Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [3]
She had become used to waking up alone. It didnt upset her any more, and this realisation in itself was enough to bring on a twinge of grief and guilt, a guilt only increased by her full awareness that the end of her mourning, the fact that she had moved on and into a new phase, was a perfectly healthy thing for her.
In some stupid, irrational way she just couldnt help feeling that Dave deserved better than for her to get over his death like this. But what more could she do? Taken away from home, thrown into danger wherever she went. Life in the TARDIS hardly lent itself to periods of contemplation.
It was unhealthy to lie around letting matters such as these fester in an unoccupied mind, thought Anji. Like it or not, it was time to get up and get on with things. She threw back the covers and, casting unproductive thoughts aside, rose from her bed to start the day.
Whatever time of day it actually was.
Kyrro had barely seen whatever had come over the rails. The fog had stung his eyes, the breeze from the toxic sea had only made it worse... all he saw was some kind of pallid, insectlike thing, black bug eyes staring out as it dropped on to all fours on the pathway. And then the flash of something bright, something polished. Something sharp.
Kyrro ran, and with a slight gasp of relief realised he was heading towards the nearest watchtower. Hed never been a big supporter of the militia, but Kyrro hoped they didnt know that. Forcing his burning lungs to take in a deep breath as he ran, Kyrro released the icy, fetid air as a long cry for help. He hoped someone was listening.
Anji found the Doctor in the console room, and instantly felt a tension. Not just in the way the TARDISs pilot was bent over the central console, punching buttons and sliding levers, but a tremor in the air, like a vibration from nearby machines. The light from the ceiling flickered slightly, as if the ships power was being diverted. Ripples of raw energy shuddered through the crystalline shapes within the consoles central column. The TARDIS was straining, being pushed to its limits.
Good morning Anji, said the Doctor, not looking up. He was perfectly polite, but there was an edge to his voice, a note of obsession. His curly hair seemed messier than normal, his sleeves rolled up and his waistcoat crumpled. Whatever the Doctor was working on, he was taking it seriously. Why dont you fix yourself some breakfast? Fitz might even help, if you can get him off that sofa.
Hey, said Fitz Kreiner, from his position draped across the sofa between two of the rooms alcoves, a leatherbound book open on his knees. If its toast youre after, then my breadloading skills are at your disposal. Just say the word.
Thats OK, tiger, said Anji, tapping Fitz on the shoulder. Ill get by without you. But thanks for the offer.
Fitz grinned, returning his attention to his book. Any time.
As Anji fixed herself some food in the kitchen area, she watched the two men in the console room. The Doctor and Fitz had a lot in common some shared history, a tendency to be antiauthoritarian at best and downright obstinate at worst but they were also so far apart. Fitz, in spite of all his big talk and outright lies, was one of the most real, most human people Anji had ever met. He could try and be the man of mystery all he wanted, but there was something about Fitzs scruffy leather coat and unshaven appearance that could never be anything other than down to earth. Over the last few months she had realised she could rely on Fitz, on his good nature and humanity. The Doctor, on the other hand, was very much something else. Anji watched him muttering to himself as he operated the TARDIS controls, talking to the machine as if engaged in a motivational exercise rather than a technical operation. What was he thinking? Anji knew by now that she couldnt second guess, she simply