by Doctor Who
'You have to stop it!' she shouted.
Behind her, another figure ran into the room. The Doctor.
'Oh, about time!' Rose said. Clutching the sonic screwdriver tightly like a talisman, she turned to run back out, to go to Freddie, her heart pounding.
But Wyse was running down the stairs. His eyes burned with anger. Instinctively, Rose thrust the sonic screwdriver at him, hoping to drive him backwards, out of her way. Instead, he held his ground. He grabbed the sonic screwdriver, tore it from her hand and threw it across the room.
It clattered along the floor, rol ing and bouncing – into the heart of the mechanism. Rose ran back, her legs about to give way, feeling sick as she saw it – the sonic screwdriver, resting on a ledge that was one of the teeth of the huge cogwheel. Rising slowly but inexorably towards the teeth of a smal wheel.
Smal er, but stil capable of crushing the screwdriver to pieces.
Without thought, Rose hurled herself after it. She landed on a rotating platform in the middle of the machinery. Lying on her stomach, being slowly swung towards the teeth of the cog, reaching out for the sonic screwdriver, hoping to pluck it from the cogwheel before it was crushed.
Knowing she would be too late.
Her arm caught on the ragged edge of the cog, her hand closing on the sonic screwdriver but unable to pull back. Wrenched painful y upwards, towards the descending metal that would crush her hand and wrist.
And the platform turned, bringing her under the teeth of the cog on the other side. Teeth about to bite through her as the final sequence clicked into motion and the last chimes of Big Ben faded into the night.
EIGHTEEN
The Mechanical raised its arm. A blade sliced through the air, but missed Wyse as he dived back up the stairs outside the room. The Mechanical reached the door, and turned to fire again. But there was a dull click from its arm as the spring activated and found no blades left.
Wyse leaped to his feet. The Mechanical was on the stairs now, cutting off Wyse's escape to his ship and forcing him upwards again – back towards the top of the tower.
'Wait,' the Doctor shouted to the Mechanical. 'Help me get Rose! Find something to jam the wheel.'
Repple was standing beside the machinery. He watched the cogwheel click upwards, the teeth meshing together, Rose being dragged into the closing mouth of iron. 'Too late, Doctor.'
He stepped forward as the gap began to close round Rose's trapped hand and the sonic screwdriver. He leaned as far as he could into the mechanism. In a single fluid motion, Repple pushed his hand and arm between the biting teeth, in the slot above where Rose's hand was trapped.
The machinery groaned and shuddered. Repple screamed. Rose managed to get to her feet as the platform slowed and stopped. It clicked forward slightly, making her stagger. But her hand was free, and she had the sonic screwdriver.
Reaching in past Repple, the Doctor grabbed Rose round the waist and heaved her out. He looked at Repple, nodded in thanks, then ran after Wyse. 'Help him,' he said to the waiting Mechanical as he passed.
'Stop the wheel from turning.'
Rose was pale and weak. 'Thank you,' she managed to say to Repple.
'Help Freddie,' Repple gasped in reply. The wheel was struggling to turn. Repple was dragged further into the mechanism as the teeth bit deeper into his arm. 'He shouldn't be alone.'
She hesitated a moment, watching as Repple was pul ed another step into the machinery. Wondering why there was no blood, why instead of the crunch of bone she could hear the tearing of metal. Then the Mechanical gently moved her aside. The spel broken, she turned and ran.
Repple looked at the Mechanical. 'Do it,' he said, and closed his eyes against the pain.
The Mechanical stepped forward. It gripped Repple's shoulder firmly with one gauntlet, and the top of his trapped arm with the other.
Rose stood in the doorway of the room above, sonic screwdriver clutched so hard in her hand that it hurt. She stared dumbly at the trail of blood across the floor, from the corner out through the doorway and on to the stairs. The clock ticked away the seconds she stood there. She knew he could not have moved on his own.
But the room was empty. Freddie was gone.
The Doctor exploded into the belfry. He threw himself under the bel s, rol ing across the wooden platform.
'Over here.' The voice was calm. Melissa was standing beside Big Ben. She was holding the remains of the device Wyse had attached to the hammer. She was not looking at the Doctor, but staring at the back wall of the tower, at the shadows between one of the arched openings.
Where, at the edge of the tower, stood Wyse. He had retrieved the gun. He was holding it in front of the frightened face of Freddie. The boy could hardly stand. The Doctor saw the tourniquet round his upper thigh, the blood ebbing slowly from his scratched leg. Drip, drip, drip. Second by second. Like the tick of a clock. He remembered Rose's face close to his, her urgency. He felt suddenly dead inside.
'You've lost, Wyse,' the Doctor said. He hoped the tremors he felt were not echoed in his voice.
'I don't think so, old chap.' Wyse seemed to have reverted to his previous gentlemanly manner. 'Those dolts downstairs won't be able to stop the mechanism. Oh, they might slow it down. Give it something to chew on, as it were. But I do fancy I can hear it starting up again, don't you?'
The Doctor could. There was a whine of power, of wheels and gears grinding into motion, echoing up from the ventilation shaft. Had Melissa disarmed it? Would that be enough if she had? 'Let the boy go,' he said.
'Oh no. I need this little chappie to get me out of here. Past your mechanical friend on the stairs.'
'And if we don't let you leave?' Melissa asked.
Wyse shook his head in apparent disappointment. 'You real y don't have any imagination at al , do you?' he said sadly. His face twisted abruptly into a savage mask, and he dragged Freddie back, to the very edge of the clock tower, leaning him over. The boy's eyes were wide with fear, his face pale as paper.
'I'd rather not waste any more bul ets,' Wyse said. 'After all, I might need them for you.' He pul ed Freddie back to safety, though stil perilously close to the edge. 'Can you hear it?' he whispered. 'The wheels are turning once more. The process begins.'
The massive cogwheel lurched round again. The remains of Repple's arm – outwardly human, stil in the sleeve of his jacket, but spil ing brass screws and flywheels – crunched under the weight. Another lurch, and the machinery whirred into more healthy life.
'It's starting again,' Repple said. 'We need something more substantial.' He stepped towards the wheel, closing his eyes and stretching out his remaining arm.
A hand closed heavily on his good shoulder, turning him round. Repple opened his eyes and saw the blank gunmetal face of the Mechanical close to his own. Then the world seemed to turn upside down as he was hurled across the room, away from the machinery.
The Mechanical watched Repple slam into the wal and slide to the floor. It waited just long enough to see that he was not damaged, but stunned enough not to interfere. Then it turned back to the mass of machinery. It stepped forward and reached inside the wheels and gears as they began to turn freely. Its voice was a mechanical rasp, barely audible above the straining mechanism.
'Even machines...' it said.
Then the squealing sound of tearing metal, of straining gears, of machinery slamming to a halt and wrenching itself apart drowned out the rest of its words. If they ever came.
The cog rocked slightly, straining to move. Then with a final explosion of breaking iron, its huge spindle snapped and the wheel toppled sideways. It crashed down towards Repple, the top of it smacking into the wal above him. Metal teeth biting into the stonework.
Silence.
Except for a sound like the ticking of a clock.
There was a smel of burning. In the seconds of silence fol owing the wrenching, tearing sound from below, Wyse had stood open-mouthed and astonished. Now he was livid. He aimed the gun straight at the Doctor.
'No!' Rose ran into the belfry and leaped across the bridge over the platform.
Wyse turned, and fired at her in one movement. But Freddie shoved his arm upwards and the shot missed. The bul et clanged into the inside of one of the quarter bel s, rattling and ricocheting. The noise was deafening. Rose clapped her hands over her ears.
Startled and deafened, Wyse let go of Freddie. But instead of trying to escape, the boy grabbed hold of Wyse – pushing him back towards the edge of the tower.
'Freddie!' the Doctor shouted as the sound died away.
'I'm dead anyway,' Freddie said, his voice strained, weak, but determined. Another step towards the edge.
'No, Freddie!' Rose screamed at him. She ran to grab him, to pul him back.
Wyse teetered on the very edge of the tower, then managed to push Freddie roughly away. Rose caught the boy as he staggered and fel . She fel with him.
'You've lost, Wyse,' the Doctor said.
'It's finished,' Melissa agreed. 'Too many people have died for you, even here on Earth.'
But Wyse seemed to have recovered his composure. 'It was you who kil ed them.'
'An accident,' she snapped back. 'I thought it was worth it. But I was wrong. You're not worth anyone's life. This is the end.'
'For now, perhaps,' Wyse conceded. He had the gun aimed at Rose as she nursed Freddie on the floor in front of him. But I can stil walk out of here.'
Rose barely heard him. She was holding the sonic screwdriver over Freddie's wounded leg. 'What do I do?' she shouted. The boy's eyes were closed. 'Doctor, what do I do?'
'You come with me,' Wyse told her. 'A far more robust and useful hostage, don't you think, Doctor?'
He gave a short laugh. 'I take your queen. Checkmate.'
The Doctor did not answer. He was looking down at the floor, as if depressed, as if ready to accept the inevitable. But Rose could see what he was looking at. She realised what he was thinking, what he was planning to do. And ducked.
It had limped slowly and silently across the platform under the bel s, slipping between the Doctor's feet.
Now the cat was staring at Wyse, its green eyes gleaming. The Doctor's kick propel ed it through the air, straight at Wyse. Straight at the man's head – claws out, hissing with anger.
Wyse gave a startled cry. He took a step backwards and threw up his arms to protect himself as the cat's eyes glowed weakly. The claws raked down his hand and the gun fel forgotten at his feet.
The cat snarled – mouth open wide, sharp teeth bared. It clawed and tore at Wyse, latching on to his col ar and ripping at his face. He had the cat round the neck, dragging it clear, trying to avoid the flailing paws.
But too late. Already off balance, the cat's renewed attack drove him back, to the edge of the tower. He was caught for the briefest instant, one tick of the clock, on the brink. Then he was toppling backwards, screaming, falling. The cat's face was close to his own. The air rushing past them, tearing the breath from him.
The cat's eyes fixed on Wyse's terrified realisation as he fel through the fog. Its voice was a metal ic scrape, like the protesting gears of a broken mechanism.
'Got you!' the cat said.
NINETEEN
Melissa was wearing her happy face when she said goodbye. Presumably she thought it was appropriate. Rose didn't.
'We remained undetected and I have completed my mission,' she explained simply.
'Despite losing your crew,' Repple pointed out.
She shrugged. 'They were just Mechanicals.' But there was a hint of regret in her voice. Repple did not reply.
'Lucky the cat was there,' Rose said.
'It was a black cat,' the Doctor pointed out. 'Though I did have a deal to offer Wyse if al else failed.'
'You knew how to power up his ship?' Melissa asked in surprise.
The Doctor shook his head. 'I was going to give him yours.'
'I shal miss this strange planet with its ugly-looking people,' Melissa confessed as she and the Doctor shook hands on the Embankment.
'They won't al miss you.'
She inclined her head, perhaps in sorrow. 'Vassily is dead,' she said quietly, 'and I have destroyed his body. I have succeeded, but it was not worth the cost.' Rose and Repple watched from the other side of the road.
The three of them stood together a few minutes later, watching as the surface of the Thames seemed to heave upwards. The slick, dark shape of Melissa's ship detached itself from the water and lifted soundlessly into the night sky. It paused over their heads, as if bidding farewel , then with a streak of impossibly bright light it was gone.
'One more job to do,' the Doctor said. They walked to Sir George's house in silence.
Repple waited for them outside. The Doctor let Rose do the talking. Sir George sat silently listening, his hands clasped tightly in his lap and his face pale as death.
'He was a hero,' Rose said. 'He real y was. He saved us al , several times. He was so...' She couldn't think of the words and looked away.
Sir George leaned forward and put his hand over Rose's. 'Yes, he was. Such enthusiasm, such love of life. Such a wil ingness to help. Always wanting to help – in the house, the garden, the kitchen.' He smiled sadly. 'Drives his mother potty, you know. No wonder she worries about him so.'
'She wil be al right?' Rose asked quietly.
Sir George nodded. 'I'm sure she wil . She's very strong, you know. But she's been through a lot in her life. Like Freddie.'
'I'm sorry,' the Doctor said quietly. It was the first time he had spoken since they arrived.
'That's al right, Doctor,' Sir George said. 'We'l be fine now. And you never know...' He stood up and shook the Doctor's hand. 'It might have shocked some sense into the boy.' He smiled weakly. The smile turned to a look of surprise as Rose hugged him tight. 'I say, steady on.'
There were tears on her cheeks when she stepped away. 'Give Freddie our love, won't you. And Anna.
He may not remember that we said goodbye.'
'Indeed I wil .' Sir George glanced upwards as he spoke.
And in the room above, a mother sat on her son's bed, holding his pale, cold hand. She cried soundless tears. Tears of relief and joy as she felt every weak rhythm of his pulse. Tears that became sobs as he opened his eyes, and managed to smile.
Then his eyes closed again and he slept on peaceful y – dreaming of clocks and cats and cogwheels.
And of how he had been a hero.
The reassuring blue shape of the TARDIS was standing at the back of Melissa's house. just as she had promised.
'I'm surprised you trusted her,' Rose said.
The Doctor clicked his tongue. 'You've no faith.' He turned to Repple. 'Goodbye, then.'
Repple reached out to shake first the Doctor's hand, then Rose's.
'I like the new arm,' she said. 'And thanks. You know.' She held on to his hand for a moment. It was like the gauntlet of a medieval armoured knight. The fingers were jointed metal, the hand was stiff and cold. His arm was plain gunmetal, attached – expertly, the Doctor claimed proudly – to the shoulder.
Except that Rose couldn't see the arm, because it was hidden beneath Repple's new coat. A battered brown leather jacket.
'It's no good to me,' the Doctor had sighed. 'Stitching's coming apart.'
When she let go, Repple lifted up his hand in front of his face, inspecting it. Behind his expressionless face Rose knew was a mass of cogs and gears and sprockets. It was hard to believe. He seemed so ordinary. So human.
'I don't think the previous owner wil be needing the arm back,' the Doctor reassured him. 'Sorry it's not more in keeping.'
'Thank you, Doctor.' He flexed his fingers, then let the arm drop to his side. 'It reminds me of who I real y am.'
'The Al's gone,' the Doctor said. 'Burned out and disintegrated. So there's nothing to stop you leaving, assuming there ever real y was. We can give you a lift, if you want,' he offered.
'Where to? This is the only home I have.'
Th
e Doctor nodded. 'See you then.'
'You'l do al right,' Rose said. 'Hey, if you're stil around in eighty years or so, come and visit me.'
'Thank you. Perhaps I wil .' He stepped back, and surprised Rose by snapping a salute.
'Don't get lonely,' she said.
The Doctor opened the door of the TARDIS, and she fol owed him inside.
The blue box faded from reality with a grating, rasping sound. For a moment the empty outline of the TARDIS was stamped in the gathering fog.
Repple stood watching the shape blur and fade as the mist drifted across. Then, with a barely perceptible whirr of internal gears, he turned and walked back to the front of the house.
He paused in the glow of a street light, listening to the breeze ruffle the autumn leaves and the distant chimes of Big Ben. He imagined he could feel that breeze on his face, that he could smell the stink of the river. And he tried to ignore the rhythmic ticking that kept him constant company. He waited for the black cat that wandered lazily down the road to catch him up. It regarded him curiously through deep, emerald eyes.
The first traces of dawn were scattered across the skyline, silhouetting the Palace of Westminster, as the two of them started their journey.
Acknowledgements
I am indebted to a number of people who have helped with this novel, and thank them al .
In particular, I should mention everyone who is involved in the production of the new series of Doctor Who, but especial y Russel T Davies – for his help, advice, encouragement and contagious enthusiasm – and script editors Helen Raynor and Elwen Rowlands, who have kept me honest and provided invaluable insight into the characters of the Doctor and Rose.
My editor, Steve Cole, has continued to work wonders, making me look good in print and providing sympathy, friendship, and beer. Working with him and with Jac Rayner on these novels has been a labour of love in the best sense.
And finally, I must thank my MP, James Plaskitt, for arranging a guided tour of the clock tower at the Palace of Westminster. Inside it is pretty much as I describe it, though I have made some small changes for dramatic reasons – there is, for example (and so far as I could tel ), no infernal alien device ready to fry the Earth's atmosphere.
