Doctor Who_ Set Piece - Kate Orman [15]
Benny’s remembered hair had grown out, become blonde, dark roots peek-ing through the straw-coloured strands. She stared through the hologram cube, sucking on a slice of lime.
‘How many dimensions?’ Ace asked.
‘Just four,’ said the Doctor, his eyes sharp and bright over the dark scar on his face. ‘It charts the cafe’s appearance through the continuum. A single space-time event, repeated over and over at different points and epochs.’
30
‘Why?’ said Benny.
‘There are a handful of occurrences which could cause such an effect. All of them have potential ramifications for the entire cosmos. Look.’ He made another magician’s pass over the hologram, and a line jumped from point to point inside the cube, electric blue.
Ace squinted at the diagram, following it. Each four-dimensional point represented an occurrence of the cafe. To people living in three dimensions, moving through time in a linear fashion, the cafe’s repetition would be invisible.
But not to time-travellers –
‘The disappearances don’t form a pattern unless you’re looking at them in four dimensions,’ said the Doctor, echoing her thoughts. ‘Many in the one location, but spread out at great intervals of time. Or many disappearances at once, but scattered through the galaxy.’
‘Something punched through space and time,’ she said.
‘It burrowed
through it.’
‘Leaving a trail of cafes behind it,’ said Bernice.
‘Like breadcrumbs in the forest,’ said Ace. She traced the line with her finger.
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor, and there was a touch of indignation in his voice. It was like coming back to the car-park to discover someone had left a dent in your fender. How dare someone muck about with his universe? ‘Now,’ he said, ‘here’s a plot of the spaceship disappearances.’
The electric blue line vanished, and was replaced by a livid green line. Not the same track as the cafe, but dead straight through four dimensions. Deliberate. Artificial.
Ace met the Doctor’s eyes over the cube. There was a brilliant spot of blood running down out of his nose, tracing its own straight line across his skin. He didn’t seem to notice. ‘There’s a fracture in the universe,’ said Ace.
‘Someone’s using that, that fracture, like a secret passageway,’ said Benny,
‘stealing people.’
‘Well!’ said Ace, pushing her drink away. ‘Let’s go get stolen.’
She had never smelt water before. Water had no smell or taste. Drinking the pure stuff, the recycled water given to soldiers in space, was like drinking metal polish; on the better ships ions were added to convince your tastebuds there was no flavour.
But she smelt water now, nearby, making her stomach rumble and cramp.
In the end, unable to stand, she rolled. Sand got in her hair and inside the beige coveralls as she rolled slowly over the stony ground, keeping her elbows close to her body. It felt ridiculous, but it was movement.
31
She came to the edge of a drop. The world continued to spin even when she had stopped, her guts spasming. She bit her teeth together and tried to see down the hill.
Down the slope was a patch of even ground. It was rocky, white and red, tiny evil-looking plants elbowing their way through cracks in the dry soil.
There was a pool of water in the middle, creamy mud built up around the edges. She let herself half-slide, half-roll down the hill until she fell with a splat into the mud.
There was more mud than water. She didn’t care. She let her coveralls get soaked in the ooze around the pool while she sucked at it, splashed filthy water onto her face and hair, mud smearing her fingers.
When she looked up, there was a lioness watching her from across the pool.
‘Oh shit,’ said Ace.
Her head whirled with useless advice. Run away. Don’t move. Scream for help. They can smell fear. Instead she found herself staring at the animal across the water, taking in the smooth rolling of muscle under her tawny skin, the elegant shape of her