Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [60]
In it, there were men with two hearts, and attendant demons from a thousand worlds across the sky. Some boxes were bigger on the inside than on the outside, and those boxes were special, because they could take you backward in time, forward in time, sideways in time, even in and out of time. Those who possessed such boxes – such TARDISes – were truly blessed, given an advantage over all other beings. They weren’t gods, but they were wise enough to make people believe they were gods. And the other prisoner? He was one of those Lords, but fallen, imprisoned here for crimes against darker things, against the powers that opposed the Lords’ intentions.
Most of the conversation had taken place in the early hours of the morning. Badar hadn’t slept well, and whenever he’d lost consciousness he’d dreamed of the new world‐of‐worlds the pale man had brought into the cell, of the Lords and the Ladies and the darkness and the stars. The black things had come to him as he’d dreamed, and hovered over his resting place on the floor of the cell, scraping their nails against the walls, making the brickwork crackle with electricity. More than once, the sparks had woken him up, and the dark things had dissolved into the blood cells of his eyes. Whenever that had happened, Badar had turned his head, towards the silhouette of the man under the darkened window, to ask another question about the world they were building. The man had always answered him, so Badar was starting to wonder whether the Lords needed sleep at all, or whether they spent their nights sculpting new ideas instead of resting.
In the morning, Badar found speech much easier than it had been the previous day. When he turned his head, the man was still there, cross‐legged under the window.
‘I don’t understand,’ Badar said. There were cracks in his voice, little gaps in the words, and his throat ached whenever he took a breath. Water. The guards hadn’t left any water yesterday, had they? Or maybe they had, and he’d just forgotten about it.
‘You should get some more rest,’ the other prisoner said.
Badar tried shaking his head. ‘Almost. It’s almost finished. Our world. Almost makes sense now.’
The man sighed. ‘If you insist.’
‘You move through time in your TARDIS,’ Badar stated.
‘Yes.’
‘You can change time in your TARDIS.’
‘Well –’
‘You said. Yesterday.’
The man paused, then nodded. ‘Theoretically. Most of the time, I have to defend it. Not change it. Stop it being changed.’
‘You said… there were other worlds. Colonies. Homes of humans. You said you’d saved them. From the dark things.’
The man nodded again. ‘That’s true.’
‘Should they have… have been saved? Saving them. Saving them is changing time. That’s what I think… you meant.’
‘Ah.’ The man had to think this over for a while. ‘Well, that’s true. I’ve saved a few settlements that shouldn’t have been saved. I’ve changed history on some of the outer planets. Just one or two, but –’
‘Changed time.’
‘Technically, yes.’
‘Technically…’
The man seemed to be getting ever so slightly agitated. ‘Time travel’s an incredibly complex pastime. The equations governing causality wouldn’t fit into the heads of all the mathematicians your species has ever produced. It’s dangerous to make generalisations. But I’ve changed history on some of Earth’s colony worlds, yes. A few thousand people here and there who should have died, but didn’t.’ He must have realised he was starting to sound uneasy, because he deliberately lowered his voice. ‘It’s against the rules, I know. As I said. Technically.’
‘It’s forbidden? Your people… your race…’
‘Species,’ said the man. ‘I’m a different species from you, not a different race. It’s a common mistake. You and Sam are different races. The same species, but different races. Both products of the human genetic process.’
Badar had heard the man mention this Sam before, but he hadn’t gone into detail. Badar doubted she was important to the TARDIS world. ‘Your people tell you not to change things,’ he said. ‘Then why do you do it?’
‘Because I can.’ Badar’s eyes