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  After that, it was a simple matter to capture the other two. He wanted them all where he could see them. He would leave nothing to chance. Or to prophecy.

  ‘What happened?’ the earthling named Graham asked the others.

  ‘We lost a race to a patio,’ replied the young female.

  The earthlings were of little importance, but the Time Lord was another matter. Hadn’t the First Gardener herself allied with this Doctor’s predecessors? And now, so many seasons later, Gardener and Time Lord were brought together again. The circularity pleased Nightshade. However, unlike his illustrious ancestor, he couldn’t rely on this Time Lord to help him in his mission.

  He had pursued her since Tellus IV, where, having missed the opportunity to stop her there, he had destroyed the Rose Garden of Eternity. If he was honest with himself, he had done so in a fit of pique, for its destruction had not laid his fears to rest. The prophecy in the flowers had not withered along with the blooms. The Doctor had remained a threat – until now. He had chased her round the moon of Tartarus, and through the Vordanian maelstrom. Now she was at his mercy, and he was not known for his merciful nature. He would dispense with her soon enough. For the moment, he relished the near-instantaneous travel afforded by her timeship, so he had to tolerate her existence a while longer. It was essential that he be present when Vault Thirteen fell, but only she could pilot the TARDIS.

  ‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’ said the young male.

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘Once you’ve heard one villainous monologue, you’ve heard ’em all.’

  Nightshade ignored their prattling, and reflected on his own journey. Of course, there had been setbacks along the way – failure and sacrifice and so much death – but they signified nothing when viewed in the long planting of the universe. And, like the rest of his kind, Nightshade held endless reserves of patience. However, even he felt the quickening of anticipation. After all these years, his time was coming.

  ‘I still don’t understand how he found the TARDIS,’ said the young female.

  There was a movement at the edge of the console room, and one of the Gardener troops returned from the TARDIS’s interior. He held something in his gloved hands, but it was obscured in shadow.

  ‘Tracking device,’ said the Doctor. ‘A plant.’

  Clutched in the soldier’s grasp they now saw the familiar begonia.

  ‘Greetings, Gray-ham, Giver of Water.’ Its leaves fluttered like contemptuous laughter.

  Graham regarded his houseplant with confusion. ‘You?’

  ‘The gardening boot is on the other foot now, eh, my friend?’

  ‘Who wears gardening boots?’ Graham shook his head in sadness and disbelief. He gestured to Nightshade. ‘What did he promise you, eh? A sunnier window? A bigger pot?’

  ‘Perhaps this will teach you not to go off to Blackpool and forget to water your houseplants. You monster. You killed her.’ The plant’s voice caught. ‘My succulent darling, Vera.’

  Graham winced. He did remember managing to kill off several plants through neglect. Even the hardy aloe had withered under his care. But, still, that hardly merited selling out the entire universe to a cult of plant-mad aliens, did it?

  ‘Enough.’ When Nightshade finally spoke, they all heeded his word.

  * * *

  —

  Vault Thirteen was not as they had left it. Snow fell silently through the air, coating the stone trees and covering the ground in a crisp white layer. It fell on the roof of the TARDIS. Yaz turned her face up and saw through the blizzard that a large section of the roof was gone. The noughtweed, which had penetrated the shield wall guarding the entrance, had worked its way into the very rock, weakening the structure until it had fallen in on itself. The vault was open to the frozen skies of Calufrax Major, and with its defences down the Doctor had been able to fly right into its heart.

  The noxious weed was everywhere: coating the walls, entwined round the stone trees, sprouting from every crack. Smashed seed jars littered the snow, their contents exposed. Many were ruined, killed off by the freezing elements, but a few of the hardier super-fast germinators had sprung to life. Around the vault, green shoots poked out of the snow, and red and blue flowers bloomed in the unlikely surroundings. Some of the blooms snapped and gnashed, but even the Venusian gulpers were no match for the all-consuming noughtweed. It smothered everything in its path; writhing, multiplying, unstoppable. It had reached the wooden door and was working on making its way through the paralock, guzzling down aeons of time like water.

  Gardener troops stood guard around the vault. The Attendant was their prisoner, every segment of its legs tightly bound by weaponised garden twine. Under Nightshade’s wary eye, the Doctor and her companions were marched across the room.

  ‘Before the end of the day, my noughtweed will open a door that has been locked for millennia,’ he crowed. ‘The Genesis Seed will be mine.’

  ‘Why wait?’ said the Doctor. ‘Let me open it for you.’ She dangled the TARDIS key in front of him.

  Nightshade regarded the Doctor with deep suspicion. He had confiscated two of the vault keys, but hadn’t known the identity of the third. Until now.

  ‘Doctor!’ hissed Yaz. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Trust me,’ she said, and was immediately distracted by a gangling plant nearby. It had shot up, beanstalk-like, from its obliterated seed jar. Dozens of waxy pods dangled from its stems. ‘Doppelpods,’ she said delightedly, striking off towards it through the snow. ‘Haven’t tried these since I visited the Celestial Potting Sheds of Uzamox.’ She plucked a pod and popped it open to reveal half a dozen purple pea-like fruits inside. She tossed them into her mouth – then immediately spat them back out again. ‘Forgot how disgusting they are,’ she muttered.

  ‘Uh, Doctor,’ said Ryan. ‘How about we save the universe first and snack after?’

  ‘Give me the key,’ commanded Nightshade, reaching for it.

  The Doctor snatched it up and away from him. ‘Okay, here’s the deal,’ she said. ‘I’ll open the door on the condition that you release my friends and the Attendant unharmed.’ She cut off his objection. ‘Sure, you could wait for your slithery friend to do its stuff, but what if the contents are damaged when the vault breaks? What if there’s some fiendish ancient booby trap that’s triggered by an unauthorised entry? What if it gives me time to think of a better plan?’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Why take the risk?’

  Nightshade was silent as he considered the offer. He gave a solemn nod.

  Yaz couldn’t blame him. He didn’t have to trust the Doctor, since he held all the cards. What did he have to lose?

  ‘Onwards.’ Pulling her coat round her, the Doctor crunched on through the snow and circled the pool, edging past the slippery noughtweed vines half submerged in the strange, time-frozen water like the tentacles of a colossal sea monster. As she moved past the Attendant, it lunged in fury, only prevented from reaching her by the firmness of its bonds.

  Yaz had no doubt that the beetle was telepathically hurling insults into the Doctor’s head.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ Ryan pleaded.

  Stepping carefully round the noughtweed, the Doctor waved her key over the door. A lock popped into existence.

  ‘Quantum superposition,’ she noted. ‘Lock and key are linked on a subatomic level. Each is simultaneously there and not there. Very interest–’ She caught Nightshade’s impatient expression and offered up the TARDIS key.

  He studied it for several seconds. ‘No. You open it,’ he said, handing over the other two keys.

  ‘Suspicious fellow, aren’t we?’ she said. ‘All right, then. Ryan? Graham?’

  Ryan took the copper-coloured key they’d acquired on New Phaeton with its delicate engraving. Graham collected the polished silver key from the mole creature’s lair, which in this light had a green hue and glistened like grass after a rainstorm. The Doctor gripped the TARDIS k
ey. On the face of it an ordinary if tarnished Yale key, it was in reality a highly advanced piece of technology, with a plasmic shell incorporating a low-level perception filter, resistant to almost anything but prolonged exposure to lava, and designed to unlock the double-curtain trimonic barrier installed on the Type 40.

  ‘Ready?’ said the Doctor.

  Yaz watched her friends, their keys poised to unlock the door. The first time they had visited Vault Thirteen, the Attendant had warned them that the Genesis Seed was the most dangerous in existence, a device of unimaginable power. Here they were, about to release it.

  ‘Okay, people,’ said the Doctor. ‘The keys must be turned at precisely the same moment, or the door will not open.’

  Ryan pushed his key into the first of the three locks that had appeared in the wooden door. Billions of years parted before it as easily as a curtain. Graham followed his example, and the Doctor slid the TARDIS key into the third lock.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘On the count of three. One…t–’

  ‘Wait!’ Graham held up a hand.

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Ryan gasped. Adrenaline was coursing through his body, and his hand was shaking with the responsibility of the moment.

  ‘Do we turn on three or after three?’ Graham asked.

  ‘It’s always on. Who turns after?’ The Doctor gave a tut. ‘Let’s try that again.’ She paused. ‘One…two…three!’

  Ryan felt his key turn smoothly in the lock. He held his breath, waiting to discover if they had timed it correctly. He didn’t have to wait long. With a series of clunks, the door swung open. Before them lay the inner vault, shrouded in darkness.

  The Doctor drew herself up to her full height, her expression at once darker and more alien than the others had ever seen. She began to recite in a low voice.

  ‘I watched as he opened the sixth seal. There was a great earthquake. The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as figs drop from a fig tree when shaken by a strong wind.’

  A fearful silence settled over them.

  Then the Doctor grinned. ‘Who wants to go first?’

  The inner vault was empty.

  In his hurry to cross the threshold, Nightshade hadn’t objected when the Doctor and her companions filed in behind him. A thin layer of dust coated the flagstone floor of what was a windowless chamber. Rough-hewn walls arched above them, shadowy alcoves built into either side. The only light came from the door through which they’d entered.

  Yaz knew that the room had lain undisturbed for an unimaginably long time, yet she felt a strong presence, as if the last occupant had just stepped out.

  ‘Where is it?’ Nightshade dropped to the floor, and began to frantically scour the dust-laden surface.

  ‘Maybe this is an antechamber,’ said Graham. ‘And, y’know, the Chamber of Secrets or whatever is next door. Look for one of those candlestick things attached to a wall.’

  ‘You mean a wall sconce?’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So we can pull it. That’s what you do.’ He stepped further into the room. ‘You pull on the wall sconce and a secret passage op–’

  ‘Don’t move!’ commanded the Doctor, flinging out a hand to restrain him.

  Graham froze, one foot outstretched, while the Doctor knelt down and gently drew a circle in the dust. At the centre of it was a single, tiny seed.

  Taking it gently between index finger and thumb, she lifted it into the light.

  Nightshade scrabbled to her side, then stopped. He gazed at the seed, at first too stunned to react.

  Yaz knew she was meant to feel awestruck, but the reality was that it just looked like a completely average seed. ‘Is that it?’

  The Doctor turned the seed over in her fingers, inspecting it from every angle as if that might reveal its secrets. ‘Apple, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘The Genesis Seed,’ breathed Nightshade. ‘You hold in your hand the very beginning of the universe. A seed of the tree from which everything around us grew. And with it we shall begin again.’

  Slowly, the truth began to dawn on the Doctor’s companions.

  ‘The Genesis Seed comes from an apple tree?’ said Yaz.

  ‘Are you saying…Is this…the Tree of…N-n-n-no,’ Ryan stuttered.

  Graham shook his head in wonder. ‘I don’t Adam and Eve it.’

  ‘If you’re asking me if this is a seed from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden,’ said the Doctor. ‘Then the answer is…could be. How did it get here? Funny thing about beginnings. Even civilisations at opposite ends of the universe often tell the same story about where they came from. That’s the power of stories for you.’

  ‘The soil must be turned,’ Nightshade intoned.

  ‘Chanting ominous phrases is all very well.’ The Doctor sighed. ‘But what, exactly, are we talking about here? How does this tiny little seed bring about the end of everything? Hmm? Entropy wave that causes universal heat death? Reality bomb? Dimensional transference triggered by a black-light explosion? Every star exploding at every point in history? Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.’ She turned to her companions. ‘There is actually a T-shirt commemorating my epic saves. Got it in the gift shop on the planet Shada. Terrible place. Designed so that once you’re in you can never find your way out.’

  ‘It is time for this universe to be dug over in preparation for the next,’ said Nightshade. ‘The Genesis Seed is not unlike noughtweed, but it works on an unimaginably larger scale.’

  The Doctor stood at the edge of one of the dark alcoves. The seed lay on her palm, an insignificant speck no bigger than a single teardrop. ‘Try me. I have a big imagination.’

  Nightshade gazed at the seed with the flame-bright eyes of a true believer. ‘Soon after germination begins, a hole will form in the space around the seed. A black hole of unfathomable magnitude. Roots will spring forth from the abyss, reaching out across the event horizon, winding endlessly through the universe, overrunning everything in their path, tearing apart the fabric of space. All this will happen in the first few seconds after germination. Then galaxies, solar systems, individual life forms will break free from their gravitational bonds and be sucked down into the black hole. This universe, along with everything in it, will be planted in the deepest reaches. The soil will close overhead and the screams of the dying will be as birdsong to the dawn of the new universe that will arise from the remnants of the old. Life is unimportant. All are fertiliser in the end.’

  The shocked silence that followed was broken by a commotion from outside: shouts and the blast of weapon fire. A moment later, the Attendant whirled into the inner vault and, its mandibles snapping like scissors, tackled Nightshade to the floor. The other Gardeners were not far behind. They jumped on to the beetle, straining to pull it off their leader.

  In the ensuing scuffle, a Gardener warrior grabbed Graham, who yelled, ‘Get off me, you overgrown privet hedge!’

  Nightshade got to his feet, seemingly unruffled by the assault. He faced the Doctor and stuck out a hand. ‘It is time.’

  The Doctor hesitated, then surrendered the seed.

  ‘No! What have you done?’ The Attendant levelled its telepathic wrath with such force that it rang in every head.

  From somewhere deep within himself, Graham summoned the strength to shake off his captor. Desperate to help save the day, he rushed headlong at Nightshade, but covered only a few steps before he was intercepted. He glimpsed the butt of a black-ash blaster descending, then a light exploded in his head, and that was the last he knew.

  ‘Graham!’

  Ryan and Yaz ran to help, but were prevented from reaching him by a wall of Gardeners. As they were forced away from their friend, Yaz struggled to comprehend the Doctor’s actions. Why had she given up the seed so easily? Surely she didn’t trust
Nightshade to keep his end of the deal? She felt the prod of a weapon in her back, and followed the Attendant, who was putting up a furious fight, outside. In the chaos, she saw that the Doctor had somehow got ahead of her and was now standing silently behind Ryan.

  As Yaz emerged from the inner vault, the ground shook and a loosened boulder crashed into the pool. The stone trees were splintering under the crushing pressure of the noughtweed. The shield wall flickered as it lost power. Vault Thirteen was in its death throes.

  From above came the roar of engines. Yaz looked up to see one of the scoop-shaped craft that had devastated Tellus IV descend through the blizzard, its hot engines bright against the leaden sky. It manoeuvred neatly through the open roof, then levelled off. The landing gear unfolded, and the craft touched down, settling in a deep drift of snow.

  ‘Take the saplings aboard,’ Nightshade commanded. Gardener warriors grabbed Ryan and Yaz, and began hauling them towards the ship. ‘It is fitting that two of your young will bear witness to the moment of new growth.’

  ‘Hey!’ Yaz wrestled with her captors. ‘He is not Adam, and I am definitely not Eve.’

  ‘Doctor, do something!’ yelled Ryan.

  The Doctor didn’t reply, just stood at the edge of the pool, watching in silence. Her expression was one that Yaz had never seen before: glassy, empty. Defeated. Had she really given up?

  ‘And you, Time Lord,’ said Nightshade. ‘You stand for the old universe. Console yourself with the knowledge that your young companions will share the moment of my triumph, but you –’ he raised a hand – ‘have pruned my plans once too often.’