Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Times Crucible - Marc Platt [120]
The young Chronaut crew was huddled in a ring of reunion close by. The older ones, the released guards, were scattered, watching, ignored by their younger selves.
"What happens now?" said Shonnzi.
"I think you get your ship back," said Ace, but she didn't look at him.
"Oh."
"You'll be pushing off then. Back home," she went on. "Have you got a family?" She turned towards him, but he looked away.
"I suppose so. There's always the grumblies."
There was a pause while they dodged the part of the portrait of "The Arnolfini Marriage" that drifted through between them.
Ace nodded towards it with a half-smile. "It's the Doctor's," she said. "He picks up the weirdest stuff and carts it everywhere with him."
"It's from the Flemish school," said Shonnzi. "By Jan van Eyck, what's left of it. There was an accident with the deletion chimper. The TARDIS told me."
"Come with us," she said.
His face dropped. "I . . . can't, Ace," he answered quietly.
"There's no problem. The others can cope without you. And there's plenty of room in the TARDIS."
"It's not that easy."
"Yes, it is. I'll fix it with the Doctor." She caught a painful look in his eyes, but he kept moving his head away. She guessed what it meant. "Commitments," she exploded. "Why do people always have commitments?"
"Sorry."
"So what's the matter?" She tried to take his arm, but he pulled that away too. "That's it. Misery, misery, misery. If you don't want to come, just say so."
"It's not that!" There was despair in his voice that bordered on anger.
"Then why?" She was about to grab him and kiss him hard. Instead, she pulled back. "Just wait . . . I'll talk to the Doctor."
"Ace."
He reached for her, but she walked away instead.
The Doctor scrutinized a panel of instruments that was drifting past. He was sure it had nothing to do with the TARDIS.
"The chrono-telemeter," called the older Pekkary, "from their Scaphe."
The Doctor nodded slowly and hobbled across to the Captain. "It's all coming together then. The redirecting of the artron power was the kick start it needed. Thank you, Pekkary."
"A restoration," agreed Pekkary. He observed the huddle of young Chronauts a little way off.
In the golden light, Reogus was lifting the young Pilot on to his shoulders. "Now that the Menti Celesti favour us again, we should make an offering of thanks."
The other Chronauts were eager to agree. Only their young Captain Pekkary, his face cruelly scarred, turned away with a look of anger.
"Oracular vernacular," muttered the older Pekkary. "Next they'll be making blood sacrifices."
The Doctor eyed the Captain warily. He still had questions that badgered his thoughts. But they had to be worded with extreme care. "You don't believe in all that?" he asked.
Pekkary shrugged. "I go along with it. It's instilled in us from birth."
"But you really believe in a new order of Reason instead?"
"I don't believe in the Pythia's regime of superimposed superstition. Is there ever a new order, Doctor? You're from the future. You tell me."
"My knowledge of ancient history is fragmentary, Pekkary. My memories get a bit confused."
"But the Time experiments are successful?"
"Eventually. After many changes."
"And we become . . . Time Lords?"
The Doctor sighed deeply. "Contact with the Past is forbidden. But I can talk to you, Pekkary. I think you understand why."
The answer was perfunctory. "My crew are just redundant possibilities now. Dead ends on a defunct timeline." He nodded to the group of young Chronauts. "That's the real future starting over there."
"I'm sorry, Pekkary. Your ordeals were not wasted. We're rid of the Process for good."
Pekkary