#the deviant strain

Then another thought occurred to her. ‘Hey, why don’t they think I’ve got a strange name? I mean, it’s not very Russian, is it?’ ‘It’s like you hearing what they say but not how they say it. What the TARDIS does for you,’ the Doctor explained, keeping his voice low. They were almost at the stones now and Barinska was swinging the car in a wide arc, slowing down. ‘You hear English from them, they hear Russian from you, including your name. It just sort of fits.’ ‘You mean, I’m like Rosetska Tylerov or something?’ ‘Don’t look at me. I’m probably Doctorsky.’ She thought about this and laughed again

I used to think I was scared by death. Or by facing death – by combat and action and the uncertainty of the battlefield. Not any more. No, now what scares me is the possibility I might live to grow old. I might wake up one day tired and wasted and unable even to open a beer. I might need crutches and a hearing aid and help getting dressed. When and if I get to that point, it’ll be my memories that’ll keep me going. The fact that I’ve lived through so much, survived so much, to get there.

Alex Minin looked up from his paperwork to find the Doctor sitting in the chair on the other side of his desk. He gave a gasp of surprise. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you,’ the Doctor said. Though his grin suggested he’d in fact meant to do just that.

Jack ignored him. ‘I used to think I was scared by death. Or by facing death – by combat and action and the uncertainty of the battlefield. Not any more. No, now what scares me is the possibility I might live to grow old. I might wake up one day tired and wasted and unable even to open a beer. I might need crutches and a hearing aid and help getting dressed. When and if I get to that point, it’ll be my memories that’ll keep me going. The fact that I’ve lived through so much, survived so much, to get there. Do you want to get old?’ he asked, prodding Sergeyev in the chest. ‘Do you want to end up with only your memories to make up for the loss of your faculties?’ He pointed across the room. ‘Look at her. Look! She’s there already. Nineteen, and she can barely walk on her own. She should be looking forward to her whole life, not staring at the end of it and wondering what happened. If she can wonder at all.’ Sergeyev didn’t reply. Jack held his gaze for a moment more, then turned away. ‘Get out,’ he said. ‘Go and do something useful, while you still can.’

‘And you think your plan will work?’ Jack asked. ‘Yeah, no problem.’ The Doctor nodded vigorously. ‘Well, maybe a few problems, but it’ll work.’