Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [14]
He walked over to one of the planked walls where a map had been stretched out. It showed, in some detail, the Betrushian land‐masses; Ismetch‐controlled countries in red and the smaller, diminishing Cutch in green. In addition, the southern hemisphere was dotted with little black pins, like cloves studding an orange.
‘These represent communications breakdowns and sightings.’
‘Sightings?’
Ran shrugged. ‘We’ve had reports from various cities before losing touch. Things have been seen.’
Liso laughed humourlessly. ‘What kind of things?’
‘Nothing we can make sense of.’
Ran yawned wearily. ‘It’s just superstition.’
‘Of course,’ purred Ran. ‘But it’s getting worse. Rumours persist. Look at them, Liso.’ He gestured at the forest of black pins. ‘Something is heading our way. It’s like a cancer. Spreading…’ He seemed to lose himself in a reverie for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Spreading…’
Liso stood and joined the smaller man by the map. He lowered his voice so as to be out of the operator’s earshot. ‘But it must be the Cutch, Ran. I mean, who else could it be?’
Ran shrugged. ‘Who can say? But the Cutch? A demoralized people we’re on the point of defeating? How could they possibly do it?’
Liso stroked his empty socket nervously. ‘It’s a plot to undermine the armistice…’
‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’
Liso looked up, gazing suspiciously into Ran’s twitching face. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Ran looked away, a small smile playing on his thin lips. ‘Oh come now, Liso. I know that’s what you want. This war mustn’t end in diplomacy. It can’t be allowed to.’
Liso leant even closer, whispering anxiously, ‘But what can we do? And what does all this mean?’ He gestured angrily at the map.
Ran folded his arms. ‘We’ve lost contact with all the major cities in the south. If they don’t tell us to stop fighting then we’re quite within our rights to carry on, wouldn’t you say?’
Liso seemed to consider this, his good eye shining. ‘Go on.’
‘Something’s happening, Liso. There’s more to this communications breakdown than meets the…’ He glanced quickly at Liso’s empty socket. ‘Than… might at first appear. I have a feeling events are heading our way after all.’
‘But Grek…’
‘Grek is living on borrowed time. He was a gallant officer once. A great soldier. But different circumstances call for different attitudes. Different personalities.’
‘D’you mean Hovv?’
Ran cocked his head to one side and pushed a large black pin into the dot which Porsim made on the map.
‘Our old general has plenty of spirit left in him. Perhaps we might let him loose and… clear up a few of our problems along the way.’
He pushed the pin home and the dead city’s name was obscured.
Liso turned away.
‘We’ll have to find him first.’
* * *
The TARDIS stood at a vaguely crooked angle on the slopes of a green hillside, bright sunshine playing off her battered exterior.
Bernice sat with her back to the doors, smiling to herself. Massatoris had proven to be everything she’d hoped for. A small, friendly planet with a rich and fascinating culture.
The Doctor had brought them there during the ascendancy of the Eleventh Colony and seemed absolutely delighted in his choice, first examining a strange badge which had, as predicted, reappeared on the TARDIS door panel (something to do with Sage‐old ambivalence, she thought he had said), then running down to a crystal‐clear lakeside with his shoes and socks in his hand.
Bernice herself had wandered off, to be greeted by an extraordinarily friendly group of local herdsmen who regaled her with bawdy tales and copious amounts of glutinous red ale which she had spent the best part of the afternoon sleeping off.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. The shadow of a bird fluttered over her face and she blinked into wakefulness.
Shading her eyes, she could just make out Ace wandering alone through the forest. What was wrong with her?
The Doctor had waved aside all Bernice’s worries about their companion and concentrated on soaking his feet in the staggeringly