Doctor Who - Downtime Part 27

Danny shrugged. 'Just do. The link was reversed. The icon that the Intelligence used now binds the Intelligence. The Intelligence has become the p.a.w.n.'

Outside, the note of the engine began to grind upwards.

Deep in thought, the Brigadier said, 'Cavendish asked me about keepsakes...And when I think, there was something.'

Danny turned sharply towards him. 'Yes?'

His tutor shook his head. 'No, I lost that years ago.'

'Like what?' said Kate.

'It was when you said "p.a.w.n", I suddenly remembered. A little carving of a Yeti, like a chesspiece. Tibetan, I think.'

'Dad.' Kate stood up, suddenly very afraid.

He watched her open the metal chest and rummage through the toys inside. From the bottom she produced a grubby figure carved in ivory. 'Like this?' she asked and held it out to him.

He took it and studied the object. It was almost comical. A bulbous, ethnic representation of a furry creature bearing little resemblance to the ma.s.sive horrors that had stalked London so long ago.

'Yes, that's it.'

The boat gave a sudden lurch.

'But I've had that thing since I was a kid,' insisted Kate.

The Brigadier steadied himself as the boat appeared to turn.

'It's infinitely dangerous. We have to get rid of it now.'

25.

Taking the Knight's p.a.w.n arrods watched a heron that was flying along the ca.n.a.l in Hthe Mananda Mananda's wake. It seemed like a good omen, but then he had just polished off a beer and the last of the sandwiches that the young lady had given him. Suddenly everything seemed a lot better. He reckoned they had put trouble behind them for a bit. Perhaps the Brigadier could find him a situation of sorts. He wasn't going back to the New World if he could help it, except maybe to collect his things.

Then he might travel a bit for the summer. He could do Ascot, Wimbledon or Henley Regatta. The sorts of place where you got a better cla.s.s of rubbish.

He'd find a nice new shack too. A holiday shack. Or he'd get a narrow boat. He'd only just discovered boats and they were easy. But they'd never beat flying, never beat wings.

Nothing beat the view from the c.o.c.kpit of a Hercules. That's what he really wanted back. But the bird-boy was his best bit of luck since a delivery lorry had taken a corner too fast and he'd dined out of tins of spaghetti hoops for three weeks.

Danny knew what was what. Best stick with Danny and he might get some too. He watched the heron as it followed them on great lazy wings.

The tiller arm jerked and nearly had him over the side. It pulled at him, suddenly getting a life of its own. He guessed something was jammed on the rudder and struggled to work it free.

The tiller jerked again and hit him full in the chest. The narrow boat was starting to turn in towards the bank. Harrods pushed his whole weight at the arm trying to keep the course steady. As he puffed for breath he saw, further along the bank, a group of Chillys staring out across the water.

'Sir, sir,' he muttered to himself.

He could feel the pull of their collective thoughts. The bleeders were pulling the boat towards them just by sheer b.l.o.o.d.y-minded willpower. They weren't having him. Not old Harrods. Not b.l.o.o.d.y likely. He put all his weight against the tiller, but he could hear the engine revving up too. They were having a go at that as well.

One of the Chillys, who seemed to be the leader, was holding something towards the boat. It gleamed metallically in his hands.

The Mananda Mananda was going faster and faster. It hit the bank with a crash of mud and timber. Harrods practically fell into the cabin. was going faster and faster. It hit the bank with a crash of mud and timber. Harrods practically fell into the cabin.

'Sir. We have company, sir!'

The others were still picking themselves up off the floor.

Overhead they heard the thump of boots on the roof. The Mananda Mananda was being boarded. Faces were appearing in the windows. Faces in yellow peaked caps, hanging over from above, staring hungrily in at them. was being boarded. Faces were appearing in the windows. Faces in yellow peaked caps, hanging over from above, staring hungrily in at them.

Kate panicked. 'Get them away! Get them off here!'

'Everyone out now!' shouted the Brigadier. He turned for the door and found Danny blocking his exit. The boy reached for the little chesspiece.

'I'm sorry, Brigadier,' he said. He had a green pallor and looked feverish.

'Out of my way, Hinton.'

The boy was shaking his head apologetically. 'I didn't know. I swear it.' He was staring at the heads in the windows, drawing on their power. The energy in the room was almost tangible. It made Danny look huge.

Harrods grabbed at him. 'What are you on about?'

With one flick of his arm, the boy sent the old tramp tumbling backwards onto the kitchen floor. His eyes never left the Brigadier. His hand was covered in web. It was reaching out like a claw. 'I warned you, didn't I? Don't trust anyone!

The Intelligence used me to seek you out. It's taking new forms now. I'm the trap!'

The Brigadier reached into his jacket. 'I'm warning you, Hinton. Stand back!'

'Give me the Locus!' yelled the boy. He lunged for the piece as the Brigadier pulled out his Browning.

'No!' Kate was shouting. 'No guns! Not in here!'

All around the windows, the Chillys turned their heads to stare at the cabin entrance.

The Brigadier heard a sound that filled him with dread. A high-pitched repeating blip. 'Get back!' he shouted as a silver sphere, the size of a croquet ball, rolled into the doorway and stopped at the top of the steps. It rocked a little in its place as if surveying its victims.

Instinctively everyone pulled back. Only Danny remained, pushed frozen against the wall, a look of abject terror on his face. The sphere dropped casually down the steps. It rolled towards him.

It leapt.

Danny's hands closed over the sphere as it plunged into his chest. There was a crack of breaking bones. He stumbled forward choking, a hole torn in the front of his sweatshirt.

There was no blood. The sphere had been cleanly absorbed.

No one dared move. They could still hear the bleeping. The cabin was alive with energy. As they watched, the shape of Danny Hinton began to grow. Little storms of electricity played over his expanding, darkening body. He yelled and the yell coa.r.s.ened into an animal snarl, then a roar revealing ma.s.sive yellow incisor fangs. His clothes tore and burst out in eruptions of red-brown fur. His head filled out to take in the ma.s.sive shoulders. His new form reached to the ceiling.

Driven by the dark thoughts embodied in the sphere, Daniel Hinton, School House '91, became a Yeti.

The Brigadier raised the gun to shoot, but one swipe from a flailing claw knocked the weapon from his grip. Harrods, scuttling clear, was knocked flying.

In the crammed melee, the Brigadier saw the chesspiece rolling on the bed. He saw Kate make a dive for the object.

She gasped as the p.a.w.n leapt out of her fingers and into the Yeti's outstretched claw. The monster bellowed in deafening triumph, turned and forced its way out of the splintering cabin door.

The group of Chillys formed a corridor on the bank as the Yeti strode off the boat clutching its prize.

The Brigadier scrambled up from the cabin and watched from the deck as they marched away. He hefted his gun in his hand. He had been a fool, and an old fool too. No wonder they'd retired him early. And now he had brought all this on the one person he had forgotten that he loved. There was no one to trust, not even himself, it seemed. But he had to put things right and avenge the boy's death.

As he ducked inside the broken door, he heard Kate saying, 'This is my home! What's happening?'

She was sitting on the bed, too shocked to cry, and Harrods was crouching by her, trying to console her. When he saw the senior officer, he stood, but not to attention.

'They've got what they want. Now they're going,' the Brigadier said grimly.

Harrods edged a look out of the window. 'Back to New World, sir. That's where it all comes from.'

Kate stared at the floor. 'What sort of job do do you do! That boy was...' She faltered, unable even to explain what she had seen. you do! That boy was...' She faltered, unable even to explain what she had seen.

The Brigadier knelt beside her. 'I have to go after them, Kate. I'll explain later.'

'Just go then,' she snapped.

Lethbridge-Stewart looked up at Harrods. 'Flight Sergeant?'

The little man nodded. 'I'll come, sir. For the lad's sake.'

'Good man. Just wait outside for me.'

'Sir.'

The Brigadier waited for Harrods to clear the cabin. Then he turned back to his daughter. He thought this might be the most difficult moment of his life. He sat on the bed beside her.

'Kate,' he said as gently as he could muster.

'What?' She didn't want to look at him.

He paused and then said, 'Just tell me one thing. Why do you have a box of toys down there?'

She sighed. Then she reached for a drawer by the bed.

There was a pile of loose photographs inside. She lifted one out and pa.s.sed it to her father.

'He'll be five next week,' she said flatly.

He laid down his gun and took in the picture slowly. He wasn't sure what he had hoped for or expected. It showed a small boy with sandy hair who grinned cheekily out at him. He looked a little terror.

The Brigadier worked to find the words, but all he could say was, 'I have a grandson? My My grandson. I never dreamt... grandson. I never dreamt...

Good Lord.'

There was so much he wanted to say. He thought his heart would brim over with excitement and pride.

'Gordon,' said Kate. 'After you. Gordon James. He's safe, away from here.' Tears were getting the worse of her. 'I'm sorry, Dad, I couldn't tell you.'

He was squeezing her hand. 'I have a grandson.' Something in his eye and something catching in his throat, yet he was glowing with the joy of it. Poor Kate. She had kept this from him for so long. Was she so angry or was he so terrifying?

'Kate, can I keep this?'

She nodded tightly.

He squeezed her hand again. 'Thank you, Kate. It's getting late. We'll talk later. I'll be back.'

He stood, still clutching the photograph of Gordon James Lethbridge-Stewart, and left the boat, closing the door as best he could.

26.

Truth is Relative ictoria's mind was spinning so that she could not sleep.

VShe dreamed even when she was awake now, unable to cradle herself in her own chosen thoughts. Wakefulness and sleeping vied with each other to be the more nightmarish. The two states melded into an impressionistic haze.

Professor Travers, if indeed it was Travers, sat in her chair, behind her desk. It was what she had wanted, but far from what she expected. Her long-awaited tutor was ancient and unkempt. He was slumped like a puppet tied up with spider strings. This Travers had promised the Light of Truth, but his gift revealed things she did not want to see. She no longer knew light from shade, truth from fantasy. She dreamed horrors but suppose she was lying to herself?

Was this light also the cold light of day, or the lux aeterna lux aeterna of heavenly compa.s.sion? Might it not be the of heavenly compa.s.sion? Might it not be the ignis fatuus ignis fatuus that leads travellers from the path? that leads travellers from the path?

Which one? she thought. Which light is true?