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Will the universe be opened? the Cold asked.

Guest nodded. The nod shook every cell of the Cold’s being.

‘Go free,’ he said.

* * *

24

Cool

(eleven characters, eleven loose ends)

The Doctor:

‘It’s not working,’ said Kode.

The two Remote people were standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, watching the Doctor sink his hands into the surface of the media. He shook his head, with some vigour. ‘It’s got to work. We’ve got to get through to him.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not working,’ Kode insisted. ‘Can’t you feel it?’

‘He’s everywhere,’ Compassion added.

Everywhere. The Doctor listened. No, that made the process sound much too focused, much too hard-edged. He opened up his senses, let the city speak to him. There was no way he could see the world the way the Remote saw it, but his nervous system was more adaptable than most. He should at least have been able to pick up some kind of background noise, or –

Go free, said Guest.

The Doctor jumped, and his hands came away from the sphere with an ugly schlopping sound. Sam stared at him, obviously alarmed.

‘She’s right,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘That thing at the centre of the ship isn’t just the weapons system. It’s a complete controlling intelligence. Guest’s tuned in to the whole ship. He’s practically omnipresent.’ He looked at his hands, to see if there was any residue from the sphere, but they were clean. ‘I don’t understand. I told him the truth about the Cold. Why isn’t he listening?’

‘Because you’re using words,’ said Sam.

The Doctor looked up. Sam’s attention was fixed on the sphere now, her eyes fixed on the black surface as it pulsed and wriggled. ‘Sam…?’

‘The Remote don’t use words in their transmissions,’ Sam said. ‘They don’t even have narrative structures. They just use images. You’re being much too sophisticated.’

The Doctor kept shaking his head. ‘No. It’s too complex an idea. It’s a story. I don’t know how to communicate it any other way.’

‘You’re much too cerebral, you know that?’ said Sam. ‘Take me.’

It took the Doctor a few moments to work out that the last sentence hadn’t been directed at him. Sam had been talking to the sphere, and now it was responding to her, growing again, until its surface pressed against the roof of the TARDIS. Kode and Compassion both shrank back inside. The Doctor had to duck to stop the bottom of the sphere eating his head.

‘Sam!’ the Doctor yelled.

But it was, unsurprisingly, much too late.

* * *

Guest:

This must be how the loa feel, thought Guest.

The Cold stretched out across the body of the ship, its flesh bubbling under the surface, occasionally breaking through the cracks that three billion years of wear and tear had opened up in the hull. The Cold was the lifeblood of the ship, Guest understood that now, linking together all the systems, keeping the vessel alive throughout its long voyage. He still didn’t know how the Cold had come to be on board a Time Lord warship, but he guessed it had probably sought refuge there at some point during the journey, perhaps existing in both the material world and its own dimension at once.

Perhaps. The details weren’t important.

Now the Cold was beginning to tremble, its mouths gurgling Guest’s praises as they realised they were going to be set free. There was a kind of tension in the heart of the loa, something that pressed against every part of his nervous system. The walls of the prison, straining under the weight of the Cold.

(Several million years in the past, Rassilon was punching holes in space-time.)

Are you sure? the Cold asked.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Guest. ‘Don’t you want to be free?’

I have to ask if you’re sure. It’s part of the programming.

(The Time Lords were creating terrible weapons, preparing for war.)

‘All right,’ said Guest.

As he said it, the Cold brought back more impressions from across the ship, pushing the images straight into his nerve endings, without any need for the technology of the receiver. Guest felt the presence of enormous engines, of energy linkages