Doctor Who_ Sleepy - Kate Orman [55]
‘Yes!’
‘You thought you were going to be killed!’
‘Yes!’
‘Then why did you go?’
‘Why are you doing this?’ pleaded Chris.
‘Did you want to die?’
‘No! I—’
‘Then why did you go?’
‘You don’t understand!’ Cwej was shrinking back against the wall. He had started to cry, again, tanj it. ‘It was so loud, and I—’
‘Answer the question!’
‘It was so loud! I couldn’t hear anything, I couldn’t see anything!’
‘Answer me!’
‘WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!’
Chris grabbed the Doctor’s shoulders and shoved him away. The little man stumbled backwards into the chair.
The Adjudicator leapt up from the gurney, looking shocked. The Doctor picked up the chair and threw it to one side. ‘ANSWER ME!’ he roared.
Chris’s face had gone completely white. ‘I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,’ he said, his voice tiny with fury. ‘But you’d better stop it. Right now.’
The Doctor just glared up at him. Chris’s head jerked to one side, away from those searing eyes. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ said the Time Lord.
Chris’s hands convulsed into fists. ‘Stop it.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes.’ Chris’s voice slid down into a whisper. ‘Yes. I did want to die. She had the right. She had the right.’
Without warning, his legs just wouldn’t hold him up any more. He crashed to his knees like a felled tree. The Doctor caught him awkwardly. After a moment, he put his arms around the young man.
Chris sobbed into the Doctor’s shoulder. ‘Don’t let Forrester see,’ he begged.
‘She’s not here,’ said the Doctor.
‘It hasn’t stopped. It’s still calling. Whatever it was, it’s still calling and calling and calling.’
‘Listen,’ said the Doctor firmly, before the boy could spiral into hysteria. ‘The universe is full of creatures that can get inside your soul. Things that try to take away the very things that make you who you are, who try to reshape you for their own ends, who want to eat you like a piece of fruit and spit out the seeds. It’s Turtles all the way down. Are you listening?’
Chris made a muffled affirmative sound, trembling, his face buried in the fabric of the Doctor’s jacket. Was this why Benny didn’t want children?
‘Listen, Chris. The Turtles don’t deserve your life. You mustn’t let them have you. I know them too well, Chris.
They’ve touched me, infected me, possessed me. I’ve felt their contamination. I’ve been on their altars. Listen to me, Chris. They don’t have the right.’
‘But She—’
‘Not even if they love you.’
‘But She—’
Not even if they’re a god.’
Chris was listening, his breathing slowing. The Doctor realized that the boy wasn’t shaking — it was him. ‘I shouldn’t have gone,’ gasped Chris. ‘I knew I shouldn’t go.’
‘It’s all right,’ soothed the Doctor. ‘It’s all right. You’ll remember. You’ll know next time.’
Chris uncoiled from him, sitting on the floor with his back to the gurney. The Doctor handed him his handkerchief, and Chris blew his nose loudly. ‘It’s still out there,’ he said,
‘whatever it really is. We have to find it.’
‘There’s something else,’ said the Time Lord.
Chris looked up at him.
‘The burning,’ said the Doctor. ‘You weren’t the only one.’
Thirty years ago
Benny was annoyed that her uniform fitted so well and felt so comfortable. She supposed it only made sense; after all, if anyone had the money for good functional clothing it would be the military. And besides, it wouldn’t do to be distracted by a loose thread when you were shooting at someone.
Though apparently the agents of the Serial/Spree Killers Investigations National Unit didn’t shoot anyone. Agent Forrester had stowed both their swords in the boot of the shuttlecraft. She had been surprised (and, Benny suspected, grudgingly impressed) to discover that Agent Summerfield already knew how to use one.
‘We’re entering Company space now,’ said Roz. Saturn loomed huge on the front screen, its edges vacuum sharp, the individual pebbles and crystals of its rings glittering harshly.
Apparently the National Unit cover was one that Roz and the Doctor had worked out long ago. There had even been a trapdoor