And there on the map table, playing out between the Doctor and Razum, was a promise of the only alternative. War. A slower fire, burning across the surface of the globe, until there were no enemies left for Razum to put to the torch.
The Earth, Fitz realised, was caught between a rock and a hard place. And both were Razum Kinzhal.
Biting the bullet, Angel marched in and did her best to take in the scene without a blink.
Razum and the Doctor faced each other like chess opponents across the map table. There was Wargaard, of course, looking baffled and aggravated, and his aide, no longer looking down her nose at any of this. Then there was the young man, not looking altogether at home in his uniform, and with him, an exotic beauty who seemed utterly absorbed by all the tension in the centre of the room.
Angel, Razum greeted her. The Doctor is offering a oneway trip offplanet and an untested solution to my problem. Should I take him up on his offer, do you think?
Itwill be tested, when we put it to the test! insisted the Doctor irritably.
And if it fails the test, youll return me here?
The Doctor had no immediate answer.
His silence would tell Razum everything he needed to know. Her Lord General may not have been what he appeared, but Angel still knew him well enough.
De Schalles and his men kept their visors down so all the guards saw was their rank until they were up close. Often, they were even halfway into salutes as De Schalles and his two comrades came up and decked them.
When it came to the two directly outside Command, they took extra care to drop them quietly. Other than that, it was too easy, and the noise of the debate going on within helped cover any noise they made. Armed with weapons borrowed from fallen guards, they braced themselves with traded glances.
De Schalles pulled off his helmet. He wanted Kinzhal to see his face.
He led his men in, scanning for his target.
All the attention in the room was on the argument. Nobody even looked their way.
Except the girl.
What Trix longed for was a diversion.
Since the locket had shown up, shed been keeping a subtle eye on it and telling herself she was mad: a notrimmings snatchandgrab was beneath her, not her style. But, this close and personal, after such a lengthy absence, that locket was desire on a chain.
Just one decent diversion would give her a chance at it.
Trix was on the lookout for opportunities when she saw the three men march in. She recognised De Schalles instantly and didnt much like the expression on his face, or the rifle in his hands.
Careful what you wish for, she thought.
Look out! shouted Wargaards aide.
Angel spun, reaching for her holster. De Schalles and two coconspirators fanned out from the doorway.
Time compressed. Everything happened at once.
De Schalles fired, the Doctor ducked below the table and multiple impact blasts tore across the map; Razum stood his ground and pulled his gun; the exotic beauty hauled the young man behind her; Wargaard stared and his aide dived towards Razum. Something punched Angels armour and hot teeth chewed at her chest.
Angel heard herself cry out as she fell. She squeezed hard on her trigger and the pistol blew a hole in the man who shot her. But the act seemed suddenly detached from her.
De Schalles! You bloody fool! Wargaard was drawing his own sidearm. Shots sizzled and flared back and forth.
The burn clawed its way inside her. Angel writhed on the floor, every breath a torture.
Angel!
Razum was towering over her. She had a blurred, upsidedown view of him. The Doctor crawled to her side, pressed a hand to her wound. She heard the panic in his breath, sensed its grip on her.
She was dying.
Trix couldnt believe her luck: Razum had tossed the locket on to the table and hurried to take care of Angel. Now all she had to do was hold on to it and keep her head down.
She sneaked a peek now and then, keeping track of the battle. So she got to see Wargaard, the grumpy old goat, holding up his pistol but reluctant to aim at anyone specific, as though he was waiting on the outcome before deciding who to shoot. She also saw the force with which Aphrodite shoved Fitz aside, and the ferocity with which she kicked out, knocking the gun from one soldiers hand.
The goddess followed up, grabbing the mans arm and whipping it behind him; a crunch and snap, and she drove her knee into his back, sent him crashing into the table. There was a hint of the savage lioness about her as she hunted around for her next target.
Definitely not a woman to cross. Trix glanced at the locket in her hand.
De Schalles ignored Wargaard and everything happening either side of him. His rifle tracked only Razum, rushing to Angel, and he squeezed off a precise shot that took a bite out of the Lord Generals gunhand. The pistol went flying and Razum the mighty Razum Kinzhal flinched.
De Schalles grimaced. He raised the rifle to sight at Kinzhals face. And gave the Lord General a moment to stand tall.
Razums gaze lasered into him.
A slender arm snaked around De Schalless throat and constricted with a single, fierce pressure. The last thing De Schalles saw was the stonecarved smile on Razums face, in the second or so before his neck broke.
Of the many motives for murder conspiring to fuel her actions, Aphrodite could never be sure which had finally sparked her killing fury: Fitzs fear, for her and himself; Wargaards nearapoplectic indignation; even her fathers emotional vacuum, translating as ruthlessness inside her. In the aftermath, as De Schalles slipped from her stranglehold to the floor, she knew that something of her own had factored in it too: her volatile heart.
The catalyst, of course, had been the sight of Angel, this stranger who was a sister to her, mortally wounded. Aphrodite, as profoundly stunned as Fitz behind her, got a quick rein on her breathing and rushed to Angels side.
Brushing the Doctor and Razum out of the way, she knelt and laid a hand over the wound, sparing the other to massage Angels forehead with firm, insistent strokes. Ive inherited something of Dushas touch, she explained to the others. Theres a good chance I can stabilise her.
For how long? begged the Doctor. Stability wont be nearly enough!
Iknow that! she shot back angrily.
Fitz and Trix approached quietly from different directions, drawn in, but hanging back.
Dusha. The name emerged from Angel as a whisper. She searched around for someone. Aphrodite directed Razum around into Angels field of view. Dusha, Angel said again. Let her enter into me. Let me accept her for you Razum.
Aphrodite watched Razums eyes tighten. She could almost hear the Doctor thinking it through. Shes right, she said. Dusha would heal her body from the inside out.
At what cost? The Doctor looked... defeated. But he could see, with crystal clarity, that Angels mind was made up.
Aphrodite and the Doctor, as one, looked to Razum.
Angels resolve, her strength was remarkable. Staggering, Razum realised. Quite possibly the most powerful thing he had ever witnessed. And, in as much as he towered over those around him, he held this petite, frail creature lying before him in something akin to awe.
What she offered was not what he wanted. Like the Doctors offer, it was an untested alternative. But in addition to anything else, what she offered was her life.
And that alone was potent enough to stir something in Razums empty heart. Something akin to feeling.
The Doctor took Razums slow nod for his green light. He jumped to his feet and went into a buzz of activity, dashing over to the map table to retrieve the Thought Time equipment.
Dusha might not consent to this, Razum observed.
The Doctor was tearing panels from the sides of the map table, hunting for the power source. Ill talk to her! The battle, playing out on the table above, fizzled and dissipated as he tugged a connector free, snatching his fingers clear of the sparks. Just. Lord General. He gestured impatiently at Razum. To save us some time, you might make yourself useful wiring up this contraption. Itll give us some additional control from this end, reinforce the bridge, so to speak.
Razum stole a glance at Angel, breathing faintly now despite Aphrodites attendance. The Doctor was relieved to see him do as he was told.
As for the rest... The Doctor stood and snapped his fingers at Wargaards aide. Trix! The locket, if youd be so kind! He was frustrated to see the reticence with which she came forward. He filched the locket from her as soon as she was within reach. He wasnt in too much haste to note the wince she gave like hed cut off her hand. He answered her hurt look with a dark scowl.
Aphrodite! How is she? He wasnt about to excuse Trix from his glare just yet.
Shes stable, but thats all!
All right. Then we havent much time. He bore down on Trix and dangled the locket hypnotically in front of her. She backed up a step, but he wasnt letting her get away. What? You dont want it? Youre fortunate we dont have time for a fullblown lecture. Maybe, just maybe, in Aphrodites presence, something of this would be amplified sufficiently to hit home. Beware of obsession, Trix. It isnt something you have; its something that has you!
Youre a fine one to talk! She rounded on him. You want it yourself! That locket is what this whole thing was about from the start and you cant pretend otherwise! I knew you wanted the thing and I was doing my damnedest to get it for you!
The Doctor studied Trix intently, determined not to let her wound penetrate. Still, she had delivered the blow with such conviction, he was left with the faintly troubling doubt that he may well have misjudged her. Possibly maybe.
Doctor, Fitz interposed. Angel.
The Doctor nodded, snatching the locket back as though from mid air. He spun and dropped to his knee close to Angel, gently lifting her head to hang the locket around her neck. There were volumes to be read in Aphrodites face as he met her gaze, but he had no time and they both knew.
Where will I find her?
She told him.
Then he was up and hurrying from the room. Heading for the TARDIS. And Dusha.
Tatyana was surprised, but pleasantly so, when Colonel Bugayev requested her presence in the Kronometr basement. She made her way there at once, surprised too at how much more willingly she responded to this mans summons than any of Garudins.
She found the Colonel in one of the Misl Vremya booths, arranging himself on a couch.
Thank you for this, he said. According to the Doctor, we are to contribute to the building of a bridge between past and future.
She nodded as if hed asked her to take down a letter. Garudin had talked of time travel in similarly matteroffact terms. But she preferred this mans manner.
Apparently, your touch could be of great assistance.
Tatyana nodded again. As the Colonel settled back, she moved closer and offered her hand. It seemed the right thing to do.
Winter would follow theGrande Armee , of course, hounding the remains of Bonapartes dream all the way to the border and beyond. But the heart of that winter remained, here with Dusha. The Doctor felt its bite and drew his coat around him as he approached. The falling flakes were featherlight, but thorned.
Dusha had maintained a camp fire, so there was hope in her at least. He caught a whiff of it in the smoke spiralling up from the embers. Stooping to brush some of the snow clear, he perched himself beside her on the dead trunk. Razum is waiting for you, he said.
Dusha lifted her head slowly, studying him with care, as if she had been joined by an apparition. Gradually, her hooded face seemed to warm cautiously to the fact of his presence. Its time I left this world behind me.
The Doctor looked down, rubbing his hands over what was left of the fire. Its not quite the freedom you wished for, Im afraid. And it comes at a price.
Doesnt everything?
Weve found a host. She volunteered herself. Shes dying.
Who?
She knew the answer, but the Doctor wanted to speak the name. Angel.
Dushas gaze flew to unseen horizons. Will she feel anything? she asked eventually.
She might feel your touch before she dies. You can give her that, at least.
He felt a sudden compulsion to turn his head. Dusha was looking at him. Will I feel anything? Will I remember?
The Doctor had faced death many times, as close as he now faced Dusha. But he couldnt answer her.
Im worried, she admitted, for those Ill be leaving behind.
The Doctor nodded, understanding. There are better times to come, he assured her. Spring, summer, autumn, more hospitable winters ahead. Mother Russia might not be the kindest of parents, but her children always endure. Time heals all wounds, they say. Except those it inflicts itself. He kept the addendum to himself.
Dusha took his hand. Ill remember you, Doctor. In my heart.
That goes double for me. He offered her a smile.
Dusha fell into an embrace, and waited. The Doctor squeezed Dushas palm tighter and then he and she were suffused with a halo of starlight. The corona gradually dissipated, but a lingering flicker bathed Dushas motionless body in its celestial warmth. Her breast ceased its shallow rise and fall. The Doctor held her and kissed her hair, feeling the warmth escape her like the last of the heat fading from the fire.
A life extinguished. But, he reminded himself, to be rekindled in another time, another place.
The Doctor laid her body gently to the ground and carefully, patiently, lifted the locket from around her lifeless neck. To anybody who might have been watching, passing by in this cruellest of winters, it might have looked like he was stealing from the dead. And they would have thought very little of that, and moved on. Such sights were far from alien to this world.
But the Doctor was doing nothing of the kind. He was passing on a message.
Bugayev was not given to daydreaming, so he knew what he felt was real. She passed through him, tangible as a breeze; the past catching up with him. She was like every memory of his first wife, relived in a single moment. Then she was gone and he was left reaching for her again.
His eyes opened and there was Tatyana, standing beside the couch and holding his hand. Its done? She smiled and her eyes, sapphire and ice, sparkled.
Suddenly, he could see the future. And it was as ephemeral, in its own way, as the sensation that had just passed through him on its way there. But it would shine. Brightly.
If he dared love again, if he walked that road with this young woman, he could be sure they would have a daughter. And their daughter would have a daughter. Wife, daughter, granddaughter, great granddaughter, all the way down the line, there would be someone in his life for as long as he cared to live. And the memories of each would stay right there with him, through the generations.
He sat up and hopped off the couch, straightening his uniform. I think we can consider our part concluded, he said. The Doctor might report back, but I wouldnt count on it.
With a last meditative survey of the Misl Vremya chamber, he laid a hand on Tatyanas shoulder and escorted her towards the exit. We have been part of something very grand, you and I. Something greater even than all the history that was gathered in this room. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to study Tatyana. Of course, I still have a little clearing up to do. But, once thats all been attended to, what would you say to dinner with an old man?
Her smile shone, coyly. Id say you werent that old at all, Colonel.
On the way out, Bugayev resumed the countdown on all the charges.