Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [7]
Caldwell sat at the front of the compartment, watching Christian carefully. He remembered what he had done, he remembered seeing the arrest on the news. Caldwell was nineteen at the time, in his first year at university. He'd sat in the common room with everyone else in his hal , and seen every second of the coverage via the zoom lenses of The Passing Parade. This was the closest that the prisoner had got to fresh air since his conviction shortly afterwards. Knowing what he did, Caldwell was not comfortable sharing a confined space with Christian.
The helicopter lurched, sending Caldwell sprawling, despite his harness.
The pilot was cal ing something into his radio: 'May Day! We're losing altitude. There's a problem with one of the engines. May Day!'
'Let me help, Caldwell, old chap.' The prisoner was leaning over Caldwell, shouting over the noise of the engines,
'I'm a pilot.'
'One of the best,' Caldwel replied. It was a split-second decision: 'Let him out of those cuffs, he's our only hope.'
The guards looked at each other. The cabin lurched again, pitching them al over.
'Do it!' Caldwell shouted. He looked straight at the prisoner. 'If you try anything, Christian, you're dead, do you understand?'
The prisoner nodded. The guard handcuffed to him undid the lock, releasing his wrist. Christian clambered across to the cockpit, the guards parting to let him through.
He didn't bother clipping in his harness. 'What's the rate of fall, skipper?'
The pilot didn't have time to be wary of him. 'Ten metres a second. We're currently at one seven five metres.'
'That's about five hundred feet, right?' he grinned. He checked the oil pressure and rate of fuel loss.
The engine missed a beat, then another.
9
'Can you do anything?' Caldwell shouted.
'I can keep her upright.'
'Anything else?'
'I can try to crash this crate without killing us all. Hold on, everyone!'
***
Benny was up in her room, unsure what to think.
She towelled herself down, and fished around in the wardrobe for her chinos and a black T-shirt. Then she moved over to the window, careful y unlatching it. She knelt on the bed, leaning her head out. The Doctor was sitting on her garden chair, totally immersed in some cartoon on the portable TV. The picture was in colour, she realised. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and would occasional y sip from it. He didn't seem to have a care in the world. He hadn't asked after Jason, but Benny sensed that he already knew that she hadn’t seen her husband for months.
That had been the same time she’d last seen the Doctor and a lot had happened since then. Benny wondered if Chris had left before or after the Doctor had regenerated.
On Heaven, in her tent, the Doctor had pleaded with her. Ace had just left him. His voice was trembling and urgent at the same time. He couldn't travel the universe fighting monsters alone, he had told her: the magic dragon couldn't be brave without the little boy. Without his companion, he had nothing to be brave for. In that moment, Benny had seen the real Doctor. Behind all the tricks, behind al the plans and dark expressions and all his righteous indignation there was a little man who thought the universe ought to be a friendlier place. Dorothee had never seen that, or if she had she hadn't understood it. She'd have laughed: 'Yeah, sure, Professor, everything would be great if we were all nice to each other. Very profound'. It's easy to be cynical, but it's hard to be nice. The Doctor had been a man who once in a while needed protecting from the universe he was protecting. The Doctor needed looking after, he wasn't carefree. And he certainly didn't have sex appeal and boyish charm.
And now that little man had gone forever. The new Doctor looked