Chapter Seventeen.

The Firemaker Fitz dreamed. He dreamed of a place called the Dominion, an endless universe of caverns and strange glowing seas. It had existed for ever, and it was infinite, and it was full of life. The Bane, the Ruin and innumerable others, a vast panoply of life, existing in delicate balance.

And the T'hiili. A race of farmers, builders, spinning their giant Nests throughout the Dominion. Led by the Queen, who guided their thoughts, who planned their actions. The Queen, guarded by her fierce and loyal T'vorha.

The T'hiili life cycle unfolded in his dream. The Queen would be fertilised by T'hiili secretions. She would lay thousands of eggs, and live for many years. When the time came to die, she would lay a special clutch, which consisted solely of T'vorha and one new Queen. This was what Fitz had met. A new Queen, hungry to he fertilised, before the Blight came and destroyed her as it had destroyed the former Queen.

The Blight. Fitz felt the terror of it in his dream, the total despair of the T'hiili. He saw them piloting their dirigibles in hordes, into the swarming blackness. He saw the former Queen, unable to move as the Blight encroached upon her Nest. She was vast, bloated a limbless bulk, all egg sac and brain. He saw ma.s.ses of T'vorha flying about the Queen's vast body, using nets and dirigibles to try to move her out of the path of the Blight. But it was no use. He heard her dying scream, the miracle of the birth of her last clutch of eggs, a sorry dozen. He saw the T'vorha take these eggs to their battleship, nurturing them. He saw the birth of the new Queen.

He saw the T'vorha discover the node in the cavern of black rock, how the new Queen had reasoned that it was a way out of the Dominion. But what was the point of escape, if she was unfertilised? Were there any T'hiili left to fertilise her?

Fitz dreamed all this, and when he woke he was lying on the mossy floor of the Queen's chamber. He opened his eyes. The Queen was lying on the mossy ground next to him. It was for all the world as if they were lovers on Dartmoor.

'H how was it for you?' gasped Fitz.

The Queen sat up.

'What was that stuff?'

The voice in his mind. It was less icy now, more of a skeletal whisper.

Part of me. I had to make you understand. There's so little time left.

Fitz was struggling to understand what had happened. Somehow, that mossy liquor had linked his mind to the Queen's, and she had filled him with a total knowledge of the Dominion. He now knew that it was a matter of hours before the Blight closed right in, allowing nothing to escape.

We must go through the node to your world. The future of the T'hiili is in our hands, Fitz Kreiner.

Great. Not only had he to find and rescue Sam, but the salvation of an entire species was now being foisted upon him. Maybe the Doctor was used to this sort of responsibility, but he wasn't having it. 'Oh, no,' he said, getting up. 'Sorry, but I don't think so. I'll take my chances on my own, if you don't mind.' And the knowledge you've given to me should help me find my way out.

The Queen also stood, her long red hair falling in waves down her back.

You have no choice.

The voice was cold and hard again, filling his head. He fell to his knees, silver light exploding behind his eyes. 'Stop! You'll kill me!'

You must help. I must survive.

Fitz nodded. Anything to stop the pain. 'Yes!' The pain went away, and Fitz rolled over on to his back.

The Queen stood over him. She had him totally in her power. He had no choice but to help her. Still, at least, in helping the T'hiili, he'd stand a chance of escaping from the Dominion. Yes, that was it. Stay close. And, if the opportunity presented itself, leg it before the Queen could freeze his brain.

'OK,' he said. 'I'll help you.'

The Queen led him from the chamber towards the waiting T'vorha.

We have to get past the Ruin. They guard the node. They are many, the T'vorha are few. And with each attack, more die.

An idea popped into Fitz's head. 'Hey,' he said, turning to the Queen. 'Have you lot discovered fire yet?'

The Queen blinked.

What is fire?

The Doctor stood for a while, at the edge of the clearing, the shack behind him, breathing in the air, feeling it fill his lungs. It was good to be in the open again. He set off into the forest, deliberately not thinking about which direction to take, letting his feet and his hearts guide him. The musk of the pine trees tickled the back of the Doctor's throat. It was a beautiful morning. The sun shone through the angular branches of the trees creating pools of dappled shade in which clouds of insects droned.

He had escaped from the C19 base with ease. The whole place had seemed deserted, and he'd slipped along the corridors unchallenged. All the UNIT troops were probably preparing for their trip through the wormhole.

A surge of impotent anger. Nothing he could do about that.

He plunged deeper into the forest. He didn't want to admit it to himself in case it wasn't true, but there was a certain feeling, a presence in his mind. It was very faint, like a half-remembered dream which vanished on the instant of waking. Could it be the TARDIS? Or was it just wishful thinking?

And then he saw it, through the trees up above. A plain grey cube. The TARDIS. He quickened his pace, feeling suddenly cold inside. As he grew nearer, he saw something attached to the trees, surrounding the TARDIS. He stopped short and ducked behind a tree.

Police tape.

Inspector Nordenstam had been here probably still was watching, waiting. The Doctor closed his eyes and muttered soothing words to calm himself. The last thing he needed right now was to be dragged back to the police station in Strangnas for an interminable interrogation. Opening his eyes again, he strained his hearing, listening out for the telltale sound of foot on twig.

Everything was utterly silent.

He had to risk it. Tensing himself, he stepped out from behind his tree, fished the TARDIS key from his pocket, and ducked under the police tape.

He stood still, looking, listening.

Nothing happened.

He stepped up to the TARDIS, placing his hands on the flat grey surface. She was cold. Cold as a Cyber-tomb. He walked around the TARDIS, looking for the keyhole. As before, there was none.

The Doctor sighed, stepping back from the grey cube.

So near and yet so far.

Sam held Itharquell against the floor of the dirigible. They were almost into the Blight, and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.

'Itharquell, you must help me,' she gasped. She was beginning to feel weird, as though she was being hypnotised.

That dry dead voice again: No hope.

Sam thought desperately. 'You said that the presence of the T'vorha meant that there could be a new Queen nearby. You're the only one who can fertilise her. If we can find her, and then get through the node, the T'hiili would be saved.'

Itharquell blinked, milky membranes flicking across his blue eyes.

Impossible. I can't. No hope.

She shook him angrily. 'I thought you were a thinker!'

Itharquell was staring over her shoulder at the screen.

The minds of the others drawing me in.

They had to get away from here. No more time to talk. Sam dragged Itharquell upright and shoved him towards the control brain. 'Get us out of here,' she said. 'At least we can try. If we fail, then then you can kill yourself. But we have to try.' you can kill yourself. But we have to try.'

Itharquell began manipulating the stemlike levers, and Sam felt them back away from the Blight.

She let out a long sigh of relief, as they plunged back into the golden sky-sea, away from the doomed Nest.

When she was sure they were safe, she turned to Itharquell. 'What made you change your mind?'

He looked at her, black tongue licking his lips.

A single word flickered in her mind: Fear.

Sam sank back against the wall, finding herself laughing, as they flew away from the Blight.

Professor Nagle had got tired of waiting for Wolstencroft to come and find her. How would it look if she was found with one of his troops trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey? No, she had to go to him. Make up some lie about the Doctor escaping. Find out what Wolstencroft was doing with her generator.

So she dragged the soldier in his chair to the biohazard safe at the far end of the room. He came round halfway through and struggled like h.e.l.l, and it took all her strength, but she did it. She didn't know what he was fussing about anyway the safe was empty.

She shoved the heavy door to and spun the combination. She walked out of the lab and took the lift to the generator room level.

The generator room doors were standing open, so she walked straight in.

Wolstencroft looked up as she entered. 'Professor Nagle! I was just about to send for you. Where is the Doctor?'

Nagle took a deep breath. 'The Doctor's escaped. He's gone to try to close the wormhole.'

Wolstencroft's lips tightened into a thin line. 'Where's Lindgard? And Private Alomar?'

She thought of Boris, in the mortuary. She slumped down in a chair. The truth was probably the safest course; he'd never believe that the Doctor shot Lindgard, and she could hardly confess to it herself. 'Boris was shot in the escape attempt. It was an accident. Private Alomar is tied up in the lab.'

She closed her eyes, ma.s.saged her temples. She heard Wolstencroft order two soldiers down to the lab to free Alomar. Then he strode over to her, scowling. 'This just confirms my suspicions about the Doctor. He's not going to help us; he's cleared off. We'll never see him again.' He crouched down, an earnest look in his dark-brown eyes. 'It's up to us to save the planet.'

'You're wrong. Anyway, how is sending a load of troops through the wormhole going to save the planet?'

Wolstencroft's eyes gleamed. 'They'll establish a bridgehead. Wipe out those... things. Once the area has been secured, you'll be sent through. It will be your job to close the wormhole.'

'What?'

'Now the Doctor's absconded, you're the only one qualified for the job.'

Nagle swallowed. Why hadn't she gone with the Doctor? 'You can't force me!'

'I can, and I will,' he snapped. 'If you don't obey, you'll be shot. Now, I've had a quick look at the generator myself. It seems to be intact, but you'd better run a quick systems check.'

It wasn't a request: it was an order. Nagle nodded wearily. She followed him over to the control desk. All the broken gla.s.s had been cleared away and the remaining bits of part.i.tion had been removed. In its place was a makeshift mesh fence, with a gate in the centre. 'It's electrified,' said Wolstencroft. 'In case anything nasty comes though when we switch on.'

She sat, initiating the systems check. It ran for a few minutes, and miraculously nothing seemed to be wrong. 'It's all on line,' she said.

'OK,' said Wolstencroft, waving a gloved hand at the shining steel p.r.o.ngs of the generator. 'Be ready to activate the node on my command.'

Fitz stood in the Queen's chamber, surrounded by a couple of dozen T'vorha. The Queen stood in the centre, her blue eyes never leaving Fitz.

He was giving his first combat-training lesson.

He'd changed out of the encounter suit, and was now wearing T'vorha armour over Bjorn's blue-checked lumberjack shirt. It was light and fibrous, but very hard. He had a pretty good idea of how foolish he must look, but the T'vorha didn't seem to mind.

He held aloft a stout stem, with some dried moss glued to the end. The T'vorha had used their saliva as glue, and it stank like rotting fish.

He took his lighter from his pocket.

He lit the end of the stem.

There was a roar and the moss burst into flame a bright, yellow flame which shimmered and flickered brightly.

The T'vorha fell to their knees.

Fitz smiled. They had light and heat enough here, and they didn't need to cook their food, so they had never had a need to discover fire.

They'd certainly discovered it now, though.

They crowded closer, their ridged, masked faces reflecting the yellow flame, making grunting sounds of wonderment.

Fitz smiled to himself. This was going to work. It was actually going to work work.

A few hours later, everything had been planned. It had taken Fitz a while to work out how to use fire as a weapon against the Ruin; everything in the Dominion seemed flammable, and Fitz didn't want to be responsible for torching the whole place. Not that it really mattered in the face of the Blight.

Another problem was that there was only one lighter, and about thirty dirigibles. If he went round lighting a fire in each one, by the time he'd set the last one, the first would have gone out. In the end, he'd found, more by chance than anything else, a narcotic drink the T'vorha used to prepare themselves for battle which burnt with a very evil-looking blue flame. Each dirigible would carry a bowl of this stuff, into which harpoons could be dipped, their points encrusted in flammable moss.

Everything was prepared, and Fitz was alone with the Queen. They were walking along a bal.u.s.trade on the outside of her Nest. He'd got used to the low gravity now, taught his legs to make small short steps.

Something was bothering him.

'It's all very well going back through the wormhole,' he said, trying not to look at the Queen's glistening nakedness. 'But if you're not, erm, fertilised, the whole T'hiili race is doomed.'