Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [73]
Pazon sat in the centre of the shack, trapped by the rainfall outside. He only hoped his little shack could withstand the rigours of the weather. He dropped his weapon and wrapped his arms around his knees, hugging himself in fear.
Lightning illuminated the orchard, and Anji raised her arm to cover her face, instinctively protecting her eyes against the rain. Then she remembered she was indoors, and looked up. High above her, she could see the sky through the windows on the Palaces roof. Storm clouds were racing, lightning crackling within. The image seemed blurry; rain may have been pooling across the panes, it was too far up for Anji to tell.
She remembered another storm, on the planet Hitchemus. The Doctor, an alien device strapped to his arm, commanding the weather. Lightning and violins. The Doctor had deserted them on the basis of his own principles, risked his life among the tigers and the humans, and proved himself stronger than all of them. The Doctor could look after himself, and tried to do what he considered to be right, no matter what the cost.
Whereas Dave had never made that choice. Accident had brought him into the path of an alien conflict, and he had died for it. And if Anji was to stick to her own principles, then she would have to try to give some version of Dave another shot at life. As for the Doctor... wasnt it him who had always stressed the importance of doing what was right? Anji was certain that whatever damage she did to the Doctor by revealing his secrets, the Doctor would pull through to face the challenge. He was a survivor. Dave hadnt been. Anji would have to worry about the weak, and let the strong look after themselves.
To her surprise, Anji found she had a clear way forward.
Miraso was woken by the bleeping of the communist next to her bed. She fumbled in the dark, trying to find the headset. Finally she slid it over her smooth scalp, ear pieces clicking into place.
Miraso here, she said into the mouthpiece. I thought the communication channels were still down.
They are, said a deep, familiar voice. Miraso was instantly awake.
Silver?
The same. Im speaking from outside the normal channels, as you still seem to be having power problems. Meet me on the roof of the Palace in twenty minutes.
What for? asked Miraso, but the line was dead. She swore, rolling out of bed in one catlike motion, grabbing her clothes from a chair.
All the militiamen in Powlins watchtower had come to the upper gantry, to watch the storm from behind the shielded glass. It made Powlin nervous to be so close to the rain, running down the outside of the windows. Endpoint rains could scorch the skin and poison everything they touched. The watchtower was sealed, but all the same it unnerved him. Normally he wouldnt have been up there for love nor money. None of them would have been, with the possible exception of the more foolhardy men, the ones who lived for this kind of danger.
But without exception they were there, watching a storm like none they had ever seen. Lightning rippling through the clouds was one thing. But from within the sea as well? From the stratosphere to the depths, vast energies were being released. Powlin could taste it in the air, a new electricity, a tang of static.
Someone swore, while others gasped. At first Powlin thought they were overreacting to another flash of lightning, another spectacular fork slicing through the air. Then he saw it for himself.
Through the mist of fog and rain it was hard to make out, only the outlines of its shape could be clearly defined. A vast, dark shape lifting out of the sea, a broad cigarshaped object that floated in the mist, just out to sea. As Powlin watched it rose higher, then began to move