Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [3]
‘What do the High Council want it for?’ the Doctor asked, although he didn’t take his eyes off the micro‐universe when he said it.
‘I think the Time Lords are after some kind of escape route,’ said I.M. Foreman. ‘They’re expecting trouble. Not sure of the details. They think the bottle‐universe might be a good place to hide out, if things get too rough for them.’ The Doctor didn’t respond to that, even though she’d expected it to be big news to him. Too distracted by the things inside the glass, probably.
‘The thing is, I think the High Council are going to get hold of the bottle sooner or later anyway,’ she went on. ‘I’ve seen things inside the micro‐universe that aren’t supposed to be there. Things I didn’t put there. And I think they’re Time Lords. Time Lords from the real universe. I think the High Council’s going to evacuate into the bottle sometime in the future, and start exploring space‐time there. You wouldn’t believe the powers they’ve picked up, now they’re out of their home continuum. I mean, their grasp of time travel inside the bottle looks a bit shaky, but in a lot of ways they’re almost godlike, except that… you’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?’
Suddenly, the Doctor’s big soppy eyes were fixed right on her. The bottle, realising that it was no longer the centre of attention, went back to showing images of spinning galaxies and collapsing solar systems.
‘Hmm,’ said the Doctor, in what was presumably his best noncommittal voice.
I.M. Foreman sighed. ‘All I’m saying is, I think the whole future of your race is in this bottle somewhere. Which makes it the most valuable object in the galaxy, I’d say. I just thought you’d be interested.’
The Doctor nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, yes,’ he said. ‘You’re right. It’s very important. It’s just not really what I came here to talk about. My own future’s a hard enough thing to deal with at the moment, without having to worry about the future of Gallifrey as well. Not that I should be getting involved in future events anyway.’
I.M. Foreman tutted. ‘This isn’t a social call, then. Didn’t think so. All right, what is it you want?’
The Doctor stuffed his hands into his pockets. Turned away from her. Looked out over the valley. Turned back again. Five regenerations ago, thought I.M. Foreman, he would have just stood there scratching the back of his neck.
‘Things have been happening to me recently,’ the Doctor said. ‘Important things. Worrying things. And I think… they’re connected to what happened before. What happened between us. The last time we met.’
‘So?’
The Doctor almost looked hurt. ‘I wanted to talk things through,’ he said. ‘About our last meeting. About what happened on Dust. I think there’s something I’m missing.’
‘You mean you want to talk over old times.’
‘Just to make sure I’ve got everything in the right order. Yes.’
I.M. Foreman nodded, then pulled herself on to her feet. She heard the joints cracking in her legs when she moved, and wondered how long it’d be before she’d have to rebuild this body. Or leave it behind altogether.
‘Fair enough,’ she said, doing her best to hide the strain in her voice. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’
‘A walk? Where to?’
‘Doesn’t matter. You’re just not the type who likes to talk sitting down, that’s all.’
The Doctor had to think about that for a while.
‘You’re right,’ he said, eventually. Then he held out his arm for her. ‘I feel like pacing. How about those woods?’
* * *
They got as far as the woodland’s edge, close to the spot where the Doctor had left his TARDIS, before he looked back over his shoulder. He was gazing up at the top of the hill, where the morning light was glinting off the surface of the universe‐in‐a‐bottle. I.M. Foreman had been holding on to his arm while they’d walked, so she could feel the muscles