Doctor Who_ Shakedown Part 15

Several areas became shaded in.

'Focus on area with highest security rating.'

The screen went blank. Words appeared: 'PLEASE STATE PURPOSE OF ENQUIRY.'

'So that high-security area can be avoided,' said Bernice.

She waited. No human would fall for it of course. But computers were literal-minded and trusting.

The map reappeared and then closed in on a large circular area close to the centre of the University. The area was completely blanked out.

'State official designation of high-security area.'

Lettering appeared across the blank area: 'ACCESS DENIED.'

Bernice thought hard. Computers can deny you information, but they don't lie. Zemar's drunken ramblings came back to her.

'Query. Is the forbidden area designated as a Temple?'

'Partially confirmed.'

'Query. Is forbidden area designation "Temple of the Shining Ones"?'

'Confirmed.'

'Gotcha!' said Bernice Summerfield. She leaned forward and began memorizing the map. When she was sure that she had it in her head, she shut down her terminal and went off to lunch.

After another unbearably healthy meal of salad and fruit juice, Bernice went back to her room and changed into the clothes she'd arrived in. She ran into Hapiir in the courtyard and he looked at her in surprise.

'I trust you are not leaving us, Domina?'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' said Bernice sweetly. 'But I've spent so much time peering into a terminal my head's getting fuzzy. I've decided to take the afternoon off and go for a walk.'

'I should be honoured to act as your guide.'

'No, no,' said Bernice, a little too hastily.

Hapiir looked hurt. 'But it is my duty to look after your welfare, Domina. I a.s.sure you that you would enjoy your walk much more with an informed guide such as myself.'

He sounded genuinely concerned. Was it all an act? Did he plan to lead her into another trap? In any event, she could scarcely set off on a spying mission with Hapiir trailing along, twittering out a commentary on the local beauty spots.

'It's just that I need to think out the next stage of my research,' she said hurriedly. 'Company even such pleasant company as yours would only be a distraction.'

Hapiir was mollified. 'I understand, Domina. All scholars need solitude. I hope you will enjoy your walk. There are many pleasant places to be seen in the city. May I suggest you visit the water gardens? Or the Alien Plant Garden?'

She had to listen to a long list of tourist attractions before she could manage to get free. At last they exchanged bows and Bernice went on her way.

She strolled on, apparently at random, through the innumerable courtyards that linked the buildings of the Great Library. Even though Sentarion itself was basically a desert planet, Sentarion City was extensively irrigated and there were fountains everywhere. There were frequent parks and gardens'

filled with exotic flowers, some native to Sentarion, others, Bernice guessed, imported from distant planets.

At first fellow-strollers were frequent, and Bernice found herself exchanging bows with a variety of life-forms. But as time went on and she began to approach her goal the lanes and courtyards became silent and deserted and an eerie hush filled the air.

After a long walk through deserted streets and pa.s.sageways, she came at last to a great crystal arch set into a high stone wall. At the crown of the arch a glowing sphere pulsed with light.

Beyond the arch was a vast paved courtyard, and on the far side of the courtyard rose an enormous dome, with steps rising up to its entrance.

She had found the Temple.

Bernice stopped and looked around her. She had expected Harrubtii guards or electronic defences, but perhaps there was no need for them. The Temple was protected by its own sacred status. No one on Sentarion would dare to invade its secrets.

No one but Bernice Summerfield.

She walked through the crystal arch, pa.s.sing beneath the glowing sphere and felt an immediate chill. Not just the chill of fear, though that was part of it, but a literal physical chill.

On the other side of the arch, the air was cold.

It became colder still as she crossed the vast open courtyard and mounted the steps that led to the arched entrance to the Temple.

Bernice went inside and stood looking about her in awe.

She was standing inside an enormous crystal dome, so huge that cloud vapours drifted across its ceiling. In the centre of the dome floated a vast glowing sphere.

All round the walls of the dome there were pictures, elaborate murals that told a continuing story. Bernice followed them round, moving from left to right. As she paused in front of each mural it glowed into life, each picture fading as she moved on and the next came to life.

The story began with savage battles, armies of Sentarrii soldier-ants locked in combat. Then a vast orb appeared, a gateway through which floated glowing spheres.

The Sentarrii bowed down and worshipped them.

In subsequent murals the spheres floated over the Sentarrii, teaching them, changing them. The Sentarrii built cities.

developed ornithopters, learned to live in peace.

Finally, after many generations, the shining towers of the Great Library rose high, and beings from other planets came to share their culture with the wise and benevolent Sentarrii.

There were no words, but none were needed. The whole story was there in the pictures. Bernice found herself moved and awed.

She stepped back from the murals and found herself surrounded by the Harrubtii.

They stood around her in a circle, eyes glowing red with hate, black carapaces gleaming, the long thin spikes projecting from their narrow faces. They were thirsting for her blood.

Bernice knew she was as good as dead.

The Harrubtii had killed Lazio Zemar simply for speaking of the Shining Ones. She had profaned their sacred Temple.

One of the Harrubtii launched itself at her, and doomed or not, Bernice instinctively fought back.

She sidestepped, grabbed the creature in mid air and flipped it over. Shrieking furiously it crashed to the ground and spun helplessly on the polished floor like like a beetle on its back.

But there were more beetles, too many of them. As the Harrubtii closed in again, Bernice knew it was only a matter of time. They would mob her now, and as soon as the long spikes plunged into her flesh, sucking out her life, she would be too weak to struggle.

The Harrubtii poised to spring and a great voice called, 'Stop!'

The Harrubtii froze and Bernice turned to see the giant form of the Lord Chancellor stalking towards them, his black robe flapping about the segmented insectoid body. An entourage of Faculty members followed behind him.

For a moment the Harrubtii seemed ready to defy him.

Their voices made up a chorus of hate.

'She must die, Lord,' one of them hissed. 'She has blasphemed the Holy Place.'

'Would you spill blood, here in the Temple itself?' boomed the Chancellor.

'It is the Temple that she has blasphemed, Lord. It is fitting that her blood should cleanse it.'

'She was a blasphemer from the first,' said another of the Harrubtii. 'We were warned of her coming. We sought to destroy her, but she evaded us with her cunning.'

'When we saw her intention we drew back our guards and opened the way to the Temple. Now she has condemned herself by her own actions.'

'Give her to us, Lord. She is a blasphemer. She must die.'

The Lord Chancellor's voice boomed out. 'Blasphemer she may be but I choose to grant her the Sanctuary of the Temple.

I tell you that here, in the Temple, her blood may not be spilled.'

There were hisses of protest. 'You cannot do this, Lord!'

'I can and I do. The outer precincts of the Temple are in your charge, but the Temple is my domain. Go! I shall deal with her.'

Dragging away their wounded fellow, the Harrubtii retreated.

Bernice drew several deep breaths, and tried to stop herself from shaking.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'Believe it or not, I can explain.'

'I fear not,' said the deep voice. 'No explanation can possibly justify what you have done.'

'Well, thank you for saving me.'

'I have not saved you, Domina. The Harrubtii are right.

You have blasphemed the Temple. You can never leave here alive.'

9.

Crisis Lisa Deranne stormed into the control room of the solar yacht Tiger Moth Tiger Moth waving a plasti-paper flimsy. waving a plasti-paper flimsy.

'b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' she said. 'Stupid, useless, careless, reckless b.a.s.t.a.r.d!'

A lean, grizzled old man looked up from a control panel.

He had close-cropped grey hair and a scrubby grey moustache, and he wore the khaki coveralls of an engineer.

'What'd I do?' he asked mildly.

His voice retained the slow drawl of New America, his home planet, even though he hadn't seen it for years.

'Not you, Robar, you old fool Alexi. He's pulled out.'

She pa.s.sed him the sub-s.p.a.ce radio message.

Robar read it aloud. "Greatly regret financial problems a.s.sociated recent market fluctuations preclude keeping solar racing commitments..." '

'In other words, our brilliant young financial entrepreneur has taken one flyer too many and lost his stake. And he's lost us the Inter-Systems Solar as well. We're one crewman and a quarter of a million credits short.'

'Yup,' said Robar thoughtfully. 'And I guess it's the credits that count!'

Lisa Deranne had done two men's work before and she could do it again, but her Inter-Systems entry was budgeted down to the very last credit.

Lisa threw herself down in the pilot's chair. Even in plain silver s.p.a.ce coveralls, her black hair dragged back by her communications headset, she was a strikingly beautiful woman, with high cheekbones and expressive dark eyes. It was a strong, determined face, marred by the worry lines of constant strain.

Lisa Deranne was one of the finest solar yacht captains in the tri-planetary system. But solar racing was an incredibly expensive sport, and Lisa's only resources were her racing skills. Mostly she worked for hire, a professional captain for wealthy owners. She did the work, they got the prizes.

This time was going to be different. She'd put together her own syndicate. Alexi, Zorelle, Mari and Nikos, four wealthy socialites with the necessary cash and a reasonable modic.u.m of racing experience.

With the money they'd put up between them, she'd bought an old s.p.a.ce-clipper and converted it for solar racing, rechristening it Tiger Moth Tiger Moth. Her contribution was her skill, offering the others the chance of a trophy they'd never get near without her.

Up to now. Lisa Deranne had been feeling confident. She had a good ship, and a good enough crew. With her at the helm, Tiger Moth Tiger Moth could win. could win.