Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [29]
‘Fascinating,’ he breathed, finally able to take it all in. This is. . . what, exactly?’ He glanced at Madame Xing, dimly visible through the whirl of images.
‘These are the memories around the lacuna,’ Madame Xing whispered.
‘Someone or something has deleted your memories of a specific event. I would surmise that they were working quickly and not as expertly as I would have done. There are traces of. . . ’ She paused. ‘Of your own interference in the process?’
‘I was aware of what was happening?’
‘It would seem so.’
It was like discovering an old diary, thought the Doctor, opening the pages and finding all those things that you’d forgotten you’d ever remembered. He saw a wobbly view – presumably his own – stepping through the doors of the TARDIS (the TARDIS!) on to soft grass. In his hand, as he looked down, was the detector he’d been using to trace the distress call that they’d picked up.
The viewpoint swung giddily, and he was looking back over his shoulder at Fitz who was following behind and grumbling about Trix (Fitz and Trix – how could he have forgotten them?!) never wanting to do anything interesting.
Then he was facing forwards again, pushing through bushes, catching his feet and hearing Fitz chuckle.
And then he heard Fitz shout, and something huge and dark blotted everything out. He blinked and he was back in the dim library, looking at Calamee.
‘What?’ she said, staring at him.
‘What?’
‘I said it first. What happened? You looked liked you’d tripped out for a few seconds.’
‘Some trip, believe me. Well, at least I have some idea of what happened before I. . . ’
He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh bugger,’ he said softly.
‘What?’
With the remembrance of Fitz, Trix and the TARDIS came something else.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘ What? ’
He saw Calamee look at Madame Xing – although whether she was looking back at her was impossible to tell.
52
‘What’s he talking about?’
‘To lose one set of memories may be regarded as a misfortune,’ said Madame Xing quietly, her voice still tinged with those humming, synthetic undertones.
‘To lose two smacks of carelessness. Now – the other interferences.’
He took a breath. ‘Well. . . ’
‘I may be able to correct most of them now for you if –’
‘No!’ he answered sharply, more sharply than he’d intended. ‘No, no thank you.’ He softened his tone.
‘Why?’ whispered Calamee. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’
‘Yes, yes. . . ’ He shook his head, suddenly not sure quite what he wanted.
‘No, not like this.’
‘You would prefer to remain incomplete?’ It was Madame Xing, sounding vaguely confused.
‘I’m not incomplete, thank you very much.’
‘Without half your memories?’ Calamee sounded sceptical. ‘How many times did she say you’d been interfered with? That can’t be normal, can it?
And you don’t want to get it sorted. Come on! How many people get a chance like this?’
‘Calamee, I know you mean well, but memories aren’t something you just, well, go messing about with.’
Calamee looked at Madame Xing. ‘Maybe I’m a bit slow, but isn’t that what Madame Xing’s just done?’ She turned back to him and frowned. She didn’t understand, he realised. She couldn’t understand. There were times when he didn’t understand.
‘Is there any risk involved?’ Calamee asked Madame Xing. ‘With putting him right?’
‘There is always risk.’
‘See!’ said the Doctor. ‘There’s always risk. Like I said, you can’t just go messing about, wading in there and reconnecting neurons and what-have-you. Who knows what kind of a mess I might end up with? The brain is a very delicate thing, Calamee. It’ll sort itself out before long, believe you me.’
‘That’s not what you said ten minutes ago.’
‘Trust me, Calamee. I know what I’m doing.’ He felt himself struggling not to snap at her.
‘But do you? You don’t even seem to know your name: has that come back to you now? Or is it one of the things that you still can’t remember?’ Calamee sounded really worried for him, and he felt guilty. He shouldn’t have to do this to her. ‘Is that all stuff from your other amnesias,