Doctor Who_ Companion Piece - Mike Tucker [34]
Then again, round here, they still burned witches.
Perhaps Paddy'd lost his marbles too. Another thing they had in common.
It was no good. She got up from her makeshift bed — a large, foldedup sheet of tarpaulin — and rubbed her eyes. The Doctor was nowhere to be seen.
She wondered whether Father Julian would be up at this time of night, then corrected herself: she had no idea what time was being observed on the rest of the ship, and the dungeon deck was stuck in perpetual twilight. She set off to find a guard.
`Hello . . . ' she called.
She remembered the lift. Maybe now...
She found it and pressed the button. The machinery hummed into life, and the doors slid open. There was a guard inside.
`I want to see the Patriarch; she said, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. 'He told your boss to organise it.'
To her surprise, the guard stepped aside and let her join him in the lift. He punched a button, the doors shut and they began to rise. Three floors later she emerged to see another guard waiting.
`This way, miss: the guard said, courteously.
The Doctor was worrying about Cat. It was foolish, he knew. He was used to pulling his friends out of far more dangerous situations than this. It was almost a routine with him.
It didn't always work, of course. He thought of Adric, dead for being
a hero, an obstinate intellectual to the end. Katarina, so frightened and so brave . . .
So many had left him, and he'd let them go in peace.
He thought of Jo Grant's wedding. Another situation he'd wanted to pull her out of — selfish, of course, but it had hurt him at the time. He thought of Tegan, fiery, brave, but always appalled by the destruction, always torn, whether to stay or whether to go. Loyalty versus sanity. W as that the choice he offered his friends?
And of course, Ace. There was never any doubt with her — it was loyalty every time. Perhaps — who knew? — she'd been too dependent. Perhaps one of them had . . .
And yet he'd put her through hell. He'd once performed an autopsy on her corpse. But the loneliness when she'd left him — he could not have believed the loneliness. Once, in a previous incarnation, he had been happy to travel alone, but now . . . he was a different person, with different needs. Cat filled that void; she was the companion and friend that he needed to be there.
He forced himself to focus on the job in hand. All he had to do was give his escort the slip before they reached the Patriarch's quarters. He tried a quick bit of hypnotism, but the guard was unresponsive. It tended to have differing results on different cultures in different ages. He needed an aide de mesmer .. .
A second guard hurried around the corner and beckoned to his escort. The pair huddled into a whisper. The Doctor's hand sneaked to a door in the bulkhead. It was open, and as the guards were talking animatedly, the Doctor slipped inside.
He was in some sort of robing room. Priests' vestments hung in rows along the back wall. It might work...
No time to undress — he snatched up a generous gown and slipped it over his head. He'd only just got the collar attached when his escort found him. The guard looked at his new outfit, his expression one of confusion and uncertainty.
`I am not the man you are looking for the Doctor said with deep authority. 'I am a priest. You owe me your obedience. You no longer need to worry about the prisoner:
`Father.' The guard executed a hasty bow and left the room.
The Doctor exited after him. There were soldiers, ship's crew and priests scuttling about, muttering together, and a distinct sense of tension in the air. He intended to make for where he thought the bridge ought to be. He encountered no opposition — some of the ship's crew even nodded or greeted him as 'Father' as he passed them. He moved about the ship with ease.
Something was definitely up. He decided to brief himself before going any further. He hailed a passing crewman.
`Excuse me, what's happening?' he asked.
`Haven't