Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [76]
‘Yes,’ muttered the Doctor under his breath, ‘I was rather afraid it might be.’
‘I’m under no illusions about your enmity, Doctor,’ hissed Yong. ‘I’m allowing you to live because, quite frankly, I’m bored. It’s been so easy for so long. I’d like to see how far you can get in thwarting me before my inevitable victory.’
The Doctor regarded him steadily. ‘Very well.’
He turned to the vast viewing screen which dominated the bridge. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about, anyway. This planet you’re about to reach has a few teensy‐weensy problems of its own and I think, on balance, it might be wiser to move on somewhere else.’
Yong swung round, his cloak swooping over De Hooch’s head and completely concealing him. ‘Impossible, Doctor. The will of Saint Anthony cannot be changed. Besides, we’re coming in to land.’
He glanced down at the strange bulge in his purple robes. ‘De Hooch, what are you doing down there?’
Huffily, the dwarf extricated himself from Yong’s robes and smiled sheepishly. ‘Should I escort the Doctor to his quarters for the remainder of the voyage, Magna?’
‘No, no. Let him run loose. It amuses me to have some opposition.’
‘But Magna…’
‘Do it!’ spat Yong. De Hooch marched a thoughtful Doctor off the bridge. Yong turned back to the screen. ‘Now, time to blow up a few more of those silly ring things.’
He crossed to the navigational consoles. ‘In the name of Saint Anthony, let us bring His mercy and terrible wrath to…’
He looked down irritably at the nervous navigator. ‘Dear me, what is this planet called again?’
* * *
‘Ace? Ace, wake up.’ The Doctor tapped his companion lightly on her cheek.
She blinked rapidly, still frightened. ‘Doctor? How long have I…?’
‘Never mind. Listen, Ace, we’ve got to get off this ship. It’s no use trying to talk to this lot. They’re all completely mad. And things are too far advanced on Betrushia for us to get stuck here.’
‘What do we do?’ Something of Ace’s old determination seemed to be leaking back into her exhausted body.
The Doctor sucked his fingers thoughtfully. ‘We’re coming in to land, according to the Magna. He’s giving me enough rope to hang myself but I might knot some sheets together instead, if you get my drift.’
‘No.’
‘No, well, never mind. The point is, I can’t do anything till we’re off this ship. And the problem is you, really.’
‘Me?’
‘Well, you’re officially one of them, even if you have resisted their conditioning.’ He ran his hand playfully over Ace’s scalp. ‘I’m sure I can think of something.’
‘As soon as you get any brilliant ideas,’ said a voice from the doorway, ‘do let me know.’ De Hooch raised his blaster and smiled alarmingly. ‘I’m simply dying to hear them.’
* * *
Yong’s ship ploughed through the remains of further Betrushian rings, scattering the debris into luminescent clouds as it made planetfall.
Inside, Yong walked grandly around the ship’s bridge.
‘Report from the scout vessel?’ he enquired.
The helmsman pressed a row of buttons and read off the screen: ‘Scout‐ship reports all major cities destroyed, Magna. They’ve landed near to some sort of concentration of native life. Awaiting your arrival and further orders.’
‘Excellent, excellent. Take us down.’
The mothership slipped through the heavy blanket of Betrushian cloud, untroubled by the sheet lightning crackling through the sky.
Flashing data shone in Yong’s eyes as the ship roared over the jungle towards the Ismetch base. The scout‐ship, once identified, filled the screen, thousands of navigational calculations scrolling over its image.
On Betrushia, Miller and Martino looked up in undisguised awe as the immense mothership, which dwarfed even their own, flattened the jungle and came to rest in a pall of vapour.
For a time, wreathed in steam, the two ships stood side by side in silence, like watchful black beetles.
Then, with a roar of power, the bulkheads glided open and a swarm of the mothership’s Chaptermen spilled out. At their