Doctor Who - Nuclear Time (6 page)

'I think,' the Doctor said, 'that we should get back to the TARDIS.'

They were at the front door in an instant, Rory cannoning into it with such force that the wooden slab flew off its flimsy hinges and crashed onto the path outside. The Doctor tore ahead, then halted abruptly.

Amy and Rory stepped out behind him, blinking around his silhouette as they tried desperately to see what he was looking at.

The front gate clanked softly in a light breeze and the bushes rustled gently, highlighting the terrifying silence that had fallen on the village. Amy's eyes scanned the street, falling across row
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upon row of impassive plastic faces. The villagers had gathered outside, waiting for them, but this time there wasn't a smile between them. She felt the Doctor's hand grasp hers and squeeze it tightly in an effort to stop her trembling.

'It's Isley,' she whispered in his ear. 'She found us.'

The young woman stood, head of the pack, on the other side of the garden gate. Her clunky headphones were snapped in two and each speaker hung limply across her chest from the connecting wire. Her hair was ruffled, but other than that she looked no different to when Amy had first encountered her in the attic. Amy felt her fear replaced with a cold anger as she realised the obvious ease with which the android must have dispatched Albert.

Isley cocked her head unnaturally and regarded the trio. 'You know,' she stated matter-of-factly.

The Doctor nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he said. 'We do.'

There was a pause.

'Run!' The Doctor yelled at the top of his voice.

Amy found herself pulled violently sideways towards the neatly trimmed privet hedge, and her hand slipped from the Doctor's as he vaulted into the next-door garden. Rory did the same and she
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scrambled to follow. She made the first jump with relative ease, again with the second and third, but on the fourth hedge she caught her boot in a branch and was sent sprawling flat on her face across the thin turf.

Rory heard her cry out and quickly turned to haul her to her feet. He tried not to look at the advancing crowd as she scrambled to her knees, instead snapping his head this way and that in search of the Doctor.

'Come on,' he told Amy gently as he heaved her upright. 'It's not that far.'

But when they turned again, the Doctor had vanished.

The Doctor had surprised himself with his own athleticism and felt a rush of adrenalin course through his body as hedges and fences swooped past beneath his boots in quick flashes of green and white. He whooped with triumph as he reached the end of the gardens and skidded into an alleyway that ran between the next block of houses and one of the large buildings he had seen when he first entered the village. Its rusty brown wooden cladding towered over him, casting a deep shadow over the houses at its feet and the Doctor could feel the sweat cool on his brow as he paused for breath. Confident that he had shaken
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his hunters for the time being, he turned to flash his companions an excited grin, but there was no one there.

'I've lost them
again!'
He ran a hand through his hair, and opened his mouth to shout. Then he thought better of attracting the attention of the pursuers he'd just lost. Then he felt guilty for not thinking of his companions first. Then he decided that if he was going to bring companions along on his travels he really should start taking better care of them. Finally he cupped his hands around his mouth and staggered in slow circles around the narrow alleyway as he shouted. 'Rory! Amy! Over here!'

There was no response. He opened his mouth to try again, but the words died in his throat as he circled once more and suddenly stopped short. There was a figure standing in the dark shadow of the building, an outline that was moving slowly towards him with an awkward, jerking motion. This wasn't the mechanical movement of an android; it was

something

much

stranger,

something

unnatural, something completely wrong. Despite its stuttering motion there was still something familiar about that gait.

The Doctor opened his mouth in surprise as the figure made a final step towards him and a shaft of sunlight fell across its face from between
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the nearby houses, highlighting a gaunt, defined facial structure and a mop of foppish brown hair hanging limply across the man's forehead.

It was then that the Doctor realised that he was looking at himself.

53

California International Conference Centre,
3 August 1975

Albert stumbled across the beach that bordered the Asilomar conference grounds, oblivious to the salt water that ebbed and flowed over his tatty leather shoes as he swerved in and out of the surf. He took another swig from the crystal bottle and wiped his face with his sleeve as the unbuttoned shirt cuff slapped at his face.

Finding the bottle empty, he spun around in frustration, hurling it out to sea with a hoarse yelp and staggering on the spot for a second as he tried to spy the satisfying splash of it hitting the surface.

The light was fading and the glare of the
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sunset, refracted a thousand times on the crests of the waves, dazzled him. He turned his back on the sea and loped back in the direction of the grassy dunes, spluttering an incomprehensible mix of anger and grief.

He ran out of balance at the steps to the wooden walkway, swearing as he slammed his shin against the first stair. He grabbed the handrail and swung himself awkwardly into a sitting position. The beach swam in front of him, but the tears in his eyes may have had something to do with that. He rested his head in his hands and listened to the steady roar of the sea as it lulled his pounding heart.

At least the sirens had stopped.

Behind him the flames had died down and the towering column of black smoke which had seemed so solid and impassive only an hour before was gradually dispersing.

Albert didn't bother trying to look up as the sound of footsteps clumping along the wooden planks of the walkway approached him. He fixed his eyes forward and concentrated on the nearest rock, making no acknowledgment of the presence behind him as the noise ceased.

'Dr Gilroy?' a gravelly voice enquired.

Albert mumbled something he hoped sounded in the affirmative.

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'Dr Gilroy!' It wasn't a question, it was an order.

He turned his head and leant backward as he tried to take in the man who had so rudely interrupted his breakdown. Smart khaki trousers hung casually over polished black boots and there were no creases in the jacket that was belted tightly around the man's waist. Albert gave up trying to count the medals after he got to three and continued his attempt to force his eyes upwards to meet the man's stare, eventually finding himself glaring at a clipped moustache that seemed almost pasted onto a scarred and leathered face and eyes so grey that they matched his hair.

'What?' Albert finally managed to enunciate.

The man held out a large hand, and Albert allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He stumbled backwards a few steps and jabbed his finger accusingly at the stranger. 'What?' he repeated.

The stranger waited patiently for a few moments as Albert felt for a spot on the handrail for support before continuing. 'Dr Gilroy, I am Colonel Geoffrey Redvers. You do not know me, but I am certainly aware of your work.'

Albert flung his arms up in exaggerated frustration. 'What work? Eh? What work? It's all gone now! If you want my work, you shouldn't
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be standing here; you should be sifting through the wreckage of the storeroom.' He gestured over to the tree line where smoke was still drifting between the branches. 'Burnt, all of it. Gone.' The enormity of the situation hit him once more and he wailed. 'And Isley!

Did you know that I hadn't turned her off for over two years? Two years! And still so much to do.'

Geoff displayed no emotion. 'You can rebuild it,'

he stated simply.

'Her.'

Geoff raised an eyebrow.

'Isley was a her.'

Geoff shrugged. 'You can rebuild
her.'

Albert stepped forward and shoved him in the shoulder, looking for a fight. The man didn't budge.

'Oh yeah? And where am I gonna get funding from now, jackass? I'm a laughing stock. Completely discredited. No one in that conference centre believes that I ever had
anything.
And now they're right. I've nothing left but my notes, and they're not exactly a formal proof.'

'The notes you left in Michigan?' Geoff asked casually.

'Yes, the notes I left in Michigan.'

'Well, I'm afraid you don't have those either. My department picked them up this morning.'

Realisation dawned on Albert.

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'Wait wait wait.
You
did this?' His hand flew to his face and he began to pace up and down the sand, the sun bathing him in a hazy golden glow. 'No.

This isn't happening! You can't do this to me!'

Geoff sighed, 'I know that this has come as a bit of a blow. But I have a proposition for you.'

'I'm not stupid, Colonel. It's not a proposition.

A proposition implies that I have a choice.' 'It's a lot of money.'

Albert's face hardened. 'It had better be.'

Geoff stepped off the bottom stair and onto the sand, walking around the bedraggled scientist. 'Come with me.' He tilted his head along the beach. 'There's a helicopter waiting in the bay. I presume you won't be wanting to say goodbye to your associates.'

Now that they were on a level it was obvious that the colonel towered a good foot over Albert. With his tight uniform highlighting his hefty build, he stood in stark contrast to the thin and unkempt figure beside him. Albert hunched his shoulders in defeat and reluctantly began to follow Geoff along the waterfront.

'No. My career is over. Disappearing is probably the most dignified thing to do.' He fumbled with the hem of his shirt as he tried in vain to tuck it back into his trousers. 'Yesterday I was going

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to be one of the most important men in history.

Yesterday I was going to change the world. Today I am nothing.' He pointed back the way they had come.

'And no one even noticed. To them it's just another day of canapés and wine.'

'The world doesn't need changing just yet. A lot of people would rather it stayed just the way it is - at least until this country is ready.'

'And what makes you so sure that
you're
ready?'

Geoff shrugged. 'That's our job, to gain the advantage, to nip work like yours in the bud before our enemies notice that it even exists.'

'You mean the Russians.'

'Maybe. Everybody has the potential to be an enemy if you wait long enough. It's just a matter of time. And when that time comes, we'd like to be prepared.'

Albert didn't respond, and the pair walked in silence for a few minutes until they rounded the headland and the squat black shape of a helicopter came into view. A guard of four black-uniformed soldiers that had been standing casually around the makeshift landing strip suddenly acknowledged the approach of the colonel. They

snapped

to

attention, saluting

hurriedly as he strode past onto the landing strip.

The pilot started the rotors, and the helicopter
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NUCLEAR TIME

was

barely

stationary

by

the

time

Albert

approached. The roar of the blades drowned out the urgent orders that were thrown around the site as the squad prepared to embark. One of the soldiers flung a helmet into his hand and he jammed it onto his head, ducking into the back of the cabin with Geoff.

The pilot turned awkwardly in his seat and smiled at him. 'It's great to have you on board, sir.' He grinned.

Albert turned to look out of the window and offered no reply. 'I hope you know what you're doing,'

he muttered over the radio.

'I was thinking the same thing about you,' came the crackled response.

A few seconds later, the chopper lifted off in a blizzard of sand and was soon pulling away from the headland and moving out to sea. As the craft swung around, Albert could still see smoke rising from the conference centre as the firemen extinguished the last of the flames, before the view slid softly away and he squinted his eyes against the dying embers of the sun.

61

Colorado, 28 August 1981, 4.57 p.m.

Time paused, and the Doctor could feel it.

His whole body seemed to slow as he stepped towards the man he knew to be himself. Light flowed like a liquid in his vision as if the universe itself didn't want the two to meet, and the golden hue of the afternoon transformed into a haze that fogged his vision.

The world became a dream, and in the centre stood two Doctors.

The Doctor screwed up his eyes and stumbled backwards, one, two steps, until the sensation eased and his mind began to focus again. He felt sick, but he was sure the other Doctor was waving at him.

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'What do you want?' he managed to ask, squeezing his temples with his thumb and forefinger to try and clear the headache.

In response, the other Doctor held up an arm and pulled back his sleeve to reveal his gold watch. He twisted his wrist and turned the watch face towards the Doctor, pointing at it urgently. Then he opened his mouth.

'Teerrr ees ooon teeemm.'

The words were twisted and garbled, emphases in all the wrong places, a horrible, disturbing sound, and the Doctor could see the man was struggling to mouth the correct words.

A shiver ran down his spine as the other Doctor continued.