Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [29]
Miraso shrugged. And thats what its been like ever since. It isnt really an ending, I know, but thats what you get for asking for a true story. She sat back down, rubbing the back of her neck. Fitz presumed it ached from staring up at the ceiling.
Oh, I dont know, said the Doctor, emerging from the shadows. Ive always liked a deferred ending. It means you can make up your own mind over how the story ends. Fitz noted a swagger in his step, a determination and purpose that had been absent earlier in the evening.
How long have you been there? asked Miraso suspiciously.
Long enough, said the Doctor. This place is fascinating. Its a wonder anything can live on Endpoint, never mind maintain a complex society here.
We pull through, said Miraso. I see you found your way back.
A traveller like myself learns how to get around new places, said the Doctor. You know, Im quite surprised you still have the same guards at the door as earlier tonight. Im surprised the Brotherhood didnt kill or seriously injure them in the attack.
Miraso shrugged yet again. If they werent resilient, they wouldnt make good door staff.
The Doctor mimicked her shrug. I suppose thats true. Still, putting them back to work so soon after being attacked that seems a little harsh.
This is a harsh world, Doctor, said Miraso.
Fitz knew what the Doctor wanted to say; that the harshness of Endpoint was no reason to become harsh yourself, that a person should struggle against such an environment.
But the Doctor didnt say anything of the sort. Although less morose than before, he seemed tired; not just from experience past, but the sort of exhaustion brought on by what a person is facing.
Its very late, said the Doctor. Fitz and Anji need to sleep if theyre to have any chance of adjusting to local time.
Miraso nodded. Certainly. Well put you in the spare staff quarters. Miraso walked over to a door by the bar. If youd follow me.
The Doctor dreams.
The great ship rocks upon the dark, stormy sea, but the First Mate holds the wheel steady and the ship maintains its course, cutting through the hostile waves. Whistles blow and sailors climb the rigging, struggling with ropes and adjusting the sails. Forked lightning licks the mast, sliding up and threatening to set the sails aflame, but the fire doesnt catch and none of the crew are hurt.
The Doctor looks out across the sea, but there is only the void, swirling clouds and foaming sea blurring into a mass of grey, occasionally illuminated by the flashes of primal energy that erupt from those massed clouds.
Captain, cries the First Mate. Were approaching the enemy.
Before the Doctor realises hes been addressed, he straightens his brightlybuttoned jacket and marches to the prow. He looks out, and sights land ahead. A shining island, floating in the darkness. The enemy.
The Doctor, who barely knows himself by now, feels free of the restrictions of himself. He is a new man, unsure not only of what he is doing but of what it is his nature to do. He cuts free with a bold decision, pulling up his own anchor and setting himself adrift.
Raise the cannons! booms the Doctor, and gun barrels are raised, some from the prow of the ship, others from within the deck.
He raises his arm, feeling the wind and the rain lashing his bare hand. Nature is against him, but he can withstand the storm.
Fire! cries the Doctor, bringing down his arm. Cannon balls streak through the night, exploding on impact with the shining land. The shore ahead erupts into flames, massive destruction caused by the Doctors order. Smoke drifts up into the clouds, is swept away in the storm. The ruins smoulder.
The Doctor stares at his own