Doctor Who_ The Fall Of Yquatine Part 17

The Doctor was murmuring, head lolling on Zendaak's shoulder.

President Vargeld nodded to the troopers. 'Do as he says, but stay hot.'

Zendaak carried the Doctor round to where President Vargeld stood, the senators in a ragged semicircle around him.

Tibis brought forward a chair into which Zendaak lowered the Doctor. Medics cl.u.s.tered round, scanning instruments busy. 'He's OK,' said one of them in surprise. 'A little shaken, but OK.'

Zendaak nodded curtly. 'Then it is a good job I got to him in time.' He waved a claw at the isolation chamber, where the floor was melting under the acid drops produced by the gas creature. As they watched, the deadly rain thinned out and stopped.

President Vargeld wasn't sure if it was a good job. 'Why did you rescue him, Zendaak? Why did you risk your life?'

Zendaak fixed the President with a narrow-eyed stare. 'He could prove the innocence of the Anthaurk race!'

President Vargeld had expected this. Just about everything Zendaak did was to further the interests of his own species. 'That remains to be seen. We don't even know who he is.'

The Doctor opened his eyes. They were completely normal, a bright blue with a slightly manic light. He groaned, leaned over the side of the chair and vomited on the tiled floor of the laboratory.

'Sorry about that,' he croaked. 'Why are you all staring at me?'

Everyone began shouting questions at him until President Vargeld called for silence.

'I'll tell you all you want to know, but not now,' said the Doctor hoa.r.s.ely. 'Be in the Senate chamber in half an hour. My need for hot, sweet tea has never been greater.'

Exactly thirty minutes later, refreshed by several cups of Luvian tea, the Doctor stood in the centre of the makeshift Senate chamber on Aloysius, his back to the circular s.p.a.ce window. He had the complete and undivided attention of everyone in the room. Great.

'While that creature was trapped in my respiratory bypa.s.s system,' he began, ignoring the puzzled frowns, 'I was able to commune with it.'

'Commune?' said President Vargeld, with a suspicious glare. Clearly, he was going to believe only what he wanted to believe.

'Yes, telepathically.' The Doctor could tell that the man thought he was still possessed. The creature had taken him over very briefly, but it wasn't very bright, and certainly no match for a Time Lord mind. 'I know exactly what it is and what it wants.'

'And how to destroy it?' said President Vargeld.

The Doctor pursed his lips. Hadn't there been enough destruction? 'I'll come to that. Now, these creatures call themselves Omnethoth. It's a rather bombastic name, quite meaningless, designed to instil fear. Just like their p.r.o.nouncement "solid mortals" indeed!'

'Designed?' rumbled Senator Krukon.

The Doctor loved giving explanations, especially when he had a large audience. 'Yes. Designed. You see, these Omnethoth aren't a naturally evolved, sentient species, though they'd like to think they are. They are or rather it is a weapon.'

There were several exclamations of alarm.

'An Anthaurk weapon!' cried Fandel, predictably.

The Doctor wagged a long, bony finger. 'No, no. Despite their rather militaristic bent, the Anthaurk are totally innocent of the destruction of Yquatine.'

Zendaak's lipless mouth expanded in a wide grin. The Doctor almost expected him to say 'I told you so', but apparently the Anthaurk weren't familiar with the expression.

'If you're expecting an apology then you're seriously deluding yourself,' said President Vargeld. 'Before the Omnethoth attack we were on the brink of war!'

'I do not want you to apologise,' hissed Zendaak. 'Just accept the truth.'

There was a dangerous edge to the Anthaurk senator's voice. The Doctor resolved to keep an eye on him. He coughed loudly, to return attention to himself. 'The truth', he announced, pointing at his own head, 'resides in here, if you'd care to listen.'

'We're listening,' grated Krukon, with a baleful glare at Zendaak.

The Doctor continued. 'The Omnethoth were developed millennia ago by a race they call the Masters.' He frowned. 'Terrible choice of name. Anyway, these Masters made the mistake of many ancient races who believed themselves invulnerable. They decided to rule the universe and created a sentient weapon which turned against them' The Doctor sighed and smoothed his left eyebrow with his little finger. 'Silly billies.'

'So, how did the things end up here, now?' asked the President.

The Doctor shrugged. 'Apparently the Omnethoth died out millions of years ago, but before they did they seeded the universe with colonisation clouds' He looked at Vargeld thoughtfully. 'Someone on Yquatine must have become infected with Omnethoth spores and drawn the invasion fleet here. Somehow.'

'That doesn't explain how thousands of ships appeared from nowhere,' said Krukon.

The Doctor scratched his chin. 'Yes, well that is quite a mystery. I'll have to commune with the creature again to get to the bottom of it. It looks as though the activation of the Omnethoth happened by chance. Maybe one of their colonisation clouds drifted into the System.'

President Vargeld interrupted. 'You mean to say, Yquatine was destroyed by a product? A sentient weapon, no better than one of our own smart bombs?'

The Doctor nodded gravely. 'Yes. That's more or less the truth' It was the truth. And it was horrible. Millions had died, millions more would die unless the Omnethoth were dealt with. The Doctor deliberately focused on what he'd discovered, diverting his mind from the phenomenal loss of life.

President Vargeld was staring at the floor. The Doctor walked up to him, full of concern. 'I know how you must feel. I've faced death countless times '

President Vargeld looked up, his youthful face strained. eyes hostile. 'How can you know how I feel? How we all must feel?'

The Doctor stepped back, mentally admonishing himself. That was a bad bit of counselling: never, ever say 'I know how you feel', even if it was true. It was the last word in patronisation.

'We don't even know how we should be feeling,' said the President in a hoa.r.s.e, broken voice. 'We've had our heart ripped out. We can't even begin to imagine what the future will be like.'

Rhombus-Alpha spoke up. 'Emotional out bursts are counter-productive but the Ixtricite must also register our deepest perturbation at this tragic turn of events.'

President Vargeld walked up to Zendaak. 'I almost wish you were the aggressors.' He laughed and clapped the Anthaurk on the shoulders. 'Because we could and would have beaten you!'

Zendaak pulled away. 'Don't be so sure of that.' he muttered darkly.

'But instead we have to face this senseless, manufactured thing. Striking us from out of nowhere. By accident.' The last two words were a whisper of horrified disbelief.

Things were getting a hit too emotional. 'By accident'. repeated the Doctor, 'is how the universe operates. In the universal whole. nothing is just or unjust. It may only seem that way to us poor individuals. We call it fate or destiny, perceiving patterns where there are none, connecting events. creating our own interpretations of the universe like tapestries of wishes and dreams. The truth is, the universal process has no favourites. The Omnethoth could have struck anywhere. It's just unfortunate for us that it's here and now.'

Senator Juvingeld rose from his seat. 'I do not agree. We Eldrig believe in the prophecies of our forefathers, laid down when our world was young. There is a pattern to everything.'

The Doctor smiled indulgently. 'And have all these prophecies come true? Was this current tragedy foreseen?'

Juvingeld shook his head. 'It depends upon the interpretations of the prophecies.'

The Doctor clicked his fingers. 'There you are, then. With respect to Senator Juvingeld, predestination cannot exist.' Not even for a time traveller like himself, he reflected his biodata could be and had been extensively rewritten so he wasn't even sure of the past, let alone the future.

Senator Tibis spoke. His voice was deep, growling and sonorous. 'So what you're saying, Doctor, is that s.h.i.t happens?'

The Doctor let out a long breath, smiled, shook his head wearily. 'Succinctly put, but yes. That's how the universe works. And we have to make sense of it. We ' he spun round, arms wheeling 'were made made to make sense of it. It's our purpose!' to make sense of it. It's our purpose!'

'So how can we make sense of what happened to Yquatine?' asked the President in a hollow voice.

The Doctor whirled round. 'The great thing about an indifferent universe is free will. We're free agents ' he nodded to Juvingeld ' though we don't all realise it. We could choose to let it beat us, let the push and pull of the process tear us apart. Or we could choose to face things positively.'

President Vargeld cut in. 'All this philosophising is very cute but what are we going to do?'

'Well, I'm just coming to that,' said the Doctor brightly. 'I know how to stop them!'

'Destroy them?' said the President.

The look in Vargeld's eyes was beginning to worry the Doctor. 'Let's just say, render them safe. The Omnethoth are a gestalt creature, made up of tiny gaseous particles, tiny spores if you like. They can exist in three states: the gaseous form, which is what is now surrounding Yquatine, and which is lethal to organic life; a liquid form rather like acid; and a solid form, which they use for their ships and probes and whatnot. Only the gaseous form is sentient. Well, it likes to think it is but all it's doing is obeying its programming spread out, destroy, colonise. But I can change all that. I can reach into the Omnethoth DNA, reprogram them. I'd only have to do it to one attack unit and tell it to reprogram the others. They would then be totally peaceful, and be on their way out of the System to dwell in the emptiness of s.p.a.ce quite happily. A unique species of gaseous intelligence... What is it?'

President Vargeld had stepped forward until he was only a metre away from the Doctor. His face was white with anger. His voice was shaking. 'Are you suggesting that we allow this filth, this pollution, to go free?'

The Doctor nodded, slowly. 'It's the only way. Otherwise it'll spread out and take over the whole System. We've got hours at most.'

Ignoring him, the President turned and addressed the Senate. 'Let's take a vote on it, shall we? Shall we do what the Doctor says, or shall we destroy these abominations?'

Every arm and forelimb shot up towards the ceiling. Rhombus-Alpha glowed its a.s.sent.

President Vargeld whirled round to the Doctor. 'Pretty unanimous, I would say.'

The Doctor folded his arms. He had expected this. 'So how are you going to do it? Destroy the Omnethoth?'

President Vargeld swept his arm around the room. 'I propose that we reconvene the Minerva s.p.a.ce Alliance. Pool our resources. Bombard Yquatine the thing that was Yquatine. Blast the Omnethoth into oblivion!'

The entire Senate rose to its feet and cheered, hooted, roared and chirruped raucous a.s.sent.

The Doctor put his head in his hands and groaned.

After the Senate meeting, there was a council of war. But before that, Senator Zendaak found time to slip back to his cabin, sit before the desk that was covered with the cloaks of his fathers. and pa.s.s his hand over the small globe that rested on a pile of smooth pebbles in the centre of the desk.

The image of the Grand Gynarch appeared almost immediately. 'Developments, Zendaak! It has been long since your last report.'

Zendaak didn't know where to begin. 'I have discovered the nature of the takers of Yquatine, O Gynarch!'

The Grand Gynarch's eyes narrowed. 'Not not the Daleks?'

Zendaak knew of his leader's obsession with those creatures. He waved a gloved hand and shook his head. 'No, Grand Gynarch, nothing so crude as the Daleks. They are called Omnethoth.'

The Grand Gynarch repeated the word. 'Om-nethoth. Thoth is one of the G.o.ds! The G.o.d of... learning and art?' She shook her head. 'How can such a venerable deity be connected with such destruction?'

'He is not, Grand Gynarch. It's an invented name its makers were probably ignorant of the wise and holy Thoth. The Omnethoth are a manufactured thing. A weapon.'

'How do you know all this?'

Zendaak hissed. 'A human called the Doctor communed with an Omnethoth he had captured.'

The Grand Gynarch glowered. 'A single human captured one of these creatures? And six Anthaurk ships could not?'

Zendaak shook his head. 'Gynarch, this Doctor is not like other humans. He has a secondary respiratory system. He can put himself in a coma at will, to protect his life. He argues against destiny and a.s.serts all have free will.'

The Grand Gynarch snorted. 'I have heard of such theories. Nonsense for was I not born to be Grand Gynarch? And are the Anthaurk not destined to rule?'

Zendaak saluted. 'Yes, O Gynarch!'

The Grand Gynarch nodded, satisfied and justified. 'Any word from the ships you sent to Yquatine?'

Zendaak shook his head. 'The Omnethoth must have destroyed them.'

'They will be remembered with full honour and glory.'

The two Anthaurk bowed their heads in silence for a while.

Then the Grand Gynarch spoke. 'The Omnethoth are a weapon, you say?' Zendaak nodded. 'Then we must act with stealth, Zendaak. All is not lost. You must co-operate with this Doctor, gain his confidence. Seem to agree with his views, if necessary. You must try to obtain this trapped Omnethoth and bring it back to New Anthaur. We will divine its secrets, and use the power of the Omnethoth to rule the galaxy!'

Pride swelled in Zendaak's chest. So it was to be. After all this time, the Anthaurk were returning at last to their rightful position as rulers and conquerors.

Chapter Seventeen.

'This is just what I've been waiting for!'

Fitz woke up on the morning of the 12th of Lannasirn, after almost a month of imprisonment, with a strange new feeling banging against the inside of his ribcage.

Hope.

He stared at the ceiling with its tracery of cracks and its swirls of paintbrush marks for an unknowable time, letting the feeling swell his heart and send his head floating off into fantasies of freedom he'd never previously dared to entertain.

Then, just before he actually burst into tears of mixed joy and apprehension, he swung out of bed, bare feet slapping on the icy tiled floor, and made himself bend over the tiny sink, splashing water on his face. Cold shock at either end of his body brought him down a little.

He dried his face and beard, got up on the chair and looked out through the window at the inner perimeter fence, the outer perimeter fence and the fields beyond. It was still early, not full light yet, and the sky was deep blue, sprinkled with stars. He pressed his face to the window, trying to see yes, there it was. He grinned.

Shivering in the cold morning air, which seemed to seep into the stone and tile and brick of the Centre, he slipped on his prison garb shapeless pale-green trousers and top and, just as suddenly as it had come, the elation slipped away and he slumped on the bed, head in hands.

After all, his hope might be misplaced. It all depended on whether his number came up. Life was now a lottery. His existence depended entirely on the turn of a friendly card. He tried not to think about it, but it was no good. He got up and paced around the room to stall his rising panic and work out his frustration. What time was it? An hour till breakfast. Then he'd know either way. And then it was either elation or he stopped pacing death.

An hour to go.