Doctor Who_ The Room With No Doors - Kate Orman [71]
You must be tough as nails to have done this for over a thousand years.
I don’t think I can do it. I think maybe I’ve done about as much as I can. I’d really like to get back to being a hero. Find a job that needs doing, people who need protecting or a planet that needs to be freed or something, and stay in one place, in one time, dealing with one problem.
And try and be a hero again.
Roz would say there aren’t any heroes, just rookies and idiots. That everybody has flaws and weaknesses. Except you, I guess.
I didn’t mean that to sound so mean. But listen – I think the reason you’ve been trying to teach me so much is so you’re still around when you’re gone.
I don’t think I can be you. I mean, not just because I’m about four bazillion times less smart and experienced. I can’t be you. Nobody can be you. You’re stuck with it.
I mean, I like all the stuff you’ve been teaching me. You’ve given me so much – a place to live, all these adventures, all these new experiences.
You saved my life, and Roz’s, right back at the beginning.
142
It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it said what he wanted to say. He pulled out the ballpoint pen and added the last lines.
I really hate the thought of losing you. Maybe that’s the real reason I want to stop now, to go away. So I won’t be there when it happens. I don’t know. I hope not. I don’t want to jerk out on you, not if you need me.
So if there’s any way I can stop, if it’s OK for me to pick a planet and stay there, can we talk about it?
Yours sincerely,
Chris
A shadow passed overhead, and another. Chris looked up, for a weird moment convinced that there were planes in the sky.
A third dark shape moved through the air above the trees. It was the size of a small man, floating silently against the blue brilliance of the morning.
‘Oh cruk,’ said Chris, as the penny dropped. He headed back for the cart as fast as he could.
Penelope and Talker entered the clearing, looking around carefully.
The
Kapteynian held her strange weapon at the ready. Penelope was uncertain how wise it would be to actually fire the thing in the woods, given its effect on the timber buildings of Hekison, but for the moment it was their only protection.
The cart stood to one side of the clearing. The horses were tethered to different trees, grazing peacefully. There was no one here.
‘I wonder what the story is here,’ Talker clucked. ‘Where’s Ke Risht hair boy got himself to?’
‘Talker –’ began Penelope. ‘Wait a moment. Do you have a name? “Talker”
sounds as though it’s a title.’
‘Names, yes, most of the species on my planet use personal names. We birds don’t, though. I was called Gardener. Now I’m Talker because I do the talking.’
‘Don’t you find it confusing? I can’t imagine life without some way of dis-tinguishing between people.’
Talker shrugged. ‘I know who I am.’
The Kapteynians had spent an hour flying over the forest., taking careful note of the lie of the land. Penelope had dispatched Aoi to report on their progress – his lord’s army was very visible, waiting on a nearby ridge.
‘No pod,’ Talker announced.
‘Mr Cwej must have taken it with him. Perhaps he’s even reached the monastery by now.’
143
‘Why would he leave this?’ Talker slapped a wing against the side of the cart. ‘He can’t lift that pod, not even big muscly hair boy.’
‘A good question,’ said Penelope. ‘Perhaps someone met him here and helped him on his way. The cart could be a diversion of some kind.’
‘If he’s around the place,’ said Talker, ‘my lot will find him.’
Penelope stood on tiptoe and looked into the cart. Her time conveyance! It seemed to have survived its rough journey.
‘This is it, is it?’ said Talker, behind her.
‘It is. The Doctor considerably modified it, but I have the plans here, with his revisions.’ Penelope extracted the rolled-up papers from her leather satchel and spread them out on the seat. ‘Good grief, the man’s handwriting is virtu-ally illegible.’
Talker clucked