Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin [108]
‘What’s a Time Lord?’ Trix asked.
‘Long story, albeit one with a sudden ending,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’ll explain later. Now we have to contact the authorities. The United Nations. Get the message out, bring everyone we can back.’
‘No one really died?’ Fitz said. ‘You’re going to bring millions of people back from the dead? God, you’re cool.’
‘No,’ said the Doctor sadly. ‘It’s too late for some of them.’
‘But. . .
‘The Vore simply killed some people,’ he paused. ‘And many religions bury their dead quickly. Or cremate them.’
Trix recoiled, thinking of a bee dragged from its hive kicking and fighting.
‘There will have been accidents. Suicides. . . both among the dead and the living, if you get my meaning. Many will have died in the panic, all around the world.’
‘It can’t be many.’
‘It will be tens of thousands,’ the Doctor said. ‘We’re not done yet.’
The Doctor used Trix’s mobile to call the United Nations, working his way through various switchboards and layers of admin. He left Marnal’s house and made his way down the street as he talked. The signal was better outside.
Every time he was put on hold he would knock on a door, see who was home –
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living and dead – and where he could he would reunite them. Number Four got their children back, crying and a little sick from eating nothing but biscuits for the last few days. Mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, young and old. . . The Doctor alone could see them and have them return to the land of the living. The dead had almost all followed their friends or families around. Now that the living knew where to look the signs were everywhere – the notes left, the furniture moved, the emails and messages on answering machines.
It was half an hour before the Doctor had explained to the right UN person on the other end of the phone how his technique worked. An hour later, it was the main news on every TV and radio channel. Shortly after that some preachers, mediums and shamans showed up on the news channels saying they had always claimed this was possible. As Rachel noted, if only people like that could predict things before they happened instead of afterwards, the world would be a better place.
The total death toll would never be known.
And the Vore weren’t beaten yet.
It was going to take some time to explain the situation to the authorities and to give them advice. The British government was sending a car for the Doctor, who suggested that – instead of sitting around – Fitz, Trix and Rachel should load the contents of Marnal’s library into the TARDIS. The three of them grum-bled, but started work. Luckily for them, when the TARDIS returned from the Vore moon it had landed right in the middle of the library. The Doctor would have helped, he said, but he kept getting priority phone calls.
They were about halfway done with their task when the Doctor got off the phone once again.
‘The Vore have built a fortress – that was the word the analyst used. Every Vore in the world seems to be heading there,’ the Doctor announced. ‘It’s a termite mound, but one the size of a mountain. There are waves of Vore flying in that direction.’
‘Where?’ Trix asked
‘Somewhere called Guinea-Bissau,’ the Doctor answered. ‘I hate to admit it, but –’
‘West African coast,’ Fitz said. ‘Its chief exports are rice, coconuts, peanuts, fish and timber. Its population is about 1.4 million, half of whom are ani-mists, almost all the rest being Muslim. The national motto is Unidade, Luta, Progresso. It was called Portuguese Guinea in my day.’
The Doctor looked impressed.
‘He cribbed it off my laptop on the flight over from New York,’ Trix told him.
‘Seven hours,’ Fitz said. ‘You get a lot of time to read.’
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‘We’re going out there, joining HMS Illustrious and aliasing with the UN.
My reputation precedes me apparently.’ The Doctor smiled at the