Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Times Crucible - Marc Platt [103]
The Phazels caught the unravelling missile and weighted their end down. The length of dark red carpet was patterned with intertwining lines and knots of colour. It spanned the gulf between Times, twisting dangerously against the surface surge of the mercury stream.
The oldest Pekkary steadied his side of the flimsy bridge as Ace started to edge across on all fours. The carpet sagged and mercury flowed around her hands and knees.
Her eyes were closed. The young Captain Pekkary could see her through the shimmering air, mouthing strangely abrupt encouragements to herself as she forced her way towards him. The bridge swayed violently for a moment and she clung to it, unable to move for fear.
Finally, it settled and she edged on again. Arms reached out to her and she was hauled to safety. "Hold it tight for Pekkary," was all she said, and she crouched on the carpet herself.
The older Pekkary had piled more rocks on to his end of the bridge. He set out slowly, inching across the torrent on the swaying length, his coat trailing in the stream.
Suddenly the ground juddered with a tremor. The pile of rocks on the far bank collapsed and the carpet slewed into the stream. The old man clung tight as mercury surged around him.
Ace yelled and the Phazels began to haul at the carpet. Slowly it came in, dragging the older Pekkary with it. They pulled him out of the stream and he stood gasping before them.
The young Pekkary stared at the parody of himself: the face scarred, one-eyed and cadaverous, the body covered with monstrous growths, the heavy coat beaded with tiny globules of silver.
The look was returned with a fusion of determination and despair. "I'm just a possibility, that is all," said the old man. He studied each of the Phazels in turn, but his look returned finally to his younger self. "I may not live long."
The younger lifted his hand to his own face. "What happened to my eye?" he said.
"Time changes," replied his elder. "The flow of events that created me may not now occur.
"Will we ever be free of this place?"
The old man glanced towards the next City across the stream. "The structures of the Future sustain even when their Past is shattered. But lives can be altered."
"Why are you staring at me?" blustered Reogus. "Go back to the Future where you belong." He pointed at Ace. "And take her with you!"
"Reogus Teleem," the old Pekkary replied, "do not provoke the Future when you know nothing of what it holds. There are many ways of escape, but Ace and the Doctor are the only source of hope."
Young Pekkary turned to Ace. "Can you prove that?"
Her eyes darted up to her companion for guidance. "I could prove it, but the Doctor would do it better."
"How do we know that?" complained Reogus. "It's their fault we're trapped here."
Chesperl pulled him back. "Why have you come alone?" she asked.
"If you come from the Future, where are the others?" said Amnoni.
"I am just a possibility . . .," began the old Captain.
His younger self nodded. "It is because ultimately we have no Future at all," he said.
"Why don't you listen?" exploded Ace. "It affects me too. We can still have a Future if we do something now!"
There was a deep boom that echoed shuddering through the ground and air, trapped in the confines of the shrinking sphere. Waves of mercury spilled from the stream as the banks edged closer together. The Phazels stared up across the rising City. It was wreathed in a smog of dust and smoke caused by the devastation. From the south pole, which stood at a rough right angle to their position, an immense mottled moon had torn itself free of the world. A vast orb of glutinous light that rose slowly out above the cratered wound of its birth.
"It's an omen of death," shouted Reogus.
"Reogus," said Chesperl. "Shut up!"
The young Captain turned to