Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [138]
‘Words into ploughshares?’ asked the Doctor.
Sontar nodded. ‘Exactly that.’
‘Our races pride ourselves on our obedience, our single-mindedness. Now we are united in peace.’
‘Just like that?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Just so. There will be the largest demobilisation in the history of the universe, massive restructuring of the forms of our empires. But these are mere details.’
‘I wish you well.’
Sontar smiled and held out its claw, and the Doctor shook it. The Rutan unfurled a tentacle, which the Doctor squeezed.
Finally, General Sontar turned to the Rutan and offered it his claw. The Rutan grew a three-fingered hand and shook it.
‘The war is over,’ Sontar said. ‘Thanks to the Doctor. The Time Lords, of course, will man the checkpoints, guard the buffer zones around our territories. With Gallifrey maintaining the peace –’
The Doctor held up his hand. ‘No, no, no. Not our style at all. We’ll be happy to advise you, but we’re not going to watch over you. This peace is your responsibility, no one’s going to enforce it for you.’
‘I understand,’ the Rutan agreed.
Sontar was nodding thoughtfully. ‘We must return home, and begin our work.’
The Watchmen snapped to attention.
Voran nodded, pleased. ‘Good. Good,’ he said, as the Sontarans formed ranks behind their leader and the Rutan delegate and began marching from the room.
For a moment there was silence, the Doctor and Voran alone together.
‘Well,’ the Doctor said.
Voran paused. ‘And there is work to be done here. There will be a Council meeting at Eight Bells to discuss the aftermath of this affair. Your attendance will, of course, be expected.’ He swept from the room.
The Doctor closed the TARDIS door and put the key back in his pocket. He patted its side.
‘Well done, old girl,’ he said.
The Doctor knocked on Larna’s door. Her maid, Vrayto, opened it.
‘Councillor…’ she said, curtseying.
Behind her, the Doctor caught a glimpse of Larna. She turned, a broad smile on her face. The Doctor stepped past the maid and down into the room. He knew what the quarters in this part of the Citadel were like – this wasn’t too far from his own room. The main difference was the lack of clutter –
the shelves hadn’t been filled, let alone packed to bursting.
There were no pictures on the walls, and only a handful of ornaments and trophies lying around. There were a few crates full of things though.
Larna was looking over a large sheaf of paper.
Astronomical diagrams by the look of them – reports from the Astronomy Bureau. She was wearing a neat collarless jacket and tight trousers in Prydonian scarlet and orange. Her hair was loose, down her back.
‘You’ve been a Time Lord for a little while now,’ he said.
‘You really should have found the time to unpack.’ He rummaged in the crate and pulled out a psychology textbook.
‘I’m packing up.’
He laid the book down.
‘I got a new job. I got what I wanted.’
There were plenty of vacancies now, as the Time Lords shuffled around to fill the gaps left by the deaths and disappearances. Rumours were circulating about the possible new appointments to the High Council. Voran would no doubt be rewarding his cronies like Pendrel. But every promotion caused a further vacancy to form, more duties and titles to spread amongst the Time Lord aristocracy.
To avoid thinking about what he wanted to think about, the Doctor racked his brains, tried to imagine what they’d have given Larna. ‘Head of research somewhere? Something practical?’
She nodded. ‘The breach in spacetime caused a lot of damage. I’ve been appointed leader of the group that will clear up the mess left by the Effect. We’ll be locating and neutralising the after effects.
The Doctor opened his mouth and waved his hands helplessly. ‘Well done,’ he said finally. ‘That’s quite a responsibility.’
‘Well, most of the other candidates are dead or –’
The Doctor pulled back. ‘No need to be modest. It’s a high honour. You wouldn’t get the job if you