Doctor Who_ Father Time Part 31

'I'm sorry, My Lord,' he said. 'We should have killed the Doctor when we had the chance.'

The loss of the Tower was Sallak's fault, of course. As was keeping the Doctor alive so that Sallak could tell him his daughter was dead. No wonder the Doctor had survived so long with enemies so vainglorious.

'We still have that chance,' Ferran said. 'The death of the Last One is still our destiny. I've searched the Archive, and beyond this year there was absolutely no record of her.'

'The Archive is incomplete,' Sallak reminded him. 'An absence of evidence proves very little.'

'He's broken your spirit,' Ferran snapped. 'The Doctor is our arch enemy. He has been since the genesis of our race. We knew that. But if we kill his daughter, we will inflict the greatest defeat he has ever suffered. Think about that.'

The Deputy looked chastened. 'You are right, of course, My Lord.'

Ferran wished he could be so certain.

The laboratory was three doors down a narrow corridor. Debbie was a little disappointed by it: it was light and airy, not the Frankenstein's lab she had been expecting.

The Doctor was in his shirtsleeves and bent over the time detector. 'There,' he said. 'That burst there is the equipment in the Tower going up. We've trapped Ferran here.'

Debbie wasn't really listening. She'd picked up a little gla.s.s jar full of tiny white nuggets. The label read MILK T TEETH.

'You've collected Miranda's teeth?'

The Doctor nodded. 'A useful source of data. I've got to be careful, of course: I don't have the proper equipment for a.n.a.lysis here, and the big labs would be more than a little interested in how I got hold of extraterrestrial biological samples.'

Debbie shivered, but decided not to say anything.

The Doctor had lost the signal, and couldn't find it, however busily he twisted dials and flicked switches.

'There's been no more time-travel activity?' Debbie asked.

'There was the original source, which must have been Ferran arriving,' the Doctor said, pointing it out. 'Then two more trips: the guards and equipment arriving at the Tower, I imagine. Nothing since then, not even radio signals. So Ferran is trapped here with us.'

Debbie took a deep breath. 'Or vice versa,' she pointed out. 'We need to call the police.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'The last battle was fought on his territory. Now, he's got to come here. I'm ready for him.'

Miranda sat in the park. It was the first time she could remember going there on her own. Dinah, Alex and Bob were nowhere to be seen.

She felt like crying. She wasn't crying, but Dinah and Bob had betrayed her, her father was acting strangely, and having another woman in the house even someone as lovely as Mrs Castle was affecting her, changing the subtle territoriality of her home.

There was a line in an Eliot poem, about a man who wouldn't change his routine because he dare not disturb the universe. That was what had happened to Miranda: her world, which had all seemed so cosy and stable just a couple a days ago, had now lurched into uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory.

She had no feelings for Bob she never had had, and what relationship they'd had had fizzled out after their kiss. Dinah and Bob were free to do what they wanted, by any of the rules of engagement she'd read about in Dinah's women's magazines. Miranda now knew that she would have regretted it if her plan to sleep with Bob had worked out.

But she was still angry.

A shadow fell over her.

She looked up.

'Ferdy?'

He smiled down at her. 'I'm glad I've caught up with you,' he said. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. 'You look upset.'

Miranda nodded.

'How about you come with me?'

'The bell goes in five minutes I'll have to get back.'

The young man smiled. 'Come on, be a rebel,' he said, 'for once in your life.'

Chapter Nineteen.

Date with Death Debbie had convinced the Doctor that they had to tell the police.

'We have to be careful what we tell them,' she said as the Trabant arrived at the police station.

'We shouldn't tell them anything at all,' the Doctor grumbled. Debbie thought he was going to sulk, but instead he considered the situation. 'We tell them about Sallak, we tell them that we're worried that he's got accomplices. That Miranda is at risk.'

'They will be looking for you,' the Doctor said.

It hadn't occurred to Debbie, but of course he was right: Barry was dead, she was missing from her home and job. She shook herself she'd not even thought thought about her job. What would her cla.s.s think about their teacher missing on Friday and today? about her job. What would her cla.s.s think about their teacher missing on Friday and today?

Greyfrith seemed like another world. It seemed so far away, so irrelevant. Without realising it, she'd decided she wouldn't be going back there. What she'd do instead, she wasn't sure.

She glanced over at the Doctor.

Ferran watched the Last One from across the table.

'I don't usually come to pubs,' she told him. Her mastery of the human language was impressive, he thought, although her species had always had a gift for translation. As he thought that, he remembered that she had come to Earth as an infant. English was her first language. He wondered if the Doctor had taught her the language of their own people.

She was smiling. She was an attractive woman, Ferran could admit that. From the outside, she was a young woman with a fine figure and a nice smile. But that had always been the way of her family: they looked like ordinary people, but inside that chest beat two hearts, and the blood in her veins wasn't really blood: the genetic material twisted and writhed and re-formed the whole time. There were legends on many worlds of creatures who wore human form, but who were really demons, shapeshifters. That is what this 'woman' in front of him was.

She must die, and now.

'What would you like to drink?' he asked.

'Er... Pernod and black?' she said, asking him, rather than deciding for herself. She was weak. Where was the fire in her blood that had made her family rulers of the universe?

Ferran nodded, and went to order the drink. He walked up to the bar, tried to accost the serving maid, but the more obvious he made his impatience, the more the girl seemed to ignore him.

'Fetch your master!' he demanded.

The woman glared at him. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Not granted,' Ferran told her. 'Fetch your master.'

She called out, 'Vic.' This human was fat, jolty.

'Can I help you, sir?'

'Yes. A Pernod, a black, a lager. And I want to see this wench punished.'

Vic laughed. 'Pernod and black and a lager. A pint?'

'A pint of each,' Ferran confirmed. The innkeeper chuckled again. 'Is that your lady?' he asked, indicating the Last One with a nudge of his head.

Ferran's stomach lurched at the idea. 'No,' he said.

'Your sister?' he asked.

Ferran glared at him. 'I want your wench punished.'

The barman looked at him. 'Now, that joke was funny the first time, but I don't think it's funny now.' He placed the two drinks down. Ferran threw him a fifty-pound note, and while the man checked it such insolence! Ferran slipped a capsule from his pocket. A nanotoxin, tailored to the Last One's species. Death would be instantaneous. He dropped it into the drink. Ferran watched, quietly fascinated as it dissolved.

The wench coughed. Ferran looked up, about to reprimand her for her poor hygiene. She had a collection of notes and coins in her hand.

'Your change,' she explained.

'How dare you!' Ferran snapped.

The barman was heading back over. 'That's it, young man' He opened up the till, pulled out the fifty-pound note. 'Get out!'

Ferran glared at him.

The barmaid delighted in s.n.a.t.c.hing the drinks back off the bar, and pouring them away.

The Last One was behind him. 'Is everything all right?'

'Get out, the pair of you.'

She grabbed Ferran's arm.

He recoiled, instinctively.

She pulled away. 'I'm sorry,' she said, hurrying off.

'Wait!' Ferran called, running after her.

The Last One hesitated at the doorway, then stepped out.

Ferran followed her into the street. 'I apologise,' he said, the words coming more easily than he'd thought possible. 'I was tense. I meant no offence.'

She smiled. 'You're forgiven. Where should we go now?'

Ferran stayed silent.

'All alone,' she said, smiling. 'I think this is the first time we've been alone together.'

'It is,' he a.s.sured her.

'Someone always seems to interrupt,' she continued.

'I had noticed that, too,' he admitted.

Ferran toyed with the idea of killing her here: the knife was in his coat pocket. A group of office workers bustled past, ending that idea there and then. The road was busy, there would be a lot of witnesses, and Ferran knew he wasn't sure of his escape routes. He needed to get her alone. He led her to the side of the building. It was early afternoon. The car park was virtually empty of cars, and there weren't any people.

'Not that way.' She laughed and skipped out into the road.

He could feel the knife weighing down his jacket pocket. He slipped his hand down, so casually she didn't even register it.

He looked over at her, thinking how she was oblivious to her fate, oblivious to the danger she was in.

There was a car.

She was perched on the kerb, but she lost her footing.

Her eyes went wide as she began slipping back.

The car sounded its horn, started skidding to a halt.

It was going to hit her.

Ferran leapt forward, grabbed her arm, pulled her upright.

She hugged him, out of breath. He could feel her chest heaving on his, her breath on his neck.

'You saved my life,' Miranda said. She leaned in. Her eyes peered into him. It was one of her kind's tricks. She was inside his mind, she knew him.

'What's the matter?' she asked.

Ferran hesitated. She didn't know. He blinked, sighed a little in relief.

Miranda slumped back, exasperated. 'What?' she asked, irritated.

He stared at her.