Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [113]
The Doctor suppressed a smile. If he told Medford that the fusion bombs had been deactivated, it might break the mood. Worse than that, the Provost-General might abort the launch. He feigned horror: ‘No, you mustn’t.’
‘Too late, Doctor.’ Medford leant over and flicked the switch.
The Doctor’s eyes snapped shut as the telepathic link was established, but he could hear a tremendous groaning noise wheezing from outside the dome and could feel the joy of the TARDIS as it entered the Time Vortex.
A rumbling noise had started outside.
The Doctor opened his eyes. Removing the Machine that had been a feature of the cavern for so long had weakened the rock, and boulders were crashing down to the floor. The Doctor smiled, relieved.
Medford was standing over Patience, who was also conscious. He had not holstered his pistol.
‘Kneel down.’ She did as he asked, dropping her hands into her lap. She looked over to the Doctor for reassurance.
Medford plucked the crown from her head with his free hand.
Without Patience, the telepathic link was difficult to maintain. The Doctor sat down, concentrating on the TARDIS, trying to picture it spinning through the Vortex.
It was still there, and as it continued along its flightpath he could almost feel the damage done on its first journey being repaired.
He winced. An unexpected surge of energy. But temporal fusion was working, and now it was underway, as long as he concentrated, he would be able to regulate the process himself.
‘It is not too late to stop this war from happening!’
Doctor cried out, using precious fragments of his mental energy. ‘We can help you.’
‘You’ve helped us already, thank you. Now, though, keeping you alive any longer is just a threat to security.’
The Provost-General held up the pistol, a projectile weapon. ‘If the brain is destroyed, you can’t regenerate.
That’s what you said, isn’t it?’
The Doctor nodded, unable to think. Just a few moments more and the Machine would be free of the damaged sections of the Vortex.
Medford placed the pistol to the back of Patience’s head.
His hand was still on her shoulder. She kept her eyes open, staring ahead, mouthing a plea to her husband.
‘No!’ the Doctor shouted. He found himself closing his eyes. For a moment the Machine swam away from his view.
It was on the brink of safety, so close to sanctuary.
There was a gunshot.
But there wasn’t the sound of a body falling to the ground.
The Machine was away, with a clear path home to Gallifrey. The damage to the Time Vortex was mended.
The Doctor opened his eyes, filled with irrational hope.
Patience still knelt there.
Medford released his grip on her shoulder. She pitched over. The Doctor lurched forward, snapping his connection with the Machine, but catching Patience. He crouched, cradling the back of her head. Her blue eyes were open, but empty. The Doctor’s fingertips had found the edge of the moist hole in the back of the skull. A warm liquid was dripping through his fingers.
Patience slowly faded out of existence. The Doctor uttered a short prayer in a language he couldn’t remember learning as she became lighter and lighter. She was gone now, and the Doctor was left clutching a bloodsoaked nightgown. He stared at it through wet eyes. Then he realized that the Provost-General was aiming the pistol at him.
Its muzzle was flecked with blood. The Doctor was unable and unwilling to move.
The pistol was six inches from his forehead. ‘There’s a bullet here with your name on it, Doctor.’
17
The Face of the Enemy
The pistol was six inches from his forehead. ‘There’s a bullet here with your name on it, Doctor.’
‘Fire away, It only fifty-fifty chance of hitting him.’ The owner of the voice stepped forward from behind them, raising his hat.
Medford swung round, levelling the pistol at the speaker. Whitfield flinched, then realized that she recognized the little man: this was the regenerated Doctor who had been speaking to Forrester and Adric. As the Chief Scientist tried to work out what