Doctor Who_ Empire of Death - BBC Worldwide [48]
I was looking out of the window, fascinated by how different London was from my other visit to his city. The clothes, the buildings, even the transportation n which we were sitting were much at variance with my previous experiences. I asked the Doctor how long it would take us to reach our destination.
`King's Cross? Less than an hour I should think - it's long past rush hour. The Doctor smiled broadly at his own joke.
`No, I mean to reach the rift,' I replied, not appreciating the jest.
Àhh, well, now you're asking. Without a copy of Bradshaw's I can't honestly tell you. The Great Northern Railway from King's Cross does run trains to Scotland, but it will hardly be an express service. And as for a buffet of light refreshments...'
I asked him to approximate - days, weeks or months?
`Hopefully no more than a day. I suspect the longest part of the journey may be getting to the rift itself once we've arrived in Scotland'
I still couldn't understand why we simply didn't use the TARDIS to make the trip.
`Not the most inconspicuous form of transport we could choose,' the Doctor replied. 'Besides, the old girl is not at her best doing short hops sideways in space. This way both the TARDIS and we are guaranteed to get there, even if it takes a little longer. Now enjoy the ride. It's not often we have the luxury of savouring our circumstances'
It was nearly midnight when Sergeant Vollmer began sorting through and cataloguing all of Ashe's personal effects.
Kempshall had taken one look at the corpse and turned a queasy shade of green, but that didn't stop the naval lieutenant commandeering the dead man's tent for himself.
So Vollmer was forced to finish this unhappy task outside in the cold night air. The weak light from his lantern illuminated the meagre possessions - a shaving brush made of badger's bristles, a leather strop and cut-throat razor, some sterling silver cufflinks, a sepia photograph of an elderly, stern-faced couple - presumably Ashe's parents. At least I won't have to write and tell them their son is dead, Vollmer thought. Ashe had been his commanding officer, so that unhappy task would fall to someone further up the chain of command.
Thank goodness for small mercies.
Vollmer was still trying to push away the image of those lifeless, staring eyes. The lieutenant's lips had been drawn back from his gums as if he was about to scream, but no sound would come from that mouth again. Most curious of all, Ashe's hair had turned completely white, as if he had aged decades in moments. The rest of his face showed no such signs, but the hair colour - how would the examining surgeon explain that to the grieving family? The body had been carefully wrapped in linen cloth and sealed inside a long canvas bag. In the morning Vollmer would send to the nearest undertaker for a coffin to collect the dead man and transport the corpse back to Aldershot for a full military funeral.
The sergeant found the orders folded inside Ashe's copy of the King James Bible, a single sheet of paper folded over three times and sealed with red wax. Scrawled across the outside of the paper were three words. 'Open Upon Arrival.
Vollmer decided now was as good a time as any. Should the contents prove him wrong, he could always blame the mistake on Ashe. He didn't think the dead lieutenant would begrudge him that.
The razor quickly dealt with the seal and Vollmer opened out the folded sheet of paper. Its interior edges had a thick border of black ink. The sergeant need a few moments to decipher the handwriting but the signature was quite clear.
Vollmer rested his hands against his knees to stop the paper shaking and began to read.
Windsor
Feb 1863
To the Officer who receives these Orders: You have been chosen for a most important mission on behalf of your Queen. You and your men have two tasks we wish you to perform. In the water beneath Corra Linn is said to be a portal, a secret entranceway to another world. Your first task is to stand guard and make sure no others may gain access to that place. We trust this