Doctor Who_ Toy Soldiers Part 30

Roz watched the scanner for a moment, saw the Englishwoman hugging her daughter, Benny standing by.

Standing by with the bad news.

She shook her head, turned back to Nadienne, ignoring the Doctor who was prodding around at the console in an embarra.s.sed and obviously irrelevant manner. 'Are you sure you don't want to forget?' she asked the woman.

Nadienne's face was still white, and the hollow expression in her eyes was the same as when they had found her, crawling through a freezing, muddy ditch with a platoon of near-demented Kreetas. The pa.s.sage through the transmat beam had brought on premature labour, and her baby had been born dead. Nadienne had gone into shock, and probably would have died if they hadn't found her. But when the Doctor had done his trick with his hands and said, 'Forget,' the woman had simply said, 'I don't want to.'

She'd ridden with them in the TARDIS for two weeks after that, caring for the crowds of refugees that had shuffled, blank-eyed, along the roundelled corridors. Biune, Kreetas, Ajeesks - even Ogrons, and Nadienne had been there, telling them it was all over now, urging the Doctor's pills and potions on them, or sitting over the dying in rooms that had suddenly shaped themselves to reflect the arctic light of Kreetania, or the dark fetid air of the Ogron homeworld. She had stood in the TARDIS doorway, saying to this alien or that, 'So this is your home? How wonderful! Look at the bright colours! Now, take care, won't you? - And live your life well.'

Roz had watched her, watched as she rebuilt herself inside. There'd been mornings when Nadienne had emerged from her room red-eyed, sleepless. Roz had said nothing, knowing what it took, knowing that comfort would be useless.

Yesterday, they'd talked about Jean-Pierre: she'd said she didn't love him, that he'd changed since their marriage, that she wouldn't live with him any more. 'I'll go back to nursing.

There's plenty to do, after the war, that's more important than living with a selfish man who doesn't love me.'

So now, when she asked Nadienne if she wanted to forget, she wasn't surprised when the answer was a quiet, 'No.'

The Doctor glanced up from the console, glanced at Roz, then looked down again.

Roz knew that, however irrational it seemed, the Doctor felt personally responsible for all the suffering that had happened. He had mended Manda's broken body, he had mended Josef s broken mind. Now he wanted to do the same for Nadienne.

But Roz knew he didn't need to.

She glanced at him again, but he avoided her look. She shrugged inwardly, and turned her attention back to the scanner. Mrs Sutton was sobbing uncontrollably, her head pressed against the wall. Manda was trying to comfort her.

Benny was standing by helplessly, tears on her face.

'We should never forget,' said Nadienne suddenly.

'Never.'

It could have brought them anything.

It could have brought them statesmen, philosophers, poets, musicians, artists, athletes, storytellers. It could have poets, musicians, artists, athletes, storytellers. It could have brought them jugglers and clowns, masons, bakers, farmers, brought them jugglers and clowns, masons, bakers, farmers, foresters, wine-makers, woodworkers, architects or inventors. foresters, wine-makers, woodworkers, architects or inventors.

It could have brought them starship pilots, ecogeneticists, agriformers, skyriders, ur-s.p.a.ce mappers. agriformers, skyriders, ur-s.p.a.ce mappers.

It could have brought them anything.

And, this time, it did.