying him up in one of his own temporal tautologies.

A gasp of awe distracted her. Mel had emerged from the police box behind them and was staring in wonder. Ace had paid scant attention to their surroundings, but she looked now.

'Not bad,' she admitted grudgingly. She knew it was an understatement.

The enormous, high-ceilinged room was a delight in red and gold, offset by grey marble pillars and lavish floral displays.

'We're in the Great Hall of Buckingham Palace,' the Doctor explained.

'Really? Should we be here?' Ace felt a weird sort of childish guilt, but tried to dismiss the sensation.

'To judge by the absence of staff, I would say it's essential.'

They climbed a magnificent staircase and strolled along the luxuriously furnished Picture Gallery. Ace felt distinctly under-dressed in jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt and her back was cold, missing the hopper's presence. Behind her Mel dallied, examining each painting with a breathless enthusiasm. She found that irritating, but the Doctor was quietly patient. Ace wished her own portrait had been placed here instead of Windsor Castle. That'd show Mel who was changing for the worse.

'You were at number three by the way,' she mentioned, to break the silence. 'My list, I mean. December 2001. You should see the trouble we're going to cause there!'

'And I gave you a hint about where to go next, eh? Not very ethical.'

'You asked me to pa.s.s on a message too.' This was the point she had wanted to make, but she hadn't been sure how to broach it. She studied the Doctor's face. 'You said to do something about Kadiatu Lethbridge-Stewart.'

'Oh.'

'What did you mean?'

'I think my future self should keep my nose out of our business.'

197.

'Doctor!'

'Are you quite finished, Mel?' The Doctor took on fresh purpose as he strode to the Gallery's far end and halted at a set of mirrored doors on the right.

'Where are we going?' Mel asked, reluctantly tearing herself away from the art.

'Throne Room,' he said cursorily.

Chris started as the doors were pushed open. He felt a mixture of surprise, relief and apprehension when the Doctor entered, flanked by two women. His immediate instinct was to join them, but he pulled back as he recognized Ace from the cafe in Glebe and one more of Dr Who's accusations was proved to be true.

Jason rounded on the new arrivals and screamed: 'What are you doing here?'

'I wish to speak to the King,' said the Doctor glibly. He approached the throne.

'You aren't allowed,' Dr Who warned. Chris shuffled, feeling conspicuous by the doppelganger's side.

The Doctor sounded furious. 'Why not? Afraid to face your subjects? Hiding behind guards, giving orders, immune to the consequences? I have a complaint. I have several complaints.

An old woman is living in a box in Hyde Park, an innocent man is in prison, your trains don't run on time, there's a cracked paving stone on Denmark Street, Earth's magnetic field will reverse in four years' time and the corner shop has run out of rice pudding. There are children starving, animals suffering, women afraid to leave home and bombs poised to eradicate this planet and what are you you going to do about it?' He whirled and pointed his umbrella like an arrow. Jason recoiled. going to do about it?' He whirled and pointed his umbrella like an arrow. Jason recoiled.

'You can't blame me.'

'You're in charge, aren't you? You've ruled this country for forty-five minutes now and you haven't yet left your palace.

You are corrupt and indolent and you must be replaced!'

'That's enough!' Dr Who shouted. He was on his feet and the Acme blaster had appeared in his hands. He trained it on the Doctor's back, but his intended target didn't flinch. The 198 Doctor's eyes burnt into Jason's skull. Chris watched the frozen tableau and felt cold. There was so much he wanted to know, but he felt like he shouldn't draw their attention, like his merest whisper might bring disaster.

Ace was under no such constraints. 'Is that supposed to be a weapon?' she scoffed. 'It looks about as deadly as a dose of Molyneux's Radiation.'

'And half as amusing,' the Doctor said. He was concentrating on Jason. 'You did this in the Land of Fiction: put a storybook character on the throne and spoke through him. Are you afraid to confront me yourself?' The young man didn't answer.

'Dispense with your servant. This is between you and me.'

'He's not -'

'He's your creation. He does what you wish, what you don't have the courage to do yourself. If you can't find that courage, you'll never solve anything.' Jason flinched and the Doctor lowered his voice, speaking more kindly. 'Your heart isn't in this. You saved my life. You allowed the Queen to live, although your dark side wished to dispose of her. You know what's right and you don't need a comic strip clone to tell you otherwise. Stand up for yourself.'

Jason circled warily and the Doctor pivoted to follow him. He was still in the gun's sights. 'What do I do?'

'About what?'

'About anything.'

'Tell the shopkeeper to reorder.'

'What?'

'Rice pudding. One problem at a time.'