Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [2]
Ace pulled on her headset.
‘You’re a hard woman, Gatti.’
‘Damn right! So get to it.’
Ace drained the last of her tea and hoisted her rucksack back on to her shoulders.
The Doctor peered at her from under the brim of his hat.
‘Do you think that we’re about ready?’
Ace nodded.
‘I’m up for it if you are, Professor.’
The Doctor tapped his lips thoughtfully. ‘Then I can’t see any reason to delay. We’ll go in tonight.’ He leant back in his chair,‘If you’re not going to be too tired, that is.’
Ace grinned. ‘Raring to go as always, Professor.’
Her communicator buzzed again, Gatti’s impatient voice in her ear. Ace crossed the plateau and began to scramble up the far wall. The first part of the slope was gentle and she climbed quickly. She peered back down at the plateau, but the picnic table – and the Doctor – had gone.
Part One
Chapter One
In the swirling dimensional maelstrom that is the time vortex, a tiny shape tumbled and span, lost amongst the impossible currents of past, present and future as they spiralled backwards and forwards through infinity. The lamp on its roof blinking in sedate rhythm, the TARDIS rolled and pitched, driven by the time winds, its deep blue surface sparkling as the time eddies swirled around it.
Inside the TARDIS the glass cylinder of the time rotor rose and fell steadily, keeping time with the throb of the engines buried deep within the ship. The console room was lit by a deep warm glow, the deep round indentations that peppered the walls shining with a soft inner light.
The Doctor sat in a high-backed chair in the corner of the control room, reading. Books, bits of electronics and furniture from a variety of periods and planets lay scattered untidily around him. An elaborate train set wound around the legs of his chair, vanishing through an open door into the depths of the time machine. With a toot of whistles a model of the Flying Scotsman appeared through the doorway, clattered around the console room and vanished again.
The Doctor put down his book, checked his pocket watch and beamed. ‘Right on time.’
He turned another page of his book and reached for the tall elegant wineglass that sat on a small chess table next to him.
He took a sip of the sea-green wine and gave a deep sigh of contentment. Coralee wine kept well. He’d been keeping it for a special occasion, and the last few days had been so quiet that he’d actually had a chance to cook dinner for himself and Ace.
He cocked his head on one side. He could hear music drifting from the open door. Ace was in the gym, he could hear her singing to herself.
He settled back in his chair and started reading again. It was rare that he got the chance to get so relaxed, rare that he got the chance to spend any time at home. A smile drifted across his face. He placed the book on his lap and let his gaze wander around the console room.
Home.
He couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else. He had always referred to his stolen time machine as home, but it was only since his tussle with the Master in Perivale – only since the planet of the Cheetah people – that he had really believed it. Not the TARDIS. Not the Ship. Home.
He closed his eyes, listening to the hundreds of thousands of sounds that the console made. He knew every one of them, could tell in a moment if there was something wrong.
A sudden frown crossed his brow.
There was an unfamiliar sound. Not from the TARDIS, nothing wrong, but...
Putting his wineglass down the Doctor pulled himself out of his chair and crossed to the console. His hands darted over the controls. He examined a read-out, then pressed his ear to a small speaker grille.
He straightened.
‘Odd.’
Making a sudden decision the Doctor scampered around the hexagonal control column and began punching at controls, dropping the TARDIS out of the vortex.
The hum of the control room changed in pitch and the Doctor crossed back to the speaker grille, listening again.
‘Yes,’ he murmured to himself. ‘I was right.’
He reached for a switch and the scanner screen slid open