Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles Part 25

The Doctor had run out of paper. By the time he had found some and got back to his writing desk, he'd forgotten how he was planning to finish the sentence. He sighed.

Rachel woke up, and spent the first few seconds surprised she'd fallen asleep.

She checked her watch. No wonder she felt tired, it was the middle of the night. It was cold in the garage and she was stiff. She'd been woken by shouts and calls from outside. Lots of 'What the h.e.l.l?' kind of things, and police radios squawking.

Marnal was standing, head c.o.c.ked to one side, like he was trying to a.s.sess the situation.

'Something's happening out there,' she concluded.

Marnal looked worried. 'They're getting ready to storm the place.'

Rachel moved to find the towel.

'I don't think that's it,' he said, after another minute.

There was the sound of a car starting, then driving off. A minute later a few other vehicles had gone, including a big one one of the vans, or the ambulance.

'Some of them are leaving,' Rachel said.

'It could be a trick.'

'Did you fire that gun at them and make them homesick?'

'No. Why would a police unit leave the scene of an armed siege?'

'They wouldn't. At least not on TV they wouldn't. We're in London, there are other policemen to deal with another incident coming up.'

145.

Marnal raised his gun and checked it.

'There could have been a terrorist attack,' she suggested.

'At two thirty in the morning?'

'Why not? Maybe not an attack, but a warning, or a tip-off.'

'You can feel it too, can't you?'

Dread. Unease tugging at the primeval parts of her, the oldest areas of the brain. Was this how animals felt when they sensed a hurricane or a forest fire coming? She tried to a.n.a.lyse it. It was only through thinking hard that she realised something had gone fundamentally wrong with the light.

The Doctor hadn't been able to prevent the destruction of Gallifrey; that had happened. All the Time Lords were dead, their home planet had gone. That was a fact and it couldn't be undone.

Despite that, he had saved the day, s.n.a.t.c.hed victory from the jaws of defeat.

He'd done it from inside the Edifice, with seconds to spare. And the little man he'd seen while meditating had given him some clues, he was sure of it.

The Doctor started writing: The new arrival ran her fingers along the dusty console. 'The Edifice was your TARDIS all along, then?' TARDIS all along, then?'

The Doctor waved his hand. 'Yes. Get to station one, and boot up the library computer. I'm sure I'm forgetting something very important.' computer. I'm sure I'm forgetting something very important.'

'Forty seconds.'

The Doctor snapped his fingers. 'Ace remembered going to Paradise Towers,' he said triumphantly. said triumphantly.

'Pardon?'

The Doctor was wiping spores and mould from another panel on the console.

'Yes, here.'

'The telepathic circuits? I've got the library computer working, by the way.'

'Good. These are still functioning Once, I was editing out some of my memories using the telepathic circuits, when I ' using the telepathic circuits, when I '

'Why?'

'I forget.'

'Har har. Thirty seconds. You were clearing some s.p.a.ce, like defragging a hard drive.' drive.'

'I suppose I must have been. It can get very cluttered up there. Anyway, a long time ago now, gosh, just before I faced the Timewyrm, I accidentally gave Ace one time ago now, gosh, just before I faced the Timewyrm, I accidentally gave Ace one of Mel's memories.' of Mel's memories.'

'And now you're. . . editing out your memories again. Can't this wait?'

'Er. . . no. Where's Fitz, by the way?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Doctor.'

He joined her in front of the library computer.

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'You're hacking into the Capitol's computer systems,' she noted. The Doctor looked up. 'Obviously I need the pa.s.sword. You don't happen to know Romana's looked up. 'Obviously I need the pa.s.sword. You don't happen to know Romana's birthday or her mother's maiden name, do you?' birthday or her mother's maiden name, do you?'

She shoved him aside. 'Here, let me. I can uplink directly.'

'I've got a plan,' the Doctor told her. 'We need twelve seconds, give or take.'

'We have eleven. Ten, nine, eight. . . '

The Doctor read this back to himself. His companions weren't ever that caustic, but overall it seemed a plausible account.

So, he'd done something fiendishly clever to delete his memories. That answered one question. He'd lost his memories because he himself had deliberately erased them. He instinctively knew this was what had happened.

Then again. . . hadn't he just said to Marnal that why he lost his memories wasn't that important a question?

He tried to remember but, again, there was that sense of dread, as he knew there would be. Fear flapping its wings, warning him to keep away. Just an instinct that there were some things he wasn't meant to remember. He'd said as much before he did the deed, sitting in the Edifice, waiting to die.

'It makes no sense,' the Doctor said, to no one in particular. 'I saw Gallifrey destroyed.'

He hesitated. That way, it sounded like a denial.

'I saw myself destroying Gallifrey,' he rephrased. Then a third attempt: 'I destroyed Gallifrey. I was solely responsible. The Doctor, in the Edifice, with the binding energy.'

The fear wasn't there any more.

It just came and went, it always had. Ever since he'd woken up on the carriage, well over a hundred years ago now. He had learnt not to think back, because it only scared him. But he knew what he had done now. It wasn't quite remembering, but it was as near as he was ever going to get. If he'd been blocking it out, for fear of having some sort of a breakdown. . . well, that block had gone and he felt fine. Not fine, obviously, but. . .

'My choice,' he said, 'I pulled the lever. How many times do I have to say that I don't feel guilty? I did what I had to do. If I had my time again I wouldn't change my decision. The alternative was worse.'

Had he done something even more horrible? Ockham's razor suggested otherwise. Destroying Gallifrey was the foul deed, there was no need to come up with another heinous crime. He'd met William of Ockham once, nice man with a bushy beard. The Doctor had tried to get him to work out the history of the planet Skaro and almost given him a nervous breakdown.

The Doctor racked his brain. Panic attacks, irrational fear. That wasn't like him. What if there was a logic at work? He tried to think back and the dread came, sharp and clinical. He shook it away, then he realised: thinking 147 back was what scared him. That's what the dread was stopping him doing.

It didn't want him getting to all those old memories. He'd always a.s.sumed he was being protected from the nasty memories, but perhaps his memories were being protected from nasty old him. Why, though?

The Doctor didn't feel any sudden sense he'd got it right. A moment later he'd worked out why. He'd decided that he didn't have any old memories because he'd deleted them all.

The Doctor deflated.

Something was tugging at him, telling him to get back to Earth. A seventh sense, or a twenty-eighth, or however many it was he had. He ignored it.

Earth would have to look after itself for a little while. He was so close. This had to be his priority; there couldn't be any distractions, not until he had the answers. What could be more important than settling this? Now he was sure he could work things out for himself. Take the facts, apply logic, take his time.

Think it through.

The police had all gone.

Rachel turned, to see Marnal sitting hunched in the back corner of the garage.

'Are you all right?' she asked, kneeling beside him.

He was rocking back and forth. 'They're here. How?'

'The police? They've gone.'

'We need to get into my TARDIS.'

'You have a TARDIS here?' Rachel asked.

Marnal pointed shakily over her shoulder.

'That was the Doctor's TARDIS. That's gone too.'

'It's not important. Not now.' Marnal suddenly seemed very old again.

Rachel looked around. Well, she was supposed to be his carer.

'Let's get you back into the house,' she said. 'It's warmer in there, more comfortable.'

She helped him to his feet. The garage door was slightly ajar.

'Four hours,' Marnal said. 'All it took them to find us was four hours.'

Rachel couldn't understand why it was so bright outside. It was like someone had put on a searchlight, but the quality of light wasn't as it should be.

She checked her watch. It was three in the morning it should be as dark as it got.

'Moths to a flame,' Marnal whispered, grabbing Rachel's arm. He looked pale, worried.

Rachel led him out of the garage. The air was cool. It was always quiet at this time of night, but there was almost a negative amount of noise, as though it had been sucked from the air. Marnal looked around. The surroundings 148 were all there, the air smelled right. There was no sign of the police, but the road remained coned off. If the residents hadn't been allowed back, that would explain the silence.

'What is it?' Rachel asked Marnal.

He pointed up.

Above them in the night's sky there was a second moon. It was larger than the first, and partially eclipsed it.

149.

The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.

' To -, One Word is Too Often Profaned To -, One Word is Too Often Profaned'

Percy Bysshe Sh.e.l.ley

Chapter Nine.

The Sphere of Our Sorrow

Fitz was woken by the sound of helicopters beneath him. It was twenty past six on Wednesday morning, EST.

Trix was still asleep, her head on his chest, pressed against him. A little too heavily for him to be entirely comfortable, but nothing would make him move her away. Fitz lay there, feeling how warm she was, how smooth. Her hair smelled of hotel shampoo. She looked so peaceful, unguarded, when she was asleep.

They'd not closed the curtains properly last night. Outside, there was a two-foot c.h.i.n.k of the Manhattan skyline. Vertical strips of skysc.r.a.pers, smaller buildings that would dwarf anything in London nestling among them, and the river and the New Jersey sh.o.r.eline beyond. It was getting light, they were forty-something storeys up, and that was high enough for helicopters to fly beneath them.

Trix shifted away a little, took some more of the sheets.

Fitz eased himself out of the bed and his bare feet planted themselves in deep carpet. He unhooked the complimentary dressing gown from the back of the bathroom door and put it on.