Doctor Who_ Sleepy - Kate Orman [103]
‘That’s... very restrained,’ she said, eyeing his suit. She tugged at her waistline, awkwardly.
‘Is it okay? How do you feel?’
She looked up into his eyes. ‘I feel old.’
‘Old-fashioned, you mean.’
‘No. I feel old. This is a young world, a new world, and I don’t belong here. I’m surrounded by people making a new beginning.’
Chris looked at the floor, at a loss.
‘I’m old enough to be your mother, you know,’ she said.
She pushed past him, down the TARDIS corridor. Chris watched her go, willing his beating heart to be still.
He caught up with her in the console room. ‘Look,’ he said. He scooted in front of her. ‘Listen. There’s, um, something I’ve been meaning to tell you.’
She flicked her wrist, and the fan opened out. She held it in front of her like a shield. ‘What is it, Chris?’
‘It’s just that...’ He took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m sorry about what happened. When you threw the grenade, and we all rushed you like that.’
‘It’s all right. I understand.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘How do you understand, when I don’t really understand?’ He tugged at his collar again, absently.
‘Why did you throw the grenade anyway?’
‘I said at the time. I thought if I destroyed that thing, the warship wouldn’t have any reason to attack us.’
‘But you must have realized that they knew we were carrying the memories...’
‘Don’t hassle me, Chris,’ she said, pulling the door handle. ‘I want to be in a good mood for this.’
He shut his mouth. She swept over to the doorway.
‘It hurt you,’ she said.
He looked at her back.
‘It hurt everyone: me, Benny, the Doctor. And now it’s dead.’ She smiled, showing her teeth. ‘Let’s party.’
Chris leaned on the console for a moment, eyes closed.
He shook his head. ‘It isn’t dead, you know,’ he whispered.
He followed her.
The Chaplain said, ‘Forasmuch as Cinnabar and Byerley have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Husband and Wife together.’
Byerley blew out a sigh. ‘Well, thank goodness for that,’
said Cinnabar.
There were three hundred people at the wedding. There were flowers everywhere, throughout the chapel, taped to the silver surface of the dome, in empty canisters and containers around the edge of the little field. Someone had landed a hovertractor smack in the middle. There were several people standing on it, madly playing musical instruments. The sound echoed about, pumped through tannoy speakers on poles.
Roz was sitting at the table, watching the dancing, picking at what was left on her plate. It was still just ration cubes and garden vegetables, but they’d built a still in the hydroponics dome. She was onto her third cup of the homemade hooch. Goddess! You could have stripped paint with the stuff. She downed the cupful at a gulp, feeling her eyeballs trying to melt.
Chris wandered past, his suit and shirt in some disarray.
He managed a clumsy bow. ‘You want to dance, ma’am?’ he beamed.
‘I’m not that drunk.’ She scowled. He smiled obliviously and was dragged back into the mass of moving bodies by the giggling bridesmaids. Zaniwe and Jenny waved at her before breaking into a spiffy foxtrot, the rhythm of which bore no relation to the music being played.
Roz’s fan had fallen into the cake. She pulled it out and was wiping icing off it when Benny and Cinn appeared out of the crowd, arms around each other. ‘Roz got engaged,’ said Benny, whose face was flushed with the rocket fuel. ‘Didn’t you? Even educated fleas. Show us the ring, go on.’
Cinn dropped Benny into a seat. The archaeologist burbled happily to herself. ‘I just wanted to say thank you,’
Cinnabar said, pumping Roz’s hand. ‘Thank you to all of you, for everything. Without you, none of this would have been possible.’
Roz looked around.
Benny said, ‘Do you suppose it’ll ever