Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [85]
‘If that’s our only chance,’ Bernice said quietly, ‘then we’re in a pretty sorry state.’
The knife flashed in the half-light of Daph Yilli Gar’s cell. A line of pain seared across his flesh.
‘An old-fashioned device,’ a human voice said, ‘but then, I am an old-fashioned man. You may find this difficult to believe, but I am over a thousand years old.’
Flash. His scream tore at his throat as the tip of the blade drew a fiery line along his strapped-down tail, just above the point where they had burned the number in. It wasn’t just the pain that made his mind squirm, it was the knowledge that there was another living creature near him and he could do nothing about it.
‘I remember when there were no aliens . . . ’
Flash. Great explosions of agony bloomed in his mind.
‘. . . no Empires . . . ’
Flash. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that wasn’t slicked in blue blood. He tried to push the pain away, pretend that it was all happening to someone else, a long way away, but the human was too good. Too skillful with the sharp blade.
‘. . . nothing but money, and pain. It’s comforting to know that some things never change, isn’t it? Now, shall we have another go at those questions?’
Daph Yilli Gar tried to nod, but the blessed green light spread like a salve across his body and he was elsewhere, another time, another memory.
‘Okay,’ the Doctor said hurriedly, ‘I will admit that killing is sometimes justified. I’ve killed – I’ve been responsible for – the deaths of intelligent beings before. I regret that, but it was necessary.’
Pryce leaned forward, his bottomless eyes wide. ‘How did you kill them?’
Sweat trickled down the Doctor’s nose. ‘Later, perhaps. The important thing is, I . . . they died in order to save others.’
‘What gave you the right to make that decision?’
Pulling the silk handkerchief from his jacket pocket, the Doctor mopped at his brow. He could say, ‘The White Guardian,’ but that wasn’t a real answer.
The Doctor hadn’t realized that the Guardians were interested in him for a long while, and even then the White Guardian had been very careful not to actually condone what the Doctor did. He – it – just took advantage of it.
‘I . . . I suppose nobody did. I repeatedly found myself in the right position at the right time to make a difference. I balanced up the eventual outcomes, and decided that the death of one person, or a handful of people, was worth it if it kept more people alive.’
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‘In your opinion.’
‘Yes. In my opinion.’ He removed his jacket. Pryce’s face seemed to shimmer in the heat. ‘Backed up with experience.’
‘But you didn’t actually know, did you? You were just guessing. You might have been wrong.’
In his mind he was suddenly standing in a rubble-strewn corridor, deep beneath the surface of Skaro. He held two wires in his hand, half an inch apart. ‘Just touch these two strands together and the Daleks are finished. Have I that right? Some things might be better with the Daleks. Many future worlds will become allies just because of their fear . . . ’
‘Do I have the right?’
‘Yes,’ the Doctor whispered into the silence of a million accusing ghosts, ‘I might have been wrong.’
‘And if I kill you now,’ Pryce continued, fingering his impromptu blade, ‘then all those people whose deaths you will go on to be responsible for will live. If the total number of people whose deaths you will cause outweighs the number whose lives you will save, does that mean that I have the right to kill you here and now?’ His fingernails were making small scratching sounds on the plastic seat cover. ‘By your logic, it does.’
He didn’t appear to be sweating at all; the dome of his bald head was completely dry, even though the Doctor’s silk shirt was wet against his skin.
‘Everybody dies eventually.’
Pryce’s voice was hypnotically persuasive.
‘What does it matter if I shorten their lives that little bit further? What do I rob them of? What do I rob you of if I kill you now?’
‘But by shortening –’ The Doctor coughed to clear his throat. ‘– by shortening somebody’s life, you rob them of