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The Doctor fed the little machine credits and sent it rolling back towards the lifts. Roz was unlocking the door. ‘We’ve got two rooms, joined by a connecting door which stays open at all times,’ she said. ‘I’ve asked them to take out the Centcomp terminal.’

They went in. Roz locked the door and slung the key around her neck. The room was small, clean and grey. She told Iaomnet,

‘Just chill. We ought to have sorted ourselves out by noon tomorrow. After that you’ll be free to go.’

Iaomnet nodded, but didn’t say anything. Roz didn’t think the double-eye believed her.

Chris announced, ‘There’s one bathroom between the two rooms. If nobody minds, I’m going for a bath.’ The Doctors plonked themselves down on the curved lounge, switching on the 3D and flicking around until they found the news.

Iaomnet sat on one of the beds, and took out the book she’d filched from the liner’s library. Roz stretched out, put her arms behind her head, and let out a long sigh.

The evening dragged on like that until Zatopek grabbed hold of Roz’s heart and made it stop.

Roz had got up to get a drink out of the bar fridge. She had read the price list and had decided to drink the most expensive thing on it. She had just uncorked a miniature bottle of Dargolian Jus de Claymore ’56 when one of the Doctors said her name.

She turned around. One of them (the copy? the real one?) was looking at her, and the other one was looking at him.

Her heart stopped.

She felt it, felt the muscle fighting against the sudden violent grip that was crushing it. She dropped the bottle. For two seconds, she thought she was having a heart attack. It took two 160

more seconds to realize it was some other kind of attack. It took two more seconds for her to lose consciousness.

The grip was gone as she hit the floor. She heard shouts as she went under, wondering if her heart had started again.

Chris heard the Doctor shouting. He exploded out of the bath and ran into the other room without stopping.

Roz was on the floor, a pool of liquor spreading out from a bottle near her head. The two Doctors were struggling with each other. Iaomnet was standing next to the door. She kicked him in the stomach. The breath woofed out of him as he fell back and collided with the bathroom door.

Chris rolled to his feet as Iaomnet pulled the Doctors apart.

‘Which one are you?’ she said.

‘It’s me,’ said one of the Doctors. ‘Let’s get going.’

Iaomnet grabbed the other one. She had Roz’s pistol, jamming it into the Doctor’s collarbone. ‘He’s coming as well,’ she said. ‘I have to have something to show for this whole disaster.’

‘Yes,’ said the other Doctor. ‘But he’s coming with me. You both are.’

‘Excuse me,’ said the original Doctor.

Iaomnet shook her head. ‘Orders. Right from the top. He’s mine.’

‘You ought to listen to her, Emil,’ said the Doctor. ‘You don’t want an angry double-eye pursuing you.’

‘He’s Zatopek?’ said Chris.

‘How long have you known that, Doctor?’ said the copy.

‘You slipped when you started arguing the nuances of Retro-Objectivist philosophy with me. You knew more about it than I did.’

‘For God’s sake shut up, all of you,’ said Iaomnet. ‘Zatopek, you try anything, and my finger might just tighten on this trigger.

And then where will you be?’

‘We’ll argue about it later,’ said the copy Doctor. ‘Come on.

Chris hovered, not willing to tackle them while Iaomnet had that nasty little gun. Instead, he knelt down beside Roz. He couldn’t hear her breathing. He rolled her over and pressed two fingers into her throat. The door slammed.

161

‘Oh thank Goddess,’ he said. He lifted her, cradled her in his arms. ‘You’re all right, you’ll be all right.’

Zatopek left Iaomnet to guard the Doctor in the transit lounge while he went to buy their tickets.

Iaomnet had bought a long coat and a cowboy hat. She leant against the metaglass of the viewing wall, watching the area. It was 02.00, and the lounge was empty, except for a Ybarraculan curled under one of