‘I am so fed up,’ she said, ‘of being told what to do.’

  With two bounds, she was by the cockpit door, which was already slanting horribly to one side.

  ‘Nooo!’ The Doctor charged after her, trailing the hammock, trying to throw it over the tail of the plane as Amelia deftly kicked away the chocks, pulled down the propeller once, twice until it started up, then vaulted into the cockpit, pulling down her googles.

  ‘If I found one spit of land, I can find another!’ she yelled. ‘You go fetch me my damn gasoline. I’ll meet you there. I am not giving up.’

  The Doctor attached the hammock to the end of the tail even as the plane started to move, wheels jerking through the water. It was up to his knees now. He sadly started splashing back to the TARDIS. Surely the weight of the water would hold her back, and keep her down? And there was only a hundred metres or so of beach – she’d never make it. He stood near the door of the TARDIS, ready to go and fetch her if she tipped into the waves.

  But he had underestimated the willpower and skill of the young woman. The plane gathered speed, splashing, stuttering and choking. As the sky turned bright gold and pink and the shadow flickered across the endless water, the plane balked, spluttered – and finally, miraculously, lifted across the shining sea, heading east, the sun sending out its dying rays behind it. Darkness was spreading ahead, and the plane looked tiny as it headed into the wide blue sky.

  The Doctor took off his hat and watched in admiration. Then he ran back to the TARDIS, grabbing the hammock as he went. He planned, of course, to follow her. But discreetly this time.

  ‘I should have … She should have come with me,’ said the Doctor fiercely.

  ‘Well, what were you going to do, knock her over the head and carry her into the TARDIS?’ said Yaz, trying to be comforting.

  ‘Never was my style. But if …’ She put her hands on her hair. ‘Oh I don’t know. She’d fought with her father; with every other flyer. I can’t help but wonder if I’d looked a bit more like this … Well. Who knows. She flew all through the night.’

  ‘Did you watch her? I can’t imagine you staying still for that long.’

  There was a long silence. The Doctor looked down at her legs, remembering a longer pair, dangling out of the TARDIS on a tropical night, warm, silent, like a velvet cocoon, the stars popping out like heavy strands of twinkling diamonds.

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘I kept my distance. She didn’t look for me once.’

  ‘But she must have known she couldn’t keep going forever.’

  ‘She did.’

  Amelia felt the ridiculousness of the situation. It was dark. The moon was full, so she could see the lapping waves beneath her but nothing that remotely looked like land. There was no land on the map for another thousand miles. She had fuel for – she looked at her calculations again. Another 323 miles. No matter how she parsed the numbers or slowed down the engine. It would come to the same thing in the end: she’d have to ditch. What if he couldn’t land? Or get to her? He didn’t have a co-pilot as far as she could see.

  The radio crackled into life above the steady roar of the engine. ‘Hallo? Hallo!’

  Amelia rolled her eyes. But what could she do? ‘This is Electra. Over,’ she said.

  ‘Ooh! This is TARDIS! That’s the name of my ship. Except I don’t call her that. I call her … Anyway, it’s me. Over!’

  ‘Yes, I gathered.’ Nonetheless, she decided, she was glad he was there. ‘We’re doing just fine here, TARDIS. Just chasing the dawn. Over.’

  ‘I realise that. I’m so glad to hear your voice! I still have the hammock …’

  Amelia gritted her teeth. ‘Like I said, Electra is doing just fine, thank you.’

  ‘Well, any time you want to come on board … I have cake …’

  ‘Fine for cake, thank you. Over and out.’

  Amelia concentrated. On the horizon there was the simplest line of brightest gold, a tiny hint. Around her there was stillness, the black shifting to the darkest of blues. She would keep going, she resolved. Just the tiniest bit of land. She wasn’t asking much. Somewhere, anywhere. The maps didn’t show every inch of the ocean. She’d found one spit. She could find another.

  Her eyes strained along the endless dark blue water, beginning to lighten at the very eastern reaches into palest turquoise. Somewhere ahead – it could have been five miles, or fifty – another large animal crested the water, bounced and splashed and turned again, oblivious to the two strange ships in the sky above it; caring even less if it had seen them as the drone moved on.

  The fuel gauge was slipping, and Amelia kept found herself drifting off at the controls, that strange, falling-up-a-step feeling when your brain thought it was awake and found to its surprise that it was not. But she had to go on. She had to carry on. There had to be land. There had to be.

  She opened the radio. ‘Calling TAR—’

  ‘I’m here! Yes! I’m here! Hallo!’

  ‘How fast can your airplane travel?’

  ‘Dead fast!’

  ‘Do you think …’ She sighed and looked at the gauge again. ‘Do you think you might go and fetch me some gasoline now?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘No,’ came the voice, and it sounded, suddenly, dreadfully sad.

  ‘Why not?’ said Yaz, sitting up crossly. ‘Why didn’t you just go?’

  ‘Two reasons, both rubbish,’ the Doctor said ruefully. ‘One, if I went, but at appropriate speed, I’d leave her alone for too long. I knew exactly how much fuel she had. She’d have ditched. And two, if I went and looped in time to return immediately … Well, I already knew we were being watched. That there were parasites around, not from Earth; waiting. Waiting for a point to slip through. If I’d messed with time just then …’

  ‘They’d have made it?’

  ‘The universe makes holes all the time,’ said the Doctor. ‘But when there are wolves nearby, you hammer the doors shut. You hammer them tight.’

  ‘OK then,’ said Amelia, and she sounded so weary. ‘Can you go on ahead and see if there’s any land? Even a small amount?’

  ‘There isn’t.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I just do. Let me tow you. Please.’

  Amelia looked at the instruments. The diminishing fuel tank. The place behind her, where Noonan should have been. She had to be honest with herself. She wasn’t going to make it, and she hadn’t been ever since she’d touched down. The reason she was so hostile to this stranger was he was her only hope of getting out of there. And having to rely on someone was absolutely the opposite of the reason why she’d made this trip in the first place.

  She sighed heavily. ‘You really think you can do it in that ship?’

  ‘I do, yes.’

  Amelia turned as far as the cockpit windows would let her see in all directions. The colours of the dawn were now bright all around her, bright wild purples and pinks that made her feel as if she was inside a kaleidoscope. It was so beautiful, it didn’t feel threatening. But it was. The world was hers and hers alone … for just a few moments more.

  She took a deep breath. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘Nothing!’ said the Doctor cheerfully. ‘Well. Catch this.’

  He parked the TARDIS just beside the little plane, close enough to throw the netting to Amelia, who propped the plane and opened the cabin door. She teetered in the open door as the wind blew past them both and the fuel needle bumped along, close to empty. The netting of the hammock, though, was made of a curious material she didn’t recognise, and it felt as strong as steel.

  The Doctor put two thumbs up. ‘Stick it under the fuselage, and let it jam on the wheels! Then you can just glide!’ he yelled over the radio. ‘All the way to—’

  ‘—Howland,’ finished Amelia glumly. ‘I don’t think my sponsors will be too impressed at me getting a tow.’

  ‘Oh, it’s only money.’

  ‘Only people with money ever say that!’

  The engine was stuttering, closer now. She’d left it to the very last minute. There was barely another drop in the tanks.

  They started to drift downwards.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said the Doctor, as Amelia slipped the netting over the wheels. ‘I’ve got you.’

  It was the strangest sensation; a sudden drop, and then the strings held taut and they struck a balance, the little plane holding in the great net of the hammock. It bounced along at an angle, Amelia holding on to stay upright.

  ‘Are you sure you want to stay in there?’ said the Doctor over the radio. ‘I could winch you up here if you like? I’ve got comfy chairs.’

  ‘I’ll stay with my ship thanks,’ said Amelia, even as her teeth chattered in her head and she braced herself against the starboard side.

  ‘OK!’ said the Doctor. ‘Expect a bit of turbulence. But I think I can get you to Howland Island. They’re waiting for you there, right?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘OK, then.’

  ‘I’ll have to … I’ll have to contact Noonan’s family.’

  ‘I know,’ said the Doctor, and there was silence.

  Ahead, the day had fully dawned. The sea was as flat as a millpond, the strange outlined shadows of the two ships racing beneath them, never catching up.

  Amelia stared over the top of the instrument panel. ‘What’s that?’

  She was looking straight ahead; the Doctor was looking back at her.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ahead! Why don’t you have proper windows on that thing?’

  ‘Well, strictly speaking—’

  ‘Ahead! ’

  The Doctor leant out, at an entirely unsafe angle, and gasped.

  Straight ahead of them, cutting a swathe across the bright blue sky was another long vertical line of purple.

  ‘It’s not …?’

  ‘It is,’ said the Doctor grimly. ‘Amelia. You have to come over here.’

  Amelia looked at her plane. ‘Can’t we fly round them?’

  ‘If they reach the ground – or you, or anyone, any fish, any creature in the ocean – then they’ll be here.’

  ‘I’ll stay in my plane.’

  ‘You can’t – you saw what happened to Noonan.’

  Amelia swallowed. ‘Well, why will being in your airplane be any better?’

  ‘It just is.’ He shook the hammock. ’Hurry up! I mean it.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Seal the hole,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘And the ones that have already made it through?’

  The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. ‘One thing at a time! Just move, will you?’

  The Electra was starting to stutter and stop. It was done. Amelia looked back at the control panel sadly and patted it. Then, resolute, she started to climb the hammock rope, a hundred feet up in the air. The wind whistled around as she balanced, precariously, pulling herself hand over hand as the Doctor slowed the TARDIS to the same speed as Electra, so she was effectively climbing a ladder.

  ‘Come on, Earhart,’ he yelled, watching her with admiration. She was absolutely fearless.

  Then his face looked to the side and he frowned.

  ‘What is it?’ said Amelia, concentrating on where she was putting her feet in the netting.

  ‘Nothing! Don’t stop.’ He put his hands over his eyes to see better over the sun, now rising in the sky.

  ‘What is it?’

  The swarm was building in volume now. They had sensed the movement, the possibility of flesh. They were changing direction.

  The Doctor stretched his hand down towards her. ‘Can you move a little faster?’

  Amelia climbed quicker, looking over at the buzzing swarm now heading straight towards them. ‘They’re coming!’

  ‘Then move! Move!’

  Amelia scrambled up the last few inches, grabbed his arm and was just about to jump on board when she felt it. Just the tiniest dot, down, in the gap exposed between her flying suit and her boots. The tiniest of stings.

  ‘Come on! Get on board! Come on!’

  She glanced upwards. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. I’ll be fine. I’ll distract them.’

  ‘Get on board!’ said the Doctor.

  But Amelia had already let go of his hand.

  ‘Could you have handled a swarm in the TARDIS?’ said Yaz, looking around.

  The Doctor scowled. ‘I’d have figured something out.’

  Amelia glanced up. She could feel an itching: a crawling feeling, underneath her skin. She knew exactly what it was. She knew exactly what was going to happen. She shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said and began climbing back down. ‘No. Let them all come to me.’

  ‘Come here!’ shouted the Doctor. ‘I need to fix this!’

  Amelia shook her head once more.

  ‘Gaaah!’ shouted the Doctor, glancing at the swarm. They were still coming through. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’

  He listened for the sound of the Electra. It was still running, on fumes, puttering ahead, just about.

  ‘Well, stay in there, then!’ he said as Amelia reached back into the cockpit. ‘Stay there! I’m going to seal the hole! I’ll be right back! Keep gliding until I get back, then I can fix this and I can fix you, do you hear me?’

  He shouted into the radio until it squealed with feedback.

  ‘I will be right back!’

  Then he jettisoned the hammock, which tumbled on top of the tiny plane, and the TARDIS shot off, directly upwards, following the line to the tiny pinhole in the ozone layer just above the South Pacific.

  He grumbled to himself, closing it with careful stitches, in the full and certain knowledge that humans were only going to open it again; but the scuttling fluttering tiny line of creatures stopped.

  And then they disappeared.

  The Doctor blinked: what had he missed? Where had they gone? He shot the TARDIS back down like a speeding elevator, the colours lightening through every different shade of blue imaginable.

  But there was nothing. Nothing where he had been just a moment before. Nothing in the air; nothing on the sea. He checked and rechecked where he’d been. The TARDIS skimmed elegantly, across the very surface of the sea. There wasn’t a trace to be seen anywhere. Nor was there any hint of Amelia – no scrap of metal, no piece of fuselage; not a single glove, not a slick of oil.

  ‘Where did she … What did she do?’

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘She had her lighter,’ she said. ‘And there was enough spilt fuel around … to shoot through the Losiruz like a chain reaction, blow them all to smithereens.’

  ‘Then surely you’d have seen smoke or …’

  ‘Well, quite,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Are you sure you were in the right spot?’

  ‘I looked. I waited. They’d gone.’

  ‘She blew herself up?’

  ‘I could have … I could have saved her. But she didn’t trust me.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘So you definitely don’t know where she is?’ said Yaz.

  The Doctor blinked rapidly. ‘You mean, did I finally pick her up, floating on the water, terribly burned from the explosion, clean her up, tend her wounds and then the two of us flew around the galaxy for fifty years, free to explore, without worrying about pursuit from newspapermen, from autograph hunters, from sponsors and disapproving family members? Did I eventually gain her trust and respect her enough for us to be true partners? Did she leave behind her Earth-bound life to be remembered as the glorious ultimate symbol of a free spirit and the bravery and power of womanhood that inspired countless millions?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Absolutely not. Anyway, shall we get back?’

  ‘Feeling better?’ asked the Doctor as they headed back to the control room.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Yaz. ‘Yeah I am, thanks.’

  They headed back up the spiral stairs, along and up the twisting staircase. The Doctor paused, just once, before they got to the fish tank, to open a seemingly random cupboard.

  ‘Just checking,’ she said as Yaz peered over her shoulder at the twenty-four large brand new gleaming canisters of gasoline. ‘Just in case,’ she added.

  And she gently shut the cupboard door, and on they went.

  That’s All Right, Mama

  Paul Magrs

  The boy was trying hard not to cry. The other kids had got him into the corner of the schoolyard and they were jeering at him, like they always did. He was covered in dirt from scuffling with some of the boys, and there were smudges of tears on his face.

  Their teacher hadn’t made things any easier for him today. ‘That’s not what I’d call music,’ she’d said, when she got him up at the front of the class and he’d sung for them.

  Now in the schoolyard he had his battered toy guitar slung around his neck and he was staring back at them all defiantly, like he always did. They pushed and jostled and laughed at him. Who did he think he was?

  He started to play. He strummed the few chords he knew, as hard as he could. And he started to sing again. Loudly, and with all his heart and soul. Just to block them out. Just so he couldn’t hear them laughing any more. It was some country song he’d heard on the local radio. He was trying to figure out his own way to sing it. They laughed even more and said he was a hillbilly.

  When they eventually left him alone it was only because his mama had appeared in the schoolyard. She was wearing her housecoat out of doors, brightly coloured and floral. Her hair was awry, which was unusual, too.

  ‘Honey,’ his mother said. ‘We gotta go.’

  Who was he to argue? He was glad to get out of school early. He took her hand and off they went.

  It wasn’t far to their little house. Puzzling thing was, all their belongings seemed to have been dumped outside on the street. They were heaped any old how on the scrubby grass.

  ‘We’re leavin’ today,’ his mama said. ‘We gotta move across town to stay with your daddy’s sister and her man. You understand, don’t you?’