Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [1]
Teams of the young were loading the last supplies aboard the ships, passing boxes and modules along in carefully orchestrated lines. In their designated dome, the flight crews would be putting on their uniforms, with the help of the necessary attendants and helpers. A phalanx of the Watch stood guard over proceedings. An army of engineers in protective garments swarmed around and inside the ships, checking every last detail. A small band of musicians had started playing a tune, and the Newborn had taken up the chant.
‘Sing about the past again, and sing that same old song.
Tell me what you know, so I can tell you that you’re wrong.
Just sing about the past, and the past’s where you belong.
Let’s travel to tomorrow, and learn a brand new song.’
Their voices drifted up on the wind. Two robed figures, a man and a woman, watched proceedings from their own balcony on the highest level of the Citadel. It was open to the elements, but the snows and the winds circled around them, not daring to intrude.
‘They are magnificent,’ Omega declared without needing to speak.
‘A dream come true,’ his wife agreed silently. She was slender, with green eyes. Beneath her fur cloak she wore a close-fitting bodice and leggings.
He towered over her, he seemed to be twice her size at least, an effect only magnified by his immense armour. It was bronze, studded with aluminium, with a lead breastplate. ‘I must go to my ship. We have to embark before nightfall.’
‘Good luck,’ she said wordlessly.
‘We have prophecy, so who needs luck?’ he laughed, hugging her. She nodded, and they parted. He strode away, leaving the woman alone on the observation balcony with her thoughts and memories.
Or so she had thought.
‘Who indeed?’ the little man said, breaking the silence.
She turned to face him.
‘How long have you been here?’ He stood in the middle of the tiled floor as though he always had been there.
‘Time is relative.’ He checked his pocket watch. ‘Or at least it might be from lunch time tomorrow.’
‘We know from the last line of the Fragment that the expedition will succeed. It is written.’ She turned back to face the ships. ‘It is what comes afterwards that is uncertain. But soon we will not just know the future, soon we will walk amongst it.’
‘The Fragment,’ he said, walking over to her, placing his hand easily on her shoulder. ‘I thought you must have guessed.’
She knew what he was about to say.
He spoke softly, deep sadness in his voice. ‘Rassilon needed to rally his people, he needed to justify his insane plan. You remember what it was like a decade ago, after the Curse. The Elders were looking to the past, they were giving up. All we had was our memory. All those golden ages and legendary adventures, all that infighting over which past glory was the best past glory. Gallifrey had died.’
‘Even without Rassilon, we would have lived for many millions of years. We are very difficult to kill.’
‘Oh yes. We’re immortal, barring accidents. But accidents happen, my Lady. We would have died in the end without Rassilon and his plan. Didn’t it ever occur to you how contrived the situation was? A workman clearing away the rubble of some fallen temple just happened to find a page from the Book of Prophecy. A single page, a little charred around the edges. Didn’t you think that was odd? Didn’t you wonder what had happened to the rest of the book? And it was such a useful page – the very one that told of the coming decade, showed the whole of Gallifrey that we would become the first of the Lords of Time. Even Rassilon’s enemies conceded that the future seemed to be quoting word-for‐word from Rassilon’s manifesto half the time.