Doctor Who_ The Fall Of Yquatine Part 10

He walked up to her. 'I'm afraid I find your att.i.tude very sad.'

She looked him up and down in clear disgust. 'What are you, an Anthaurk apologist?'

'No, I'm merely open to all sides of the argument and I don't like to jump to conclusions.' He fished in his pocket. Ah, there they were. Desperate measures, but... 'Would you like a jelly baby?'

She looked at the proffered sweet with a sneer. 'You're crazy.' A flicker of interest in her cold blue eyes. 'Who are you?'

He popped the sweet into his mouth. A green one. Nice. 'No, who are you you?'

She scowled and raised her rifle. 'Don't try anything stupid.

The Doctor never let his eyes leave hers as he spoke. 'What are you, twenty? Brought up on, let me see, Beatrix. Probably an orphan. Joined the army because you wanted to belong to something.'

Trooper Bella Otterley let out a long breath. 'No, no, no, and no. I'm twenty-nine, I grew up on Luvia, my parents are tax inspectors and I joined the army because I like uniforms, big guns and s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps.'

The Doctor smiled his widest and most unnerving smile. 'Big guns, eh?'

He held her gaze, stepping closer, closer, aware that the rifle was pointing at his midriff and when he was close enough he reached out and grabbed the end of the rifle, jerking the barrel up towards the ceiling. 'That's not a very big gun!' he yelled.

'Hey!' cried Trooper Otterley. She fired once, a laser bolt sizzling towards the ceiling.

The Doctor gave her a shove, tripped her up and ran from the observation gallery, closing the door after him and fusing the lock with his sonic screwdriver.

Panting with relief, he hared off along the corridor. Hopefully things would be in too much disarray for anyone to notice him. Realising that haring along would draw unwelcome attention to himself, he slowed to a stroll, stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and walked off casually, humming a song about a man who often dreamed of trains, looking for somewhere to poke his nose in.

President Vargeld was alone with his thoughts of Arielle.

Memories of her crowded in on him. He remembered her eyes, her watchful, wary eyes. They were dark brown with large pupils. Mysterious eyes, enchanting eyes. She had always seemed to be on the lookout, keeping a barrier between herself and the outside world. He remembered when they'd meet, and her eyes would lose their watchful expression, her gaze would soften and welcome him into her. It was like visiting a private world they shared together.

He remembered the night he was cast out of that world. It had been the night he'd asked her to marry him. She'd looked horrified at first, as if he'd confessed to some crime or perversion. Then her eyes had grown distant, watchful again, and she'd refused him. And then... then he had felt cast out of paradise. He so badly wanted to be back there, in that special place they'd shared. He wanted to see her, to call her name and for her to turn around, surprised, her face lightening with a smile and her eyes, her beautiful eyes He choked back a sob, a hard feeling in his throat. And then a crus.h.i.+ng feeling of guilt. He had seen his home planet destroyed, but he had thoughts only for Arielle. The idea that she was still alive, somehow, somewhere down on Muath, tormented him to the exclusion of all else duty, responsibility, a sense of proportion. He thought of his family, his mother, father and sister in the big old house at Farleath. They were certainly dead, like everyone else on Yquatine. Why couldn't he feel anything for them?

He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for his mind to slow down and settle. Waiting for his sense of duty to a.s.sert itself.

But he settled instead on Arielle.

It was no use. He knew what he had to do.

Take me back He sat up. He was in a private room, windowless and warm and safe, with guards on the outside. But he was feeling better now. He stood up. Still a bit light-headed, and with a sick feeling in his stomach. But fit enough. Surely he could go now. h.e.l.l, he was President, he could do what he liked.

He found his clothes in a cabinet by the bed. He smiled grimly. His coat of office was still on Yquatine what was left if it which meant he had to wear his pilot's uniform, a more practical and d.a.m.n sight more comfortable outfit. He dressed quickly.

The Doctor held his frowning forehead against the cool gla.s.s of the viewport. A fleet of six Anthaurk s.h.i.+ps were heading out, spiky slabs bristling with weapons, the glow of their engines receding like fireflies against the vast night of s.p.a.ce. Yquatine was out there somewhere, its boiling blackness invisible, shrouding it from view.

The Doctor turned away, feeling the usual slow burn of anger that came when he was confronted with acts of genocide. Whatever the Anthaurk had used to destroy Yquatine. it had been totally devastating. Now they were going to check on their handiwork. Well, maybe it was time he got down to the stricken planet himself.

He hurried away from the viewport, intent on finding Lou Lombardo. He'd been a useful ally in the past, and it would he good to have him around.

As he rounded a corner, he collided with someone in a black and silver uniform.

The Doctor stepped back, gus.h.i.+ng with apologies which stuttered to a halt when he realised who he'd b.u.mped into.

The President.

He looked his face pale, unshaven, forehead s.h.i.+ning with perspiration. His eyes were pale blue under dark brows and they had a distant, distracted look. 'Who the h.e.l.l are you?'

'I'm the Doctor.' said the Doctor. 'I was at your inauguration.'

President Vargeld looked at him blankly. 'I I don't remember.'

Of course. He'd been someone else back then. Oh well. The Doctor smiled and extended a hand. 'Nice to meet you again.'

The President's hand was hot and clammy. The Doctor leaned in for a closer look at his eyes. 'Are you all right?'

President Vargeld shook the Doctor's hand away, made to shove past him. 'Out of my way.'

The Doctor grabbed his arm. 'Where do you think you're going?'

President Vargeld pulled away. 'I've got to get back find her.'

'Find who?'

The President blinked. 'Arielle.'

The Doctor had never heard the name before and said so.

'She's on Muath, she's still alive, I know it.'

Muath was Astatine's sole satellite, a small moon with a few scientific installations. 'You've got to get back... so you were on Muath just before the attack started?'

President Vargeld shook his head: No, I was on my way there to see Arielle, try to talk her round.'

'And your s.h.i.+p got damaged, plunged towards the sun.' He patted the Yquatine leader on the back, making him stagger. 'You're lucky to be alive!' Then he caught the President's gaze, held it. 'What did you see out there?'

President Vargeld grimaced, shook his head. 'Things...'

The Doctor widened his eyes, trying to see into the man's mind. 'Be more specific.'

'Black... things...'

'Anthaurk s.h.i.+ps?' the Doctor prompted.

The President looked away. 'Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.' He began to panic, trying to push past the Doctor. 'Out of my way! I've got to find her!'

He shoved past the Doctor and staggered away down the corridor.

The Doctor stared after him, thinking furiously. The best thing would be to get the poor man back to sickbay. But no. He'd seen something. Better to go with him now before he got bogged down in Senate meetings and bureaucratic whatnot.

He caught up with the Yquatine leader. 'Let me come with you.'

President Vargeld stopped in his tracks. 'Why?'

The Doctor stepped up to him. 'I want to know what happened to Yquatine. And so do you. Let me help you.'

The President nodded. 'OK. Follow me.'

They picked the pride of the station's fleet: a stealth s.h.i.+p manufactured in the s.p.a.ceyards of Beatrix. A thirty-metrelong needle, its s.h.i.+ning hull reflecting the chilly white lights of the s.p.a.cedock, fitted with powerful ion engines and the most advanced s.h.i.+elding techniques yet developed. There had been a bit of bother at the s.p.a.cedock, but the station staff really had no choice but to sign the s.h.i.+p over to the President.

Now the Doctor and Stefan Vargeld sat side by side in the c.o.c.kpit as the s.h.i.+p lanced out from the crescent of Aloysius Station. The President seemed more relaxed, more in control now that they were s.p.a.ceborne.

'So, you were at my inauguration,' said President Vargeld. 'Still can't remember you. Who exactly are you?'

'A traveller,' said the Doctor. 'And a friend.'

President Vargeld still looked unsure, but didn't ask any further questions. This suited the Doctor fine.

After a few hours of uneventful travel, during which the President filled the Doctor in on some aspects of Minervan history, they neared Yquatine. The Doctor gazed at the black sphere. Was it his imagination, or had it grown larger?

'Muath,' said the President, pointing.

A smaller patch of darkness was...o...b..ting the main ma.s.s of Yquatine. President Vargeld guided them towards it. The Doctor flicked switches on the console, bringing all the s.h.i.+elds on line.

The small beclouded moon grew larger and larger in the forward screens until it blotted out the stars. And then they were in total, solid blackness which billowed against the screen like oil.

President Vargeld was staring at it, mesmerised.

The Doctor studied the readout in front of him. 'Seems to be some sort of dense gas, composed of highly toxic and corrosive elements. Traces of sulphuric acid, phosphorous and. er. substances this s.h.i.+p's computer has never heard of: The President worked the controls, still staring.

The Doctor realised how unstable he was, how dangerous it was bringing him here. Perhaps a dose of reality might help.

'You know there's very little chance of anything surviving out there,' he said gently.

'I'm taking her in to land,' said the President. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

The Doctor had planned on taking samples of the atmosphere, not landing. 'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'

'Why not?' snapped the President.

Warning lights began to flicker on the console. Some of the stuff was penetrating the s.h.i.+elds. 'Because I don't advise it,' retorted the Doctor. 'The s.h.i.+elds aren't going to hold for much longer.'

'We're landing. I must find her.'

'Listen to yourself! You're not rational. We can't land here!'

'I'm doing it, whether you think I'm being rational or not.'

'There's no point in throwing your life away,' said the Doctor slowly and calmly. 'We just take a few samples and then leave.'

'Whatever,' muttered the President, intent on guiding the s.h.i.+p slowly down through the churning atmosphere.

The Doctor sighed, and let him get on with it. With zero visibility President Vargeld had to rely on sensors, and the Doctor didn't want to distract him in case they crashed. There was a b.u.mp as they landed and then the President unstrapped himself and went to the back of the s.h.i.+p.

The Doctor followed. 'You're not going out there!'

President Vargeld was already donning a s.p.a.cesuit. 'I most certainly am.'

The Doctor grabbed him by the shoulders. 'Listen to me! There's nothing out there but that corrosive black gas. Nothing can survive in that! If you don't believe me, check the computer!'

The President's eyes widened, as though he'd just seen something horrible over the Doctor's shoulder. 'She's dead. Oh, she's dead.' His voice broke with pain, and then the tears came.

The Doctor held him as he cried, his body shuddering with sobs. He was trying to form words, but the Doctor shushed him. He knew the man had to let out all his sorrow. Humans were frail things, especially their minds. They weren't built to cope with the true nature of the universe, which wasn't unfair or malignant, but something much worse: indifferent, taking no heed of individual suffering. It was something the Doctor had learned at a very early age.

Vargeld's sobs subsided and the Doctor sat him against the wall, legs akimbo, hands useless in his lap. 'Listen, we have to get out of here.'

The President nodded in resignation. 'She's not here.'

'But something is.' Giving the man a rea.s.suring pat on the shoulder, the Doctor went back to the c.o.c.kpit, intending to ready them for immediate take-off, but something on the console caught his eye. 'Now that is interesting. I wonder if it's meant for us.'

He went back to where Vargeld sat on the floor, for all the world like a life-sized broken Action Man. 'We're not leaving just yet. Something's happened outside.'

President Vargeld looked up, hope glimmering in his eyes. 'Someone's out there?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No. There's a convexity of clear-ish air around the s.h.i.+p. It's still pretty nasty a human couldn't breathe it but I'll be OK. I think something wants me to go outside.'

Vargeld got to his feet. 'I'll go.'

'No no, you're human,' said the Doctor, steering him gently back towards the c.o.c.kpit. 'Rather too human, it seems. Suit up and stay here then you can rescue me if things go pear-shaped. Which hopefully they won't.'

Vargeld nodded and began to don the s.p.a.cesuit stored behind the pilot's seat.

The Doctor was glad he'd trusted his instincts and come on this madcap mission. He had a feeling he was about make a key discovery. 'Right. I'm all set.'

The President's eyes were evasive, inward-looking. He sounded embarra.s.sed. 'Look, Doctor, sorry about cracking up just now. Must be a side effect of the medication.'

'Don't be sorry,' said the Doctor. 'Just make sure you pull me in if there's trouble.'

The Doctor stepped out of the airlock on to the rocky surface of Muath. An acrid smell, like burning rubber, crept into his nose and mouth. He was standing in a dome of relatively clear air, at the edges of which the black gas broiled and heaved. The beams of the s.h.i.+p's lights shone over his head and were swallowed up by the blackness.

The Doctor coughed, putting a crumpled hanky over his nose and mouth. He could have used one of the s.p.a.cesuits, but he figured that, if the sentience behind the black gas and he was certain there was one had gone to the trouble of making things tolerable for him, he'd meet it halfway. And he hated s.p.a.cesuits clumsy, confining things.

He walked a few metres over the grey, dusty ground, taking long, loping steps in the low gravity. He took the hanky away and bowed theatrically, waving it. 'Well, here I am,' he said. He looked around. Still the black stuff roiled and he realised that if it suddenly decided to collapse around him he wouldn't stand a chance. Best not to think about that. 'It is is me you want to see, isn't it?' me you want to see, isn't it?'