Doctor Who_ So Vile A Sin Part 15

The Doctor looked up at her over the panel he was fiddling with. 'This isn't an oversized version of my TARDIS,' he told her. 'It was meant to be this large. It carried the bow-ships.'

'The what?'

'During the war between the Time Lords and the Great Vampires.'

'Great Vampires, uh-huh,' said Iaomnet.

'The war that the N-forms were built to fight,' said Roz.

'Yes. This TARDIS is wondering where everyone's gone.

After it was damaged and its crew killed, it was captured by Agamemnon's gravity and has been following its erratic orbit ever since. Sending out an equally erratic call for help in a tight beam. The beam is probably supposed to be aimed at a particular base or planet or what-have-you, but Ca.s.sandra's wandering orbit means the beam is constantly twisting and turning all over the heavens. When that beam pa.s.ses within range of a surviving 118 N-form, that N-form automatically switches to full combat mode.'

'Hence the one I squashed on Fury. Without, I might add, having to destroy an entire city to do it.'

The Doctor gave her a look. Iaomnet was watching them both, fascinated. She was just soaking all of this up, believing every word.

'The beam is twisting through time as well as s.p.a.ce. At some stage, it must have pa.s.sed through 1987.' He patted the console, soothingly. 'I think the poor old thing was desperate for some attention.'

'Can you stop the beam?' said Roz.

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'Iaomnet, could you press that red switch? Just under the yellow dial?'

Iaomnet reached for the switch. 'Are you sure it's OK?'

'I'm sure,' he said.

Iaomnet threw the switch.

'That's the beam taken care of. Along with a few other things,'

said the Doctor. 'Suit up, it's time to leave.'

'You mean that's it?' said Iaomnet.

'No,' said the Doctor. 'That will be it in forty-seven minutes and twelve seconds.'

'Oh s.h.i.t,' said Roz, pulling on her helmet.

It didn't take as long to reach the surface as it had to find the console room, mostly because the Doctor wasn't flipping coins this time. The lift to the surface was still working, thank G.o.ddess Roz had been having visions of having to make their way up the shaft without climbing equipment.

'Look,' said Iaomnet, pointing back towards the Wilfred Owen Wilfred Owen.

It took Roz a moment to pick the figures out of the background six of them, walking in combat suits and HE armour across the shattered walls of the crater.

Roz looked up. The Victoria Victoria was a heavy shape high overhead. was a heavy shape high overhead.

'Sekeris must have told them everything. Dutiful lad that he is.'

'It doesn't matter,' said the Doctor. 'h.e.l.lo!' he called, switching his radio from near near to to distant distant. 'Can you hear us?'

119.

'I'm Lieutenant Kidjo.' One of the suited figures waved. 'Put down any weapons you're carrying and prepare to be taken into custody.'

'No problem,' said the Doctor, 'but you might like to skip the formalities. If I recall correctly, it takes over fifteen minutes to get through the initial arrest.'

'It's a statutory requirement,' said Kidjo. 'You know how it is.'

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'It's just that the planet's going to blow up in fourteen minutes.'

120.

4.

The Victoria Victoria Signals traffic on the back of his eyelid.

DOGFIST.

CLAREMONT rend rend VICTORIA VICTORIA PETA: 4hr. Offload/Onload Offload/Onload ref27681 ref27681 Confirm: yes/no yes/no Routine, just routine. The fleet supply lighter Claremont Claremont giving the regulation giving the regulation Don't shoot, I'm on your side Don't shoot, I'm on your side to the to the Victoria Victoria before burning to match velocity. Cautious, but you didn't blindside an Empress-cla.s.s supercarrier not if you wanted to live long after. before burning to match velocity. Cautious, but you didn't blindside an Empress-cla.s.s supercarrier not if you wanted to live long after.

Down in the TacPlan they'd still be tracking the Claremont Claremont as she approached, weapons comp spewing out constantly changing interception options. This fighter on that course, this ordnance on that setting. It was standard doctrine, every blip a bogie until proved otherwise. Kept the officers and the techs sharp for when they needed sharp. Besides, you never knew. as she approached, weapons comp spewing out constantly changing interception options. This fighter on that course, this ordnance on that setting. It was standard doctrine, every blip a bogie until proved otherwise. Kept the officers and the techs sharp for when they needed sharp. Besides, you never knew.

Captain Sokolovsky blinked to clear the message and shut down the biode in his left eye. His executive officer would be handling the run-up to docking, issuing the necessary commands to the Claremont Claremont to bring it safely alongside. While all the time, the battle comps ticked over in the background dreaming up their kill options and target plans. And TacScan would still be checking, at least four out of the thirty scan 121 to bring it safely alongside. While all the time, the battle comps ticked over in the background dreaming up their kill options and target plans. And TacScan would still be checking, at least four out of the thirty scan 121 stations would be putting the Claremont Claremont on the Petri dish, looking for anything out of place, just in case. on the Petri dish, looking for anything out of place, just in case.

Because you never knew.

And it was all too late. The Victoria Victoria was doomed, because its captain had decided it would be so. Because it doesn't matter a d.a.m.n how good your technology is, or the ratings of your shields or engines. Because a fighting ship was doomed, because its captain had decided it would be so. Because it doesn't matter a d.a.m.n how good your technology is, or the ratings of your shields or engines. Because a fighting ship was was its crew and captain. And if it was betrayed... its crew and captain. And if it was betrayed...

G.o.ddess, it was an evil thing he was doing.

Sokolovsky was tall and muscular, straight-spined, beppled to look like an albino. He'd kept the white hair and pink eyes for almost a decade; it had been a prank pulled by some of his fellow officers on the night of his wedding, but the next day, in the field, it had terrified a Caxtarid merc so badly he'd got the drop on her.

He remembered the year of the disaster: 2975, when half the Earth went mad. Watching the news reports in his cabin every off-shift, watching as the random murders increased and increased and the rioting and chaos swelled and the floating buildings began to fall. He had thought he was watching the end of the world.

And he was happy that this world was ending. He kept it from the crew, who watched the news screens in their cabins and wept for their family and friends back home, or who watched in the relaxation lounge, holding someone else's hand or just gripping the arms of the plastic chairs.

Riding the reports of the killings came the reports of corruption. Corruption in the Order of Adjudicators. Corruption in the Imperial Landsknechte. No one was immune as the revelations blossomed outward, to touch the Imperial Bureaucracy, the fourth estate, even the Imperial s.p.a.ce Navy.

Somehow, for some reason, he'd been convinced that the ISN was immune. When the Navy courts martial had begun, Sokolovsky had known they were doomed.

But it didn't go far enough. The Empire didn't fall. Not all the way, although it fell a long way down. In the year of the disaster, they'd been given a sudden glance into the heart of the corrupt Empire, like biting right into the centre of the infected apple.

There had been a chance to start again, to purify every last part of 122 the Empire's machinery. But the cleaning up had never been finished.

The Empire no longer serves the interests of humanity, Sokolovsky told himself. It was almost a catchphrase in the resistance.

It was cold on the number-two forward launch deck, cold enough to frost his breath. But it was always cold on a launch deck, with nothing but a single bulkhead between you and the big zero.

He blinked, time ticking down in the corner of his eye. Three hours, fifty-eight minutes.

Capture, escape, capture, escape.

Chris opened his eyes. He sat up. Where the h.e.l.l was he?

The crew of the Victoria Victoria hadn't been taking any chances. hadn't been taking any chances.

While the medics took the Doctor away to the sickbay, an armed escort had marched the rest of the Hopper's crew to the brig. It was a comfortable, large room, with some isolated entertainment computers and a food machine.

This wasn't it. They'd put him somewhere else while he was sleeping. Had they drugged him? He didn't feel drugged.

He looked around. The room was small, with a high ceiling, out of reach. He couldn't work out where the light was coming from out of the walls?

He pressed a hand to the wall. The stuff was plastic? metal?

not exactly hot, not exactly cold. He ran his hand along it.

Seamless, one wall curving into another, forming a narrow six-sided shape.

No seams at all. He couldn't find the door. Nothing in the ceiling, either, not even a securicam. How'd they put him in here? Was it some kind of container? Where the h.e.l.l was he?

'Hey!' he shouted, hammering on the wall. His voice and the sound of his fist echoed back at him, m.u.f.fled. 'Hey! What is this?' No answer. They couldn't even hear him. 'Let me out of here!'

Chris opened his eyes. He sat up, knocking his head on the wall of the brig.

123.

The Ogrons looked up at him from across the room. He blinked, rubbing the back of his head. Martinique was curled on the opposite bunk, looking ill.

'OK?' grunted Sister's Son.

He nodded at the Ogron. 'Anything happening?'

'Eating compet.i.tion,' said Son of My Father indistinctly. Chris realized the Ogrons were sitting cross-legged in front of the food machine, each one with a pile of banana skins stacked up next to him.

Chris laughed out loud. The nightmare feeling already draining away. 'Have they said anything about the Doctor?'

'No. n.o.body has been here,' said Son of My Father. 'What would they tell Ogrons, anyway?'

'Good point.' Chris frowned. 'We'd better work out a way to get out of here.'

'But Chris,' said Sister's Son, 'there are only three of us, and many soldiers on the ship. If we do get out, where will we go?'

'First rule of crisis, according to the Doctor,' said Chris. 'Panic about one thing at a time.'

Sokolovsky's communicator chimed. 'Yes, Lieutenant?'

'The prisoner who was taken to sickbay has recovered, sir,'

said Emerson. 'He wants to talk to you, sir.'

Sokolovsky was striding through the Victoria Victoria's corridors. The time was ticking in the corner of his eye, a constant flicker of hot red figures. 'He'll have to wait,' he said.

'Er, he's very insistent, sir.'

'He's a civilian, Lieutenant.'

'Yes, sir. He's a very insistent civilian. An exceptionally insistent civilian, sir.'

Sokolovsky couldn't help smiling. 'All right, then, Emerson.

Have him brought to the bridge. I'll sort him out.'

'Er, sir? He's already on the bridge.'

'What?'

'He seems to have persuaded security it was in the ship's best interests. I'm there now, sir, keeping an eye on him.'

'I'll be there in thirty seconds.'

124.

The man was indeed on the bridge. All over it like a rash, flitting from station to station, peeking over the shoulders of the Ops.

Sokolovsky sank into the command chair and watched the little man pace. The captain's station was almost at the back of the bridge, on the left side, giving him a view of every part of the sloping, wedge-shaped room. He could call up any station's displays on his own screen. Theoretically, he could fly the ship himself, with the help of the computer.

It took the Doctor almost a minute to realize he was there. The civilian fixed him with an intense gaze and walked up the gentle slope of the bridge to his station.

'Captain Sokolovsky,' he said. 'It's vital that you allow me to take a shuttle down to the surface of Ca.s.sandra.'

'Why?' said Sokolovsky.

The Doctor glanced back at the screen, where Agamemnon's outermost planet was a fat white disk. 'It's a matter of extreme importance,' he said. 'I wish I could tell you more, but I can't.'

He turned back. 'All I can do is try to persuade you to let me land. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the course of history depends on your a.s.sent.'

Sokolovsky was surprised at how believable the little man's speech was. He had half a mind to have one of the shuttles readied, if only to see what the Doctor was going to do down there.

'Captain,' said ShipOps, 'the Claremont Claremont has begun docking.' has begun docking.'

Sorry, Doctor, I don't have time to find out what you're all about. 'Thank you, Ensign. Doctor, we'll have to continue this later. Emerson, could you take our guest down to his friends?'

'Yes, sir. This way, Doctor.'

'Sir,' said someone, 'the Wilfred Owen Wilfred Owen has just lifted off. has just lifted off.

Lieutenant Kidjo wants to speak with you urgently.'