Doctor Who_ Ghost Ship - Keith Topping [24]
Had my vision been a warning, like the writing on the wall earlier? Had they, whoever they were, tried to warn Miss Lamb, through me, not to go near water?
Water, water everywhere yet not a drop to drink ...
I gave poor, lonely, doomed Miss Lamb a final and lingering look. I tried to imagine the terror that must have gone through her mind as she experienced the last woeful seconds of her short and, perhaps, painful life. It was all too easy to do so.
In the midst of life we are in death, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
The water was so still now, that it was almost like looking through a sheet of glass. Tiny air bubbles had formed themselves around Miss Lamb's body, sticking to her skin the way that limpets cling to submerged rocks. Her lips were slightly parted, her clean white teeth just visible. It was almost as if she were smiling. Almost, but not quite.
The ship lurched in the waves at that moment and the bath waters rippled gently, sending the bubbles floating upwards to the surface, and to freedom.
Anguished by the sight of the dead woman and her maddeningly accusing eyes, I turned away and left the two stewards alone with the body.
CHAPTER SIX
A WARNING TO THE
CURIOUS
Out flew the web and floated wide, the mirror crack'd from side to side,
'The curse is come upon me,' cried the Lady of Shalott.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, THE LADY OF SHALOTT
I EXPERIENCED THE AFTERMATH OF THIS TERRIBLE, TRAGIC event in a state of quiet numbness. I felt the bitter taste of bile in my mouth as I reached the corridor and spent several fruitless moments searching for a place in which to be sick. It was unusual for me to react that way to death, that occupational hazard of my way of life, but there are moments when even Time Lords retch at the horrors of existence. This was such a moment.
I had run out of all the easy options. And most of the difficult options too. But there was one thing that I could do, one thing that would satisfy me and make me feel real and honest again, at least to myself.
I returned to the TARDIS and, finding in the old cloisters a bare brick wall that hadn't seen any light in decades, I proceeded to beat my fists against it, cursing the universe and fate. Cursing evil and stupidity. Cursing and swinging out at everything wildly, though sometimes accurately; but, chiefly, cursing myself and my well-developed ability to be occasionally, totally and utterly wrong about everything. With fatal consequences.
Fortune is always hiding, they say.
I took a long, hard look at my own bad fortune. It was not a pretty sight
in the slightest.
I felt hollow and sickened by my failure to help poor Miss Lamb. To stop the inevitable process that led to her demise. It was such a simple and easy thing to do. Just one solitary life to save.
Not a state or a world this time or a solar system, nor the entire universe itself, but just one woman. One lonely and helpless woman. An intelligent, charming and fascinating woman who had depended, for her life, on me.
No complications, no concerns about changing the timelines or creating imperfect futures or alternate pasts. Just a straightforward piece of common-or-garden, everyday heroism. And I couldn't even manage that.
I wept.
For the first time in many long years, I cried selfish, angry and inconsolable tears.
Again, I tried to leave the ghost ship, and all the horrors that it contained, far behind me. Again, the TARDIS simply refused to comply.
It was as if I were being punished for my numerous inabilities; for the way in which I had become so wrapped up in trivia that I was missing the obvious. The TARDIS was telling me that what was going on upon this ship was now my problem. And that any solutions would have to be my solutions.
So, once again, I was forced to leave my bubble-pack world and walk up onto the top deck, my chest heaving with the exertion as I climbed the stairs to