Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [11]
‘Ran says we’ve lost contact with Tusamavad and Arason too. How do you explain that?’
Grek said nothing, silently cursing his first officer’s big mouth. The silence from all three major cities on Betrushia had been something he’d rather have kept from his men. For now.
‘There’s always confusion at the end of any conflict, Maconsa. Remember Dalurida Bridge? We were so scared we almost shot our relief column.’
‘We were children.’
‘And what are we now?’ There was suddenly a hard, almost hysterical note in Grek’s voice. His blue eyes blazed in agitation. ‘Rotting in this hole for half our lives. There are more important things to do. And better ways to die.’
Maconsa looked down. There were pools of dark, muddy water forming on the planked floor. ‘You don’t have to try and convert me, Grek. There’s… there’s something else.’
Grek said nothing, merely fingering the collar of his tunic distractedly. Maconsa cleared his throat. ‘Have you heard what they’re saying?’
Grek turned. ‘Who?’
‘The men. Old Thoss. Everyone. There are stories filtering through.’
‘Stories? What stories?’
Maconsa began to walk slowly up and down the dugout, his boots clomping on the rotten floor. ‘They’re saying that there’s a reason why we’ve lost contact with Porsim and the other places. It was inevitable because it was written. The last book of the Faith. They’re saying that they have come back.’
‘Who?’
Maconsa met Grek’s gaze. Grek frowned, then laughed, then clapped a claw to his forehead. ‘You’re not serious? The Keth? You think the Keth have come back? Good God, man, I thought you were a scientist! How can you believe…?’
‘We all believed once, Grek, remember? In the Faith. In the Cause.’
‘But as you’ve just pointed out, we were little more than boys.’
Maconsa’s voice dropped to a low, grave rumble. ‘The Faith flourishes in wartime. We all know that. And the texts do say the Keth will return one day.’
Grek punched his pillow merrily. ‘Well, now I’ve heard it all. We’re on the verge of ending the longest conflict this planet’s seen in three centuries and all you can talk about is fairy stories.’
Maconsa ran a claw around the line of his jutting chin. There was four days’ growth of spiny hair on it. An unthinkable lapse once upon a time.
‘You’d be well advised to listen to fairy stories from time to time, Grek. There’s often a lot of sense in them.’
Grek turned hollow, tired eyes to his old friend. ‘What should I do?’
‘Show the men some leadership. They’re exhausted. Restless. Confused, even. They came out here to do a job and the politicians have denied them their victory. They need reassurance. If there’s going to be an armistice then for God’s sake let them all know. Tell them when they’ll be going home. Tell them it hasn’t all been for nothing.’
‘How can I say that,’ said Grek, his voice dropping to a whisper, ‘when I don’t believe it myself?’
Maconsa shuffled uneasily. ‘I’ve got to go. Think about what I’ve said. The troops will take refuge in anything familiar in times like this. Even old stories about the Keth. And if you aren’t up to the job, remember there are plenty of others willing to take your place.’
The old surgeon saluted, turned on his heel and, bending low, exited into the rain‐swilled trench.
* * *
3
The Eleventh Colony
The Doctor hummed a little tune as he strolled towards Ace’s room, feeling more relaxed and confident than he had in an age. Several recent weeks had been devoted to tidying up some of the loose ends he’d spent most of his lives ignoring. Loose ends tend to pile up and there comes a time when not even a Time Lord can avoid a little spring‐cleaning.
Now, with the chameleonic fluctuation sorted out he thought he might try a spot of redecorating. Shunt the interior dimensions about a bit. But all that could wait. First a little jaunt, and Bernice’s idea of visiting a pleasant old world like Massatoris sounded just the ticket.
Smiling happily, he knocked on Ace’s door and went in. The room