Doctor Who_ Infinite Requiem Part 15

Trinket met her eyes now, and she thought she saw some kind of grat.i.tude there, a recognition of her understanding.

Your exploits have certainly had a great deal of variety to them, Doctor.

The Doctor beamed, as he checked readings and pressed switches here and there. 'Exploits? Oh, yes. The time-s.p.a.ce visualizer carries records of them all.'

Not all, it would appear. Are you aware that there are gaps in the earliest data? data?

'Ah, well.' The Doctor shrugged. 'I did wonder.' His brow creased. 'I always intended to sort that matter out with the Time Lords. It wouldn't surprise me if they h.o.a.rded them on the Matrix for their own self-indulgence.' He became aware that a pool of light was forming in the corner of the room, and so, politely, he addressed it. 'And so what have you discovered about me?'

The light took on the aspect of the malleable face of Sanjay/Kelzen, flickering blood-red in the shadows of the cryptlike room. This time, it spoke, the voice echoing off the stonework. 'Oh, many things, Doctor. You seem . . .

arrogant at times.' The Sensopath smiled. 'You scheme, and manipulate. You are never predictable.'

'Well, I can be. Depends what you predict.' The Doctor grinned and twirled his umbrella nonchalantly. 'Which ones did you see? I'm dying to know.'

And futhermore, continued the silky voice, back inside his head, continued the silky voice, back inside his head, one of your one of your favourite ploys is to pretend to be far less intelligent than you are to give you favourite ploys is to pretend to be far less intelligent than you are to give you time to outthink your enemies when they least expect it. time to outthink your enemies when they least expect it.

The Doctor's broad smile was replaced by a scowl.

In the early days of your current body, I observed, you affected a kind of whim-sical idiocy, in order to mask your darker side.

The Doctor looked away shiftily. 'I don't have a darker side,' he attested, but without much conviction. 'It was all a fabrication of the Matrix.' He looked 122 up, meeting the huge gaze of the image. 'But enough about me!' he said with evident delight. 'Tell me more about yourself.'

Shanstra placed her hand on the curved sh.e.l.l of the Phracton unit and pulled the globe towards her. Dust slithered from it, making Suzi jump back in alarm.

There was a cascade of circuitry from the gash in the side of the globe, attached to the remains of several dry and strangely shaped organs, withered like ancient fruit.

'You did not see what the girl achieved in the square, my beloved,' said Shanstra gently as she pulled the Phracton's internal wires from their housing.

'But you felt it. So much hatred. She wanted it to be directed, not to fester inside her like some cancer. I helped her to focus it.' Shanstra seemed to pause for a moment, almost as if she were pondering the implications of her words.

'Just as I have focused your emotions, dear Suzi.'

Suzi was sitting on an upturned crate and gazing into the distance, because she did not particularly want to see what Shanstra was doing with the Phracton remains. But now she turned her head in the alien's direction, and seemed to be thinking about what Shanstra had said. A flicker of recognition animated the blankness on her face, gave it a tiny hint of its old, human colour back.

Shanstra was holding a grapefruit-sized section of a Phracton organ, on which wires were meshed in a complex web pattern. She took it in her hands like a grail, and held it up to the dim light. There was the faintest of glows from within the ball of alien flesh.

Shanstra smiled. 'So. Not quite dead. These are resilient creatures.'

Suzi was standing over her. 'I want to go back to the library.'

'Let me concentrate, Suzi.' Shanstra did not even deign to look at her. 'There is more than one mind here.'

'You've been leading me on by saying you could bring Colm back to me.

G.o.d, have I been stupid!' Suzi's fringe was fluttering in front of a desperate, angry face, eyes and mouth creased with sadness.

She remembered now. Colm Oswyn was dead.

Colm had left her. The day after she had lost her job, he had gone back to his hypermodel. She'd been making overtures to him via v-mail for months, and his hypermodel. She'd been making overtures to him via v-mail for months, and Colm had been keeping it all a secret he didn't want to let Suzi go unless he Colm had been keeping it all a secret he didn't want to let Suzi go unless he was absolutely sure of success on the other front. was absolutely sure of success on the other front.

She had been so angry. He had been her One, she was sure of it: drunk a little too often, a bit of a know-all, but basically good to her, kind to her. She had too often, a bit of a know-all, but basically good to her, kind to her. She had never wanted to love anyone more. To love him and kill him. never wanted to love anyone more. To love him and kill him.

But she had tried to forget, to enter into her new job with enthusiasm, to begin a new life. There had been gatherings, though, friends' celebrations and begin a new life. There had been gatherings, though, friends' celebrations and parties where they could not avoid one another. The last one being the Tranter parties where they could not avoid one another. The last one being the Tranter 123 123 wedding on Magellani, where Suzi Palsson had seen Colm downing the green dragon c.o.c.ktails all night and wondered, briefly, if he might be an unhappy dragon c.o.c.ktails all night and wondered, briefly, if he might be an unhappy man. And outside, later, when she had seen him slip and lose his footing by the man. And outside, later, when she had seen him slip and lose his footing by the bay, the only witness. bay, the only witness.

He had called out to her, drowning. As the waters closed over his ridiculously bow-tied neck and then his cropped head, Suzi Palsson had watched with interest. bow-tied neck and then his cropped head, Suzi Palsson had watched with interest.

She had made no attempt to save her former lover, for this was the moment that she had been waiting for Fate to bring her, year after year. The moment of she had been waiting for Fate to bring her, year after year. The moment of glorious Suzi power, of ego-revenge. glorious Suzi power, of ego-revenge.

On some worlds but not Magellani she had discovered later that allowing death by omission of action was a crime ranked almost with murder. That made death by omission of action was a crime ranked almost with murder. That made her feel good. Warm and strong inside. It had been almost like killing him, but her feel good. Warm and strong inside. It had been almost like killing him, but without the mess. without the mess.

Then came the nightmares.

Then came the nightmares that were real.

This woman had got inside her head, found the guilt and squeezed it out, like poison from a boil to draw mental strength from the pa.s.sion, Suzi now realized. Not to help her, poor Suzi.

Reality was a friend of hers again, and she saw: Shanstra kneeling on the dust, her horrible face suffused with that parasitic concentration, her hand supporting a withered ball of organic matter which was connected by fibres and ganglia to the shattered globe of the Phracton's travel unit.

Suzi was shaking and sweating. That feeling had returned. The desire to kill the beloved.

The Doctor was listening.

Our race could have abandoned physical form, but we chose not to. There are certain . . . pleasures . . . which a purely spiritual existence does not afford. certain . . . pleasures . . . which a purely spiritual existence does not afford.

The Doctor nodded. He had his eyes closed, but he could still see the face of his pa.s.senger floating in that wasteland of the unused mind. A face warping between human male, handsome, with an echo of Tilusha's stubbornness, and the unnaturally long, broad-lipped face of an alien woman.

We were bonded, Doctor, Shanstra, Jirenal and I. You must understand what this means for a race such as ours. Yes, we had separate processes of mind and this means for a race such as ours. Yes, we had separate processes of mind and body, but we were linked together . . . always responding. body, but we were linked together . . . always responding.

'Telepathic Siamese triplets,' the Doctor said to himself. 'I should have known.'

Yes, Doctor. Yet it is more than that. The nature of the link is such that our thought processes . . . became integrated. Essentially, Shanstra is me, I am our thought processes . . . became integrated. Essentially, Shanstra is me, I am Shanstra and Jirenal is both of us. Shanstra and Jirenal is both of us.

124.

There was a deep, resonant sigh, which seemed to the Doctor to echo through all the pa.s.sageways of the TARDIS before spiralling down to where he stood.

We are One, Doctor. One and the same.

Shanstra was not surprised when she looked up to see the gun pointing between her eyes, and behind it, cold and resolute, the face of Suzi Palsson.

She smiled. She could sense the girl's desperation, her fear, under the sh.e.l.l of her resolve.

'Please, dear Suzi,' said Shanstra gently.

'It's no good. You aren't a G.o.ddess, you're just a parasite.' Suzi's voice wavered, but the gun remained firmly in position. 'It's over, Shanstra.'

Something went wrong. The bonding did not work. Because of an incompat-ibility, perhaps. But by this stage, we were one another. How can a being be incompatible with its own self? incompatible with its own self?

'Don't know. Ridiculous idea,' said the Doctor, a little guiltily. An observer might have seen him dart the briefest of glances at the TARDIS console almost the kind of look a human would give a friend to say, 'Stay out of this, you.'

And so we were declared unsuitable to remain in our society. My relative youth meant that I was unable to control the vast reserves of energy that were now at meant that I was unable to control the vast reserves of energy that were now at our service. To tell you the truth, Doctor, I did not know I still do not know our service. To tell you the truth, Doctor, I did not know I still do not know exactly how we were developing. Jirenal his uncertainty, I think, leads him to rashness. He is keen to experiment. rashness. He is keen to experiment.

'And Shanstra?' asked the Doctor grimly.

She is dangerous. The Sensopath paused. The Sensopath paused. We were given a choice. Total We were given a choice. Total annihilation, or an existence, outside time. To drift for eternity, with only our annihilation, or an existence, outside time. To drift for eternity, with only our unity of mind for companionship. And so we chose the vortex. unity of mind for companionship. And so we chose the vortex.

'And something happened,' mused the Doctor. A light was gently pulsing on the grey surface of the console, he noticed. 'You were scattered through history.'

A freak accident.

'Oh, I hardly think so.' The Doctor shook his head. 'I think Shanstra was just beginning to show the extent of her powers.'

Dust billowed across the ashen landscape. Suzi Palsson was conscious of herself and Shanstra, like two figures in some tableau, the grey dust clinging to them and turning them into living statues. One holding a gun to the other.

A thought was growing in her mind. A picture, in wild, angry technicolour.

She tried to suppress it, knowing it had been placed there.

125.

'No,' she said firmly. 'No!'

She thought of the shattered library, the wisdom of a colony, a culture, lying in ruins, even if the building was still near intact.

She saw the images had stabbed into her mind from Shanstra's the destruction wrought by the huntress in Londinium Plaza. She knew what had happened there: desire had been made concrete, and for all she knew, it could have destroyed the girl.

She saw the face of Colm Oswyn hovering like the mask of a ghost on the face of the woman in front of him. His hair rippled, soaking wet, and his eyes stared whitely at her.

White light burst outwards from the eyes, engulfing her. She was aware of the gun growing hot in her hands as the face of Shanstra-Colm, its eyes gushing liquid fire, lifted up, hollow and horrible like a Hallowe'en phantom.

The thought had penetrated into reality. And the gun in Suzi's hand sizzled and melted to a stub of metal. She cried out as it burnt her hand, and it dropped, scattering globules of metal.

There was silence.

Shanstra was above her, placing a hand on her quaking shoulder. 'You see?'

she said gently. 'Your mind belongs to me now. There is really nothing you can do about it. And when the time comes for the music of the Infinite Requiem, you will hardly notice or care anyway.'

'Infinite . . . ?' Suzi's throat was dry. Her lips felt detached from her body, and she was aware of her limbs succ.u.mbing to cramp.

'I have discovered the most powerful mental focus on this world.' Shanstra held up the soft globe of flesh, encased in its mesh of wires leading into the remains of the Phracton. 'These cyborgs exist on a network of minds, a mental grid. Their thought processes will be ideal for the refocusing of all my latent powers. And then I shall be able to reunite, across time, with my other selves.'

Shanstra closed her eyes.

She guided her thoughts like a heat-seeking missile into the web, tearing up node after node of energy. Phracton minds, confused as to what was happening, reached out, but could not grasp the slippery intruder.

Shanstra's mental missile lodged home.

It burst, scattering thought- shrapnel, deep inside a coc.o.o.n of hatred, anger, xenophobia.

Deep in the mind of the Phracton designated 4Z-88* the Secondary Commandant of the Gadrell Major expeditionary unit.

'Go, my children,' said Shanstra, a whisper, a light but inescapable suggestion in the heart of the web. 'Let your hatred, your anger, emerge. Begin your attack.'

126.

And from the Secondary's mind, it cracked, shattered, spilled. Like one domino, knocking a huge and intricate tree of more dominoes, sending pulses out Saying KILL>>>>KILL>>>>KILL>>>> KILL>>>>KILL>>>>KILL>>>> 127 127

Part Three

MIND CITADEL.

Only those who have lived all their lives under the dark clouds of vague, undefined fears can appreciate the joy of a doubting soul suddenly born into the kingdom of reason and free thought. Is the bondage of the priest-ridden less galling than that of the slave, because we do not see the chains, the indelible scars, the festering wounds, the deep degradation of all the powers of the G.o.dlike mind?

Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1860)

16.

Media, Messages

The TARDIS did not actually materialize close to its last landing place. It shimmered into view on top of a rocky outcrop, and the Doctor was outside almost immediately with his portable telescope.

The city squatted on the horizon in one direction, hazed by red smoke and dust. The Doctor turned slowly, scanning the bleak, reddish landscape, until 'Aha,' he said. 'Terran ship, if I'm not mistaken.' The gla.s.sy pinnacle, which had looked at first like a spar of rock, jutted up quite clearly now, incongruously technological among the sunset-coloured rocks.

There was a rustle at his shoulder, a shift of molecules like a silk curtain opening into another world.

The Sensopath, over two metres tall, stood at the Doctor's side and towered over him. He looked up from the eyepiece, and did a double take. The alien seemed to have appropriated another of the Doctor's old items of clothing: the electric-blue cloak of mourning which he had worn on his visit to Necros. His old shirt with the questioning lapels hung loosely over an unmistakably fem-inine body, and lush cascades of hair fell to the waist. The spindly hands had developed still further, and looked full of hidden strength. The Sensopath's eyes were green, but dull, like unpolished stones, beneath the coronet of the thought-wave damper from the TARDIS.

'Well?' the Doctor said grimly.

'Oh, yes, I can sense her.' The mouth moved like blood. 'She is so close.'

'Good. Stay there. No closer.'

'Doctor.' Kelzen's voice was commanding. 'This is me we are dealing with.

I will find it difficult to resist communion with what is, essentially, my own mind.'