Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [41]
The Magistrate swept past them, giving them the faintest acknowledgement. His black cloak swirled behind him like a living thing.
Peltroc’s shoulders were sagging, he’d had something on his mind for the last few hours.
‘What’s the matter, son?’ Raimor asked. ‘The surgeons fixed you up, didn’t they? You’re probably healthier than you were this time yesterday.’
Peltroc still didn’t smile. ‘Probably.’
‘What is it?’
‘When he was talking to Huran,’ Peltroc began, indicating the Magistrate, ‘he called me a hero. I’m not a hero.’
‘You acted bravely. Got two dangerous criminals, and you nearly caught the ringleader. You’ve certainly given us a lot to go on. That’s heroism.’
‘I killed two people. One of them was a woman.’
‘That was an accident.’
‘The other one wasn’t. I stabbed him in the back. That’s not heroic.’
‘He’d have killed you. And –’
The Doctor hurried between them, in those ridiculous clothes of his. He greeted them as he passed.
‘– and you never gave up, you never gave that masked lunatic what he wanted.’
Peltroc shook his head. ‘So why don’t I feel like a hero?
Why am I still shaking?’
A Technician was running towards them. A young lad with blond hair. Naturally, he took one look at them and concluded that Peltroc was the senior officer.
‘You have to come quickly!’ he blurted.
Raimor stepped forwards, tried to reassert any authority that he had. ‘Calm down, sir. I’m sure we can help you.’
‘I’ve just found a body,’ the Technician blurted. ‘In Chamber Epsilon. It’s Technician First Class Waymivrudimqwe. I think he’s been stabbed.’
The Doctor could have sworn that for a moment the guards on the Conference Room door weren’t going to let him in.
Just as the Doctor was on the threshold, Lord Nulquemper, a minor official with an obscure function, interposed himself.
‘Good morning, Doctor. Late again, I see.’
‘I am, Nulquemper, so if you could just –’ the Doctor tried bobbing around him, but the little man ducked across to block him.
‘The alien delegations arrived some ten minutes ago, a few minutes earlier than scheduled.’
‘Yes well, I’ll –’ the Doctor stared at the door. ‘Where are they?’
‘In the Conference Room.’
‘Who’s in there with them?’
‘ With them, my Lord Doctor?’
‘With. Them.’
‘No one, my Lord.’
The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but it took a couple of seconds for the words to arrive. ‘For ten million years, the Sontarans and the Rutans have killed each other on sight. To prevent that from happening here, they were supposed to convene in different antechambers and only to enter the Conference Room itself when I had arrived.’
‘Were they?’ Nulquemper said, his face the picture of innocence. ‘Oh, but you were late, weren’t you?’
‘There’s probably a war underway in there!’
The Doctor shoved him out of the way, much to Nulquemper’s alarm. He flung open the doors, not knowing what he would find.
The Rutan and the Sontarans were sitting at the triangular negotiating table. As there were ten Sontarans but only one Rutan, the arrangement looked a little unbalanced. General Sontar sat with his knees beneath the table, two advisers at either side. The remaining five Sontarans sat in a neat row near the back wall.
The Rutan just sat there, its underside half-draped, half-perched on the chair.
To a rather frosty silence, the Doctor took his seat. They had been sitting here like this for the last ten minutes. It was like a playground game, staring at each other, hoping the other child would blink first. Neither race had eyelids.
‘I am a few minutes late,’ he began.