Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 13

'Oh, I know what they are,' the Doctor said dismissively. 'But I don't think it helps much.'

'It would help me,' Fortalexa told him. 'The whole thing seems to be someone's idea of Death's Bane Death's Bane on a limitless budget.' on a limitless budget.'

'They're mud. The outer sh.e.l.l is dried and hardened but it's still mud.'

'Mud, Doctor?' Klasvik seemed interested in spite of himself.

'The surface of this planet is a living thing maybe many things. In the dry season it's dormant, disconnected. Its parts are scattered around as dry sand with no const.i.tuency, Add water, and it bonds together. Comes to life.'

'Are you sure?' Fortalexa was pushing forwards into them as the statues approached from behind.

The Doctor pushed backwards as Ace stepped slowly closer. 'No, not sure sure as such. But I like a good theory, and you probably haven't time to disprove it to my satisfaction.' as such. But I like a good theory, and you probably haven't time to disprove it to my satisfaction.'

'Does it help us?' Gilmanuk could see what was probably the only way out. But he would rather have an alternative, if there was one.

'Help?' The Doctor seemed surprised at the question. 'No, it doesn't help us at all.'

Gilmanuk shrugged. 'That's what I thought.' He leaned across to the Doctor and whispered, 'You are sure that Professor Summerfield is safe?'

The Doctor looked deep into his eyes, and Gilmanuk could tell that he sensed what he was thinking. The Doctor's hand closed on his, squeezing it slightly as he said, 'Yes, I am sure.' He held Gilmanuk's hand for a moment longer. 'You're a brave man, Gilmanuk. Thank you for caring.'

Gilmanuk smiled, a tear coming to his eye. 'Well, this where I make my exit.' Then he walked forward, into the arms of Ace.

Her embrace was as cold and tight as he had expected. Her cheek was hard against his for a moment, then he felt it give way and a sticky mess covered his face, oozed behind his gla.s.ses and against his tightly closed eyes. He felt the grip tighten round him and was unable to move. Images flashed past his sightless eyes: of his wife; his son; and of Professor Bernice Summerfield.

As his body sank to the ground he heard the sound of metal on metal and knew that the door to the hold had opened for his friends. And although his whole face was set in a muddy death mask, in his mind he was smiling.

Source Doc.u.ment 8 Cover letter accompanying application for post as Admissions Overseer at the Pentillanian Theatre on Menaxus Braxiatel Collection Catalogue Number: 831 CPH Extract. Written by Di Pietro Palladio. Dated 2315.

Sir, Please find enclosed an application form for the post of Admissions Overseer. You will appreciate from my qualifications and experience that I am eminently suitable for the position under offer. I am available for immediate interview.

You will note from the Comments section of the form which I have completed with particular clarity, that I have suggested profound changes to the standard admission procedures which could, in this applicant's opinion, increase the throughput of ticketing and the accuracy of fulfilment.

Chapter 8.

The Infernal Machine Verbal communication is by contrast much harder to interpret. Indeed, as far as the written word is concerned, it is almost impossible. The author will have taken time to disguise their automatic and subconscious mannerisms through revision and rewriting and may even have introduced deliberate confusion. communication is by contrast much harder to interpret. Indeed, as far as the written word is concerned, it is almost impossible. The author will have taken time to disguise their automatic and subconscious mannerisms through revision and rewriting and may even have introduced deliberate confusion.In fact, the most one can reasonably hope to say about written material is that it was or was not written by the same person. Stylistic and linguistic habits are difficult to lose even though their meaning and intention may be obscured. In Macbeth Macbeth, for example, it is easy to see which sections were added to the 1623 folio by Middleton. What is rather harder to fathom is why he added them. Or, come to that, why they are rarely removed by an editor.Verbal Non*Communication Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 'You got this from a cheap "B" movie, didn't you?'

The Doctor looked hurt, but Ace went on, 'From the people who brought you Attack of the Fifty*Foot Poodle Attack of the Fifty*Foot Poodle.'

'You're not taking this very seriously, Ace.'

'I know I know people are dead and the killer zombies are at the door.' She turned back to the flight controls. 'Still we can be out of here in a couple of minutes. I just need to run the motors up to speed.' She adjusted a dial, and squinted at the read*out next to it.

'Well done, Ace. I'll get back to the others I left them in the hold nursing their credibility.' He paused in the doorway. 'And anyway, poodles don't have fifty feet.' But she did not hear. So he turned, disappointed, and set off down the corridor.

'Doctor!' Ace's voice reached him before he had gone ten paces.

The Doctor frowned and returned to the flight deck. 'It was just a joke.'

But Ace still was not listening to him. She pointed to the read*out, flashing red as power*to*inertia ratios rolled past. 'That's not right what could cause that?'

The Doctor watched the figures for a while, then stared past Ace into the far wall, his lips moving as he out*thought the flight computers and leaped at explanations.

'Mud!' he exclaimed at last. 'Lots of mud, packing into the engine pods for the lateral thrusters and blocking the drive feeds.'

'You're not serious?' He scowled. 'Okay, you are serious. We've got to clear it, then the readings are way above tolerance already. I'll have to shut it down. And we can't take off in this weather with no lateral control.' She reset the engine controls. It was only as the sound of the drive died away that either of them was aware that it had been there, straining as the power fought in vain to express itself. 'Much more of that and the whole lot would go up.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Which is where we want to go. But in one piece. We must clear it out and try again.'

'Doctor, what if something's waiting for you to do just that?'

'Waiting for us?' The thought did not seem to have occurred to him.

Ace nodded. 'Something out of a "B" movie.'

'Well.' The Doctor's face brightened a little. 'Let's hope it's a poodle.'

Fortalexa had a.s.sumed some sort of authority. All he could do however was issue a status report to the survivors. 'And since we cannot locate them,' he concluded, 'we must a.s.sume that a.s.sok Bannahilk and Professor Summerfield are also amongst the casualties. So that leaves just us.'

'And Ace,' the Doctor reminded him.

'None of which helps us to decide what to do about unblocking the engines,' Klasvik pointed out.

'The machine,' Lannic said, 'the dream machine, did you call it?'

'Ace did.'

'What about it?' asked Klasvik.

'There must be some way it can help us.'

'Not unless it can create a diversion to draw the statues away from the engines.' Fortalexa was not convinced.

'Maybe it can,' offered the Doctor. 'It projects a lifelike image, it might fool them.'

'No chance. Without the activator key it won't project an interval, never mind any sort of performance.'

'Yet it was working in a sort of stand*by mode when Ace and I arrived.' The Doctor leaped to his feet and walked round in a small circle. 'Puzzling, isn't it?'

'But not very helpful Doctor.' Klasvik glared at him.

'This activator key, what does it look like?' asked Lannic.

The Doctor waved a hand vaguely round the room. 'Oh it's a magnetically encoded card. Plastic, probably. About so big.' He held his clenched hands so they touched at the knuckles and extended his index fingers.

'Like this?' Lannic pulled a small card from her breast pocket. It was plastic, about the length the Doctor had indicated, slightly narrower. It was etched with a cl.u.s.ter of small leaves splaying out from a central branch.

Fortalexa s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her. 'Exactly like that,' he said.

He had watched everything, heard everything. The slave terminal from the same processing unit relayed the images that she brought up at the workstation. The camera in the simularity chamber relayed real*time images of her simulations.

When she first populated the auditorium with herself and Hamlet, he had laughed out loud. But by the time she asked again whether she had all the relevant doc.u.ments, he was less happy. As he watched her leave the latest simularity, he steepled his fingers and raised them so his forefingers touched his lips. He had not antic.i.p.ated that she would move so fast.

She would re*examine the doc.u.ments now. And he was not sure how much she could discover from those. Perhaps the investigation had gone far enough. He leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, crossing the ankles. It might be interesting to see how far she could get.

Klasvik stole a look round the end of the lander. He snapped his rain*soaked head back almost at once. Just as the Doctor had said, the three statues were standing motionless by the engine pods. They were completely still and silent, posed in tableau, the rain splashing off their shoulders and running down their face. They did not seem to have heard them open the door using the manual controls, were still waiting for the sound of a motor from one of the hatches before investigating.

'Satisfied?' hissed the Doctor in his ear.

Klasvik grunted. He still did not trust the Doctor, but at least he seemed to be helping now rather than offering silly pseudo*scientific explanations and preaching doom like some character out of Black Vengeance Black Vengeance.

'Come on, let's see where they've got to.' The Doctor nudged Klasvik and turned away. Klasvik followed him down into the tunnel. They were well past the sh.o.r.ed*up section before they met Lannic and Fortalexa wheeling the dream machine along the tunnel towards them.

The Doctor held up his hand, and they stopped where they were. 'That's good enough,' he told Fortalexa quietly. 'We don't need a direct line of vision, we can work out the calibration and project an image from this range. I paced out the distance on the way.'

'Sorry we took so long,' Lannic said. 'We had fun getting it up those steps.'

The Doctor smiled. 'Yes, I can imagine.'

They watched as Fortalexa slid the plastic card into a slot in the main panel of the machine and began programming in the distance information. 'Ready?' he asked eventually, his face tight with nervous antic.i.p.ation. They all nodded. 'This should project the characters but not the scenery. With luck, they'll appear just like real people.'

The Doctor patted both Klasvik and Lannic on the back in encouragement. 'They're pretty slow, we should be able to avoid them in the confusion. And remember, we don't need to completely clear the engines. If we can get the bulk of the mud out, Ace can fire them and that will blast out the rest.'

They stood silent, looking round at each other. Fortalexa said, 'Right, I'll give you to a count of one hundred, then I'll cue in the machine. Hamlet Hamlet all right for you?' n.o.body bothered to answer. all right for you?' n.o.body bothered to answer.

The first indication that anything was happening was the sound of metal on metal of swords crashing against each other. The Doctor exchanged glances with Klasvik, and Lannic. 'Right on time.'

Huddled under the Doctor's umbrella for shelter, they peered round the edge of the lander.

The Doctor recognized both Hamlet and his mother from their earlier encounter. But the other figures were unfamiliar. There was a crowd, gathered in a circle. It took a moment for the Doctor to realize what was happening. Then as he saw Hamlet dive forward in the middle of the ring, sword in one hand and dagger in the other, he knew. A glance round the faces of the observers confirmed it: Fortalexa had plunged them straight into the final duel between Hamlet and Laertes. A good choice lots of action, movement, people.

The king and courtiers applauded and exclaimed as Hamlet and Laertes rushed headlong at each other, swords clashing as they rolled apart and rejoined for another bout.

And amid the ch.o.r.eographed confusion, the three statues Lannic, the Doctor and Ace milled round unsure of themselves, grasping at figures which evaded their clutches and failed to acknowledge their existence. The statue of the Doctor lurched into the middle of the fight. It reached out for Hamlet. Laertes ducked as he disappeared behind the grey figure, and Hamlet lunged forward, his sword slicing through the stone Doctor's waistcoat as it reached for Laertes.

The Doctor gasped, and clutched his chest.

'Are you all right?' asked Lannic, reaching out to help him.

He turned to her, his eyes wide. 'I'm glad that wasn't me,' he whispered. 'Come on, this is the best chance we'll get.'

Keeping close to the side of the lander, they darted along towards the engine pods. The lander afforded some protection from the rain as it angled in at them. Even so, within seconds they were drenched and dripping.

The four huge circular openings of the engine pods were jammed solid with dark mud. It dripped from them as if it had been hastily packed in, or as if it was trying to crawl in against the force of gravity. The Doctor plunged his furled umbrella into the nearest of the pods and gouged out a chunk of the sticky material. 'Mud pies,' he exclaimed in delight.

After a second's hesitation Lannic pulled her coverall sleeve back as far as it would easily travel, then pushed her hand and forearm into the opening, tearing out a fistful of mud and dropping it with a squelch to the ground. She looked round quickly to see if the statues had heard but the noise of the rain splashing into the soft ground and the shouts of appreciation from the swordfight drowned out the noise.

Before long they were all three tunnelling into the side of the lander. Then the sound of the fight stopped, and they froze.

'Another hit, what do you say?' Hamlet's voice reached them clear and enthusiastic.

Laertes was less happy, deferent but resigned: 'A touch, a touch, I do confess't.'

The Doctor, Lannic and Klasvik breathed a collective sigh of relief.

'Doctor I can't reach much further.' Lannic was up to her shoulder as she scooped out another handful of mud.

'You and Klasvik go back inside, tell Ace she can test*fire. If she keeps the burners running she should be able clear the rest and keep them open.' The Doctor watched the play for a moment.

The King's voice floated over, commanding but worried. 'Gertrude! Do not drink.'

'Give me exactly five minutes to finish clearing the last one,' the Doctor told them, 'then I'll collect Fortalexa and catch you up.'

Klasvik checked his chronometer and started his surrept.i.tious way back towards the safety of the hold. Lannic caught the Doctor's arm as he reached it into the last of the pods, umbrella extended.

'And the machine,' she said, her eyes wide with urgency and insistence. 'You must bring the machine too.'

'Yes, yes, of course.' The Doctor clicked his tongue irritably and went back to work. He did not think it would be long now before the statues realized what was happening and returned to guard the engines particularly now that there was a lull in the action.

He had almost finished and had two minutes to spare when a hand closed on his shoulder, pulling him round. The Doctor turned slowly, not yet resisting, ready to dive to the side when his attacker reached out for his face.

'Need any help?' asked Fortalexa, releasing his hold on the Doctor.

'Yes,' said the Doctor, looking over Fortalexa shoulder. 'Help getting out of here!'

Fortalexa turned and followed the Doctor s gaze. The statue of Lannic was lumbering heavily towards them, arms outstretched. Behind her Ace and the, Doctor were detaching themselves from the court of Elslinore even as the fight was starting up again. The Doctor's statue was moving to the side of the lander, blocking off their escape route.

'Any ideas?'

The Doctor considered, pulling a gold pocket watch from his muddy waistcoat and flipping open its lid to consult it. He licked his grubby finger and stuck it in air as if testing the wind direction. 'Yes. We wait here.' He folded his arms, leaned against the side of the lander and started to whistle what sounded like a military march.