Part 21 (1/2)

'The deaths of a few bought the lives of many. No, Surgeon Major. I don't need to ask.'

The Doctor still had his hands pressed flat against the window gla.s.s. Conaway enclosed one of the hands in her own. 'The only choice you have is to save lives. Save as many lives as you can. If it's all you can do then at least do that.'

The Doctor sighed.'I can't do that. All life is important. All life. Who am I to judge the relative worth of living beings? How can I judge, even if I were able to do so? Can't you see? They were right. I can't interfere. I mustn't!'

Conaway gripped the Doctor's hand even more tightly. 'How can you not? This situation is your fault.You say you put the sword in the barbarian's hand. Well - surely the least you could do is take away the sword.'

The Doctor seemed almost paralysed. He shook. It was as if every muscle in his body was getting conflicting instructions about where to move. He s.h.i.+vered. His voice was a hoa.r.s.e whisper.'I... can't... work... it... out!'

The door to the galley opened as the Doctor fell silent. Conaway turned. She saw a tall man, horribly scarred, whose skin seemed to move of its own accord in subtle fas.h.i.+on. His voice, when he spoke, was the sound of all her fears and all her hopes.

'I am told the Doctor is here. I'm looking for him. It's about Sam.'

The Doctor turned. His face was a portrait of despair. 'Oh no. Is she... ?'

'No. She is alive.'

The Doctor released a breath he did not even realise he was holding.'But she's in trouble, though?'

'She is Endless.'

'That sounds like trouble enough.'

Conaway looked from one man to the other. 'Doctor, you don't have time for this! You're supposed to be helping here!'

The Doctor snapped,'Ican't help here!' He looked back at the newcomer.'Mr...?'

'Father. Eldred Saketh.'

'Father Saketh. Tell me everything you can about Sam.'

The story unfolded slowly, deliberately, a parable related to the accompaniment of bright flashes of death outside the corvette vision ports. Every so often the s.h.i.+p itself would shake, battered by a debris flung clear from a nearby detonation.

Saketh's voice meshed with the rumble of engines, the atonal boom and dash of machinery, the thud and screech of straining hull.

The Doctor found himself drawn into the story. He lived the pain, the hopes and fear, the glorious madness that was his new friend. Oh, Sam. All you ever wanted to be was a grown-up.

Eventually there were no more words. Saketh fell silent.

The Doctor considered.'You are immortal.'

It wasn't a question. Saketh felt no need to answer. Instead he offered a deal. 'You cannot get to your gravity stabilisers because you will be killed if you do. I cannot be killed. Tell me how to reprogram them and I will place them back in orbit around the planets where they belong. While I am doing this you can find Sam. You can help her. She needs you, Doctor. Needs you very badly.'

Conaway stared wildly from one man to the other. 'You're not thinking of doing as he says?'

'”The only choice you have is to save lives. Save as many lives as you can. If it's all you can do then at least do that.” ' The Doctor's voice was cold - almost as cold as Conaway's face as she listened to her own words quoted back to her. 'What other choice do I have?'

It was her time. Sam's time. The time of forever.

War was over. Violence at an end.

With eternity came peace.

By the time the Doctor arrived almost three-quarters of the population could not die.

He found her on a long stretch of beach, a tiny island in an ocean of humanity. Acolytes, wors.h.i.+ppers - the laity of her new faith. She sat on a wooden chair beneath a cane shelter and surveyed everything that was hers, everything she had built. On a small table in front of her was a platter, its contents covered by a silver dome.

The people were all sitting. They were absolutely silent. Though there were many thousands of them, the Doctor had to strain to catch even the faintest breath, the slightest movement above the lapping of waves and the distant, indignant squeal of a lone gull. He worked his way slowly through the outskirts of the crowd. Heads turned towards him. They knew he was an outsider. Sensed it somehow. No one moved to stop him as he approached the shelter. But he felt thousands of pairs of eyes turn upon him with more than mere interest.

He picked a way through the crowd, stepping over children and seated adults, hopping between tiny patches of clear ground as if they were stepping stones in a river turned to a sheet of ice by winter. In this manner he proceeded and, after a time, he reached the cane shelter. He stood in the relatively narrow band of clear ground before her and waited. She did not speak, though her eyes, had followed his every movement as he had approached.

'Sam,' he said after a silence that was merely uncomfortable had stretched to unbearable length.'Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam. It's me.'

She looked at him for a long moment before recognition dawned.'Doctor.' She smiled.'I'm so pleased to see you.'

'And I you, Sam. More than you can know.'

Another long pause. Sam surveyed the crowd. They were utterly silent, tiny breaths from the newly converted gradually becoming more sporadic.

The Doctor felt the collective gaze of the laity strike him between the shoulder blades and the weight was all but overwhelming.

His skin crawled.

He waited.

An hour pa.s.sed.

Sam returned her gaze to him.

He waited.

She beckoned him forward.

He moved slowly towards the cane shelter.

'Sit.'

He sank cross-legged into the lotus position.

'I'd offer you tea. I don't have any.'

'What's under the dish?'

'You'd laugh.'

The Doctor ventured a smile.'Actually I'm not that thirsty.'

'Why are you here?' There was an odd, almost disjointed quality to Sam's words.