Doctor Who_ Companion Piece - Mike Tucker [27]
His eyes flickered across the huge dark cross of the Inquisitor's machine and shuddered. As if on cue, del Toro swept into the chamber. Agatho bowed.
`Your Grace. As you see, the Devil-box is almost in place.'
`Good, good. You know, I'm beginning to look forward to this trip.'
`To Rome? At this time?'
`My plans have changed, Agatho. Everything is in flux.
`W hat about the Good Shepherd Project?'
Del Toro passed a finger across his lips.
`Let us say that the Time Lord's arrival and His Eminence's tragic murder have given us pause for thought.'
`But what about me? W hat am I supposed to do? Braak is in uproar! You must leave me some of your guard.'
There was a rising bass rumbling somewhere deep beneath them.
`Get that thing into a stasis field,' the Grand Inquisitor barked.
`W hat's happening? W e're taking off?'
`You're coming with us to Rome.'
`Me? I can't go there!'
`You're not reliable, Agatho. You're a coward and a fool, and I want you where I can see you.'
The Bishop groaned and fell to his knees.
`Spare me, Grand Inquisitor!' he cried.
`Get up: said del Toro flatly. 'You sicken me.'
Days. There was nothing to do. The Doctor and Cat had chatted for a long while. He had talked about his past, his foes, his previous travelling companions.
`W hat happened to them?' Cat had asked.
`Most left: the Doctor had replied. 'Settled down to more . . . stable lives.'
`Do you ever see them?'
`Rarely. You know me — chaos follows in my wake. It hardly seems fair to inflict all that on them again.'
`I bet they'd love it.'
The Doctor sighed. 'Cat, some died.'
`Oh, I'm sorry. W ell, don't worry: She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'I'll try to stay alive.'
The Doctor smiled and patted her hand affectionately.
`Doctor, she asked after a while, 'can I ask you something? It's about my life before I hooked up with you.'
`Yes . . . '
`It's just . . . there seem to be gaps. Stuff I can't remember. I mean.. . what sort of a state was I in when we met? It's all kind of a blur.'
`I often have that effect on people: said the Doctor, a frown dancing across his brow. 'W e need a holiday. After we get out of this little mess . . . '
`Yes, but . . . '
`Cat: the Doctor interrupted gently, 'try not to think about it. I'm sure everything will come back to you once things . . . settle down. Now I need to rest for a while.'
And with that he had closed his eyes and — as far as Cat could see — gone straight to sleep.
Cat had wandered the blank, dim corridors, peered in pokey cells at nightmarish equipment and felt grateful that there appeared to be (with the possible exception of themselves) no one to torture.
She'd found a lift, but it wasn't working. She doubted there'd be anybody down to fix it in a hurry. Apart from herself and the Doctor, the occasional silent priest, passing like a ghost, and the guard who brought their food, the deck was deserted.
Or so Cat had assumed. Now she wasn't so sure. Sometimes, at the furthest extremity of the ship, out beyond the rows of tiny cells, she thought she could hear the grinding of machinery, accompanied by long, high screams.
She put the barely audible clamour down to her imagination working overtime in the silence and stillness. But, still, at certain times and in certain parts of the ship.. .
The Doctor was no use. He never stirred. He was breathing, and looked peaceful, if uncomfortable. She wondered how anyone could sit cross-legged for so long.
She wondered if the ship was haunted. The tormented spirits of those tortured to death on del Toro's machines . . . Father Julian's faceless monk . . . the Doctor floating like a cloud through the cathedral . . . She'd seen enough recently to convince herself that ghosts were real.
She shook her head — what was it about the Church and death, and what happened after death? Everything here seemed to revolve around it.
It surprised her that she had once believed it all. She suddenly recalled being asked,