Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [72]
Larna had sent her message from in there, but it was firmly locked. The Doctor bent down, examined the floor at the base of the door. There were footprints leading from the other TARDIS, Industrial-looking boots, and a woman’s bare feet. The Doctor crouched down. The boots had been striding, the woman had been dragged along behind, he could tell that by the scuff marks in the dust.
He heard footsteps. The Doctor hid himself in a niche in the wall behind the two TARDISes, but was careful to allow himself a view of proceedings.
It was the President, flanked by two Watchmen, with two very minor noblemen in Technicians’ pinnies trailing after him.
‘I shall monitor the arrival of the Station from the Council Chambers,’ the President intoned. ‘You will stay here and monitor the power flow.’
‘Very good, Lord President,’ the elder of the two replied.
The President swept away, with the guards.
The two Time Lords didn’t return to their power room straight away. One of them looked right at the Doctor. ‘What’s that?’
The Doctor told himself not to flinch but the message got lost somewhere and he flinched. But the other Time Lord hardly looked up. ‘A couple of TARDISes,’ he groaned.
‘Here?’
‘Oh yes, they often go wandering. Specially down here near the Eye. Like moths to a flame.’
They stepped in, passing inches from the Doctor.
‘Well, we can’t leave them here, can we?’
‘No.’ He pulled back his glove to talk into his communicator.
‘Transduction Control, this is Lord Kwep. Please transduct two time capsules to their cradles.’
‘As you Wish, my Lord.’
Within a couple of seconds, the surfaces of the TARDISes began to shimmer, and they faded away. They’d been teleported back up to their cradles, over a hundred storeys above. The Rutan and General Sontar were still in there.
He’d have to get back to them. A more pressing problem was that the Doctor’s hiding place had been severely compromised.
Luckily, the noblemen had turned away, and were shuffling back to the power room. Once he was sure they were out of earshot the Doctor slipped out.
The Corridors around here were a labyrinth, a real mess.
Somehow over, the years, they’d escaped redecoration and rearrangement. This wasn’t a place for ceremony, it was a workplace, and so the logic ran that everything had to be gloomy, functional.
Clearly the President was down here for a reason: it must be the Effect. What was all that about a Station? Perhaps, after due deliberation the Council had made their projections, and they knew about the grey universe. They could have sent a team to investigate it. Perhaps not. He would have to warn them, but first he had to rescue Larna.
As if to emphasise that point, there were screams in the distance. A man and a woman screaming. The Doctor ran towards the sounds, feet pounding against the stone floor, turning the last corridor so fast that he nearly lost his balance.
The two nobles he had just seen were lying in the middle of the corridor, their blood staining the floor tiles. They’d been slashed with a long force blade. One had been stabbed through the hearts, the other had half his skull sliced away, Both were quite dead.
And although the Doctor was ashamed to think it, he was relieved that neither of them was Larna. She couldn’t be far away.
He heard her scream, she was just around the corner. He dashed towards them, heedless of his own safety.
He was just in time to see a power room door slam down.
Behind it he’d seen the control bank, a swish of grey cloak and a flash of white, the silk shirt of his that Larna had been wearing.
The Doctor slammed his fists against the shutters in frustration.
The Station didn’t slow down, it simply arrived.
The crew pulled themselves to their feet. No one was injured. Now it was over, the Magistrate reflected, he could look back on it as an exhilarating ride. The images he had seen were simply dreams, things of no significance now that they had gone.
There was work to be done.
‘Open the portholes,’ he ordered. ‘Prepare