Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin [103]
‘How?’ the Doctor asked.
‘I have a gun, remember?’
‘It didn’t do you much good last time,’ the Doctor reminded him. ‘There are probably ten billion Vore on this moon. Fire two shots a second, hit one every time, assume they don’t breed and that you don’t eat or sleep, and it’ll be the fifty-ninth century before they’re all dead.’
Marnal shook his head. ‘We only need to get the ones between us and the TARDIS. They didn’t react when I shot one before.’
‘Those are clearly on guard duty. I’m sure they’ll signal for reinforcements.
Wait!’
Marnal had drawn the maser, set it to kill. He fired towards the TARDIS, scattering the Vore, creating a path.
The Doctor was running behind him, pulling Rachel along. She was screaming.
A Vore dived at them, Marnal shot it down. They’d covered a hundred yards.
Rapid fire, aimed in front, just clearing the way. There were two obvious flaws in the plan. The first was that firing ahead left every other direction unguarded. Vore were sweeping around, on the ground, in the air and charging at them from behind. The other problem was that it was obvious where the three of them were heading. Reinforcements poured down to block the way to the TARDIS. Two hundred yards run, two hundred to go.
Very little time indeed to adjust the settings, but Marnal managed to lower the power and range, increase the spread. A wide-angle attack, close range, hitting everything within an arc of about fifteen degrees with Serious Indifference. This got them leaving, and even ones that hadn’t been hit seemed to get in the mood. Most were moving out of the way. One hundred yards to go.
By now, only one Vore remained in front of them. It stood with its back to them blocking the TARDIS door, but there was no indication it knew this was what it was doing.
Marnal raised his gun.
The Vore twisted around and sliced down with its claw, taking the muzzle of the gun and the tips of Marnal’s fingers off. The Vore lashed out again and Marnal yelled. He looked down to see its claw puncturing his chest, then being pulled out smeared in blood. He sank to his knees, surprised but not yet in pain. His chest felt warm. The Vore that had killed him simply scuttled off, clearly concluding its work was done. The Doctor was opening up the TARDIS
and pushing Rachel inside.
213
The Doctor came back, pulled Marnal up and half-dragged him inside the TARDIS. He ran to the console and shut the doors, then rushed back to Marnal’s side. Rachel was already there. ‘You were right,’ Marnal coughed wetly.
The Doctor eased him down. Rachel was examining him, making him comfortable.
‘There’s no need to do that,’ the Doctor said quietly.
‘I have to try.’ But her body language made it clear she knew it was hopeless.
‘Get the medical kit,’ the Doctor suggested. ‘First door on the left, down the corridor, second door on the right, down the corridor, third door on the left, down the corridor, fourth door on the right, top shelf of a white cupboard.
You can’t miss it.’
Rachel ran to get it.
‘I’m dead, Doctor.’
‘Yes.’
‘I meant it. You must restore Gallifrey. That has to be your mission.’
‘I will do everything within my power.’
Marnal managed a smile. ‘Then it is as good as done. I know now you really did lose your memories. You saved as much of Gallifrey as you possibly could, more than anyone else would have. I once dreamt that all Time Lords would be like you, that we would explore the universe once more, help those who needed it, destroy those who would destroy. You do good. . . but perhaps it is as well that you are one of a kind.’
He was fading.
The Doctor leant in: ‘You were my childhood hero,’ he whispered.
Marnal’s eyes widened, then closed.
Rachel returned to see that Marnal had already gone. She put the medical kit down and knelt beside him, holding his hand. She had seen once before what happened next.
Marnal’s skin glowed, faintly at first. His features bleached out and then there was no face, just the light, and within a minute even that had faded.
Nothing remained of him, not even the clothes.