Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 4

'Then what?'

'Shhh. Be patient. There'll be another one along in minute.'

Ace was patient. For a full five seconds.

'Another what?'

'Another sun.' She could not see his face, but she could feel the Doctor looking in her direction, and she somehow knew that he could see her.

A red glow touched the branches at the very top of the tree. It began to spread down towards them. Ace turned and peered back over her shoulder. Sure enough, a sun was rising behind her a red sun this time. When she looked back the Doctor had gone. She jumped up, walked round the grey trunk and flopped down again next to the Doctor. It was as if he had been there all his life, waiting for the sunrise.

He pointed at the glowing disc with the handle of his umbrella, holding it impossibly by the very point. 'They follow the colours of the spectrum. You've missed infra red, I'm afraid.'

Ace peered closer, and indeed it did seem that the sun was already glowing a little orange in with the red. 'How long does it take?'

'A day? From sunrise to sunset, oh, about...' He pulled out a gold watch on a chain, flicked it open and stared at it for a moment. 'Four gleebs.'

'That long?'

'Oh yes. In the summer.'

The sun continued its barely perceptible rise. It was more orange than red now.

'What's a gleeb?'

He didn't seem to hear. 'It slows down a bit as it gets higher, then speeds up on the way down.' He gestured, his hand playing the sun. They watched for a while longer.

'You've been here before.'

He smiled, but it was a dark smile with little humour in it. 'A couple of times. I staked my reputation on the beauty of the sunrise here once. Amongst other things. When I was young and fancy*free.'

'Young?' Ace was not sure the Doctor had ever been young.

'Well, younger anyway. Still young enough to bowl a good Chinaman Chinaman, but not too old to appreciate the inexplicable splendour of it all.'

'Is that why you left?'

The Doctor turned fully to her. He leaned thoughtfully on the handle of his umbrella, its point dug into the ground in front of him. 'Left where?'

'Gallifrey. You know to see the sights. Was it for "inexplicable splendour" like this?'

It was as if he had suddenly lost interest. The Doctor unplugged his umbrella from the ground with a flourish, laid it down beside him, then shifted down the tree, folded his hands theatrically on his chest and lay down. His hat magically tipped itself forward as he lay back until it covered his eyes. Ace tried to peer underneath it. Was he asleep? Had she offended him? Or had he really really lost interest? lost interest?

When he spoke, nearly a minute later, just as the very centre of the sun began to edge into the yellow, it took Ace by surprise.

'I left for lots of reasons, Ace.' She was all attention. The sun continued its cabaret without an audience, 'You now, there was one tutor who wasn't such a stick*in*the*mud as the others.'

'Like Mr Briggs. He was okay. Friday afternoon French great fun. Or the weaponry officer on Belmos, not that he knew anything about weapons.'

The Doctor continued undeterred: 'I thought he might understand. So one day I went to him, after temporal engineering, and I asked him what it was all for. Why were we learning all these boring boring things? Why were we stuck in observation galleries and lecture halls, watching and learning rather than out there things? Why were we stuck in observation galleries and lecture halls, watching and learning rather than out there doing doing it all?' it all?'

'Yeah. I used to wonder that. So I went out and did it all.' She clenched her fist and her teeth as she remembered the fire and the glory. And the death. She thought for a moment of the recent stained face of Julian Winmill's mother, holding his orphaned data*pad as the tears splashed on to its casing.

The Doctor raised his hat and looked across at her as if he had forgotten she was there. 'Yes. Well, it was a bit easier for you.' He settled back into his former position. 'Anyway, he said that the theory was as important as the practice. He said that without knowing what you were doing, you couldn't know what you were doing.' His mouth smiled under the hat. 'He said I had a propensity for vulgar facetiousness. Me can you imagine?'

His voice was quiet, almost soporific, and Ace found herself drifting off. She thought about school, about home, about killing Daleks in the Hai Dow system and about sponge pudding and custard. She tried to concentrate on what the Doctor was saying, but somehow the more she concentrated, the less she was able to focus her attention.

'I tried to follow their arguments, but I still felt it wall topsy*turvy. All backwards. All theory and no reality. However exciting and interesting it is for the first half*hour, just doing the same things repet.i.tively get tedious...'

It didn't help that they kept shifting round the tree; the Doctor edging round to keep pace with the sun he wasn't watching as it moved overhead, Ace following the Doctor to try to hear the words she wasn't listening to. She was just wondering if he was doing it on purpose, when she realized he had stopped talking.

She did a quick back*track, trying to remember what he had last said. She thought it was something like 'And do you know what I said to her?' but she could not be sure. So she kept quiet.

The sun was a flaming ball of indigo as it continued its descent. They were back where they had started, and Ace had seen it all before. Well wicked. She shuffled her position, but it was still uncomfortable. Funny that the ground had been so soft and inviting when they had first arrived. When the sky was green and everything was new and exciting. She stole a look at the Doctor. He was leaning forward, staring intently at the mountains as the light shone off their slopes and played over their peaks. It looked as if he was set for the next thousand years.

Ace fidgeted a bit more, but there was no reaction. She coughed nothing.

'Doctor?'

Hee turned slowly towards her, the brim of his hat shading his eyes so that all she could see were the points of the pupils as they reflected the darkness. 'Hmm?'

'I'm bored shall we go?'

For a moment he was silent. Then he was suddenly on his feet, TARDIS key in hand. Ace leaped up too, dusting herself down. She hurried after the Doctor as he strode purposefully towards the TARDIS, key itching for the lock.

'You know, Ace,' the Doctor said as she caught up, that's exactly exactly what I said.' The Doctor's eyes lit up and his face opened into a huge smile. He turned the key and the door swung open. what I said.' The Doctor's eyes lit up and his face opened into a huge smile. He turned the key and the door swung open.

'No!' Benny was adamant. 'I can't accept that. I'm sorry. The damage to the fabric and whatever is actually within the theatre area, whatever artefacts remain, could be tremendous.' They were behaving more like Ace than like experienced archaeologists.

Lannic sighed. They had been through it a dozen times. 'You do accept that there is no other way? Unless we blast our way through the mud, we're not going to even get to the main complex in the time we have. Whatever artefacts there may or may not be will simply stay there.'

'Well maybe that's not such a bad thing.' Benny looked round the group, her eyes begging for some support. Gilmanuk was silent had been for the last hour. Probably too embarra.s.sed to say what he thought, and probably didn't think it would matter anyway. Tashman, Krayn and Cambri were unloading what they could into a temporary holding section immediately outside the ship. They had erected a prefabricated covered area to keep the rain off. It was set fairly securely into the mud. Tashman was driving a loader back and forth between the area and the hold, avoiding the debate. Cambri was sorting out the crates as they were unloaded..

Krayn occasionally wandered over, muttered unhelpful comments, then wandered off again, organizing Tashman's outbound loads. He had arrived in time to catch Bernice's remarks, and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand thoughtfully.

'I agree with Professor Summerfield,' Klasvik said, looking directly at Lannic. 'We are archaeologists. If we cannot uncover the past without destroying it, then perhaps we should let it lie until somebody else can.'

'Even the Rippeareans?'

'Yes, if necessary. Remember the damage Rumbelow and Proctor inflicted on the remains of Trajan Five great discoveries, yes, but who can tell what was lost because of their inept.i.tude? I'm sorry, but Bernice is right.' Benny noticed how he paused slightly before using her Christian name. 'We are letting our enthusiasm cloud our scientific judgement.'

'What would you suggest then? That we leave, abandon the site, and maybe it will never be excavated? Or maybe the Rippeareans will destroy it as they pa.s.s.'

'What do you mean by "blast"?' Krayn was standing almost directly behind Lannic when he asked. His voice caught her by surprise.

'I'm sorry?'

'The mud's not that dense. It's not like blasting through rock. I should know, I've been wading about in it.'

Klasvik smiled humourlessly. 'So we can see.'

But Bernice had seen Krayn thinking. He wasn't muttering inane comments now he had something to contribute. 'What do you suggest?'

'Phason bursts will blow your relics to bits, you're right. There's no way we could keep the impact to a low level in that lot and still make an impression. It's viscous, not solid.'

'So it wouldn't work anyway, is that what you're saying?'

'That's about it, yes. But you could use the water cannon to tunnel your way in.'

They were silent for a moment.

'Just a thought.' Krayn shrugged and turned away.

'Wait.' Lannic was on her feet. 'Would that actually work?'

'I don't see why not.'

'We'd need some way of shoring up the tunnel,' said Klasvik, 'to stop the mud just running back in again.'

'We've got loads of that prefab plastic sheeting. It seems solid enough. We should be able to slide that in as we wash the mud away.'

'How long would it take?' Lannic asked.

Krayn shrugged. 'Getting it sh.o.r.ed up is the longest job. Using the cannon should be quick enough. And it's not like we're short of water out there to spray.'

'Ahem,' Gilmanuk coughed quietly. But it was enough: He had everyone's attention. 'A couple of points, if I may?'

'Of course.' Benny beat Lannic to it, and smiled an unfelt apology.

'First, I don't believe that we will need to sh.o.r.e up the tunnel for long. The surface is very fluid, but I imagine the mud gets quite densely packed very soon once you burrow through it. It will support itself, at least for a while. And we shan't be here for long.'

'That's probably right,' admitted Krayn. 'Might make the tunnelling slower as we get deeper, though.'

'Well, we can't have everything.' Lannic turned back to Gilmanuk. 'And the second thing?'

'Well, you are concerned about possible damage as you break through into the main theatre.' He was talking Bernice. She nodded as he went on. 'I agree. And I think the water cannon may cause damage too.'

Lannic gritted her teeth, but Gilmanuk continued before she could interject. 'However, I think there is least chance of damage if we aim to break in to the area immediately behind behind the main theatre, beside the back stage area here.' He pointed at the map spread out on the crates in front of them. the main theatre, beside the back stage area here.' He pointed at the map spread out on the crates in front of them.

Benny nodded slowly. 'Yes, I agree. There's not likely to be much there. In the backstage area itself, yes prompt lists, props, even remnants of costumes have been found in previous excavations, but never anything of consequence between backstage and the auditorium.' She crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping she was right.

'And damage to the structure?'

'Would, I believe, be minimal, Lannic. There may be construction around the area that we need to get through but it is not an integral part of the theatre. It's not mark on the De Witte sketch, so it cannot be of the origin structure. I believe we can and should risk it.'

Lannic looked round the a.s.sembled group. There was an enthusiasm in everyone's eyes now no one seemed to doubt that they should at least try it. 'Very well,' she said, and there was a general laugh as the tension was expelled. Gilmanuk reached across and actually shook her hand, Krayn slapped Klasvik on the back (much to the archaeologist's surprise) and even Tashman smiled across at them as he drove past on his way back for more crates.

'So,' Klasvik had recovered his composure and glared briefly at Krayn, 'what now?'

Lannic was already decided. 'We establish base camp outside the lander. Gilmanuk, will you work out a route for the tunnel with Krayn, and then he can get the cannon set up? The rest of us can help Cambri and Tashman get everything we need unloaded and organized.'

'Yo!' Tashman shouted across to her. 'About time too. The other loader's at the far end of the hold there's a ma.s.s of crates to be unpacked and sorted. And you'd better work out how you want the living quarters set up and let Cambri know she's drinking hot blood out there.'

They had been excavating for what seemed like forever. Most of it involved spraying a high*pressure jet of water into the tunnel to hose out the mud, then scooping it into the front*bucket of a loader and driving it the ever*increasing distance up the sloping tunnel to dump it outside in the rain.

Krayn had been doing most of the drilling, most of the driving and most of the complaining. Tashman was responsible for shoring up the tunnel as they progressed, and the archaeologists were taking it in turns to sit on the water cannon and aim its hose. They had all had at least one break to get some sleep, although Krayn complained his had been shorter than everyone else's.

Bannahilk was permanently on the lander's flight deck where he and Fortalexa were monitoring every broadcast the com*net could find and plotting the Rippearean advance across a dedicated screen which had previously been an important part of the survey computer.

Fortalexa brought the others irregular reports, all of them delivered in his usual sardonic style and none of them optimistic. It was wet, cold, miserable, discouraging and they had nothing to show for it. Until they found the monolith.

Cambri was on the cannon and Krayn was drilling the loosened mud from the tunnel wall. Tashman had given up his shoring work as expected, the mud was now packed hard enough for the tunnel to support itself so Krayn was feeling more than ever that he had got the poorer deal. As a result he was setting about the mudface with an aggressive abandon that meant he was leaning quite heavily on the drill when it sheared away down the wall, taking a large chunk of mud.

Krayn swore as he released his hold on the power b.u.t.ton and collided with the lamp which Cambri had left wedged into the mud floor. The lamp went out as it fell and Krayn had to scrabble about for it.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing? Are you all right?' Cambri turned off the cannon and leaped down to the ground, skidding down the slope to where Krayn was pulling himself to his feet.

'I hit something that's not just mud.'

'Well I hope you haven't damaged it. Here, shine the lamp over so we can see what it is.'

Krayn directed the light at the far wall, and Cambri peered at the slab of stone that had been uncovered. 'See if you can clear any more of it,' she said. 'I'll get Lannic.'

Krayn nodded and moved the light for a better view. It was only after she was beyond earshot that he realized he had neglected to argue about it.

Lannic, Klasvik and Bernice had been discussing progress against the timetable Bannahilk was imposing as a result of his projections of the enemy advance. They did not wait for Cambri to give them details: any find was important at this stage. They needed something to convince them they were getting somewhere, it hardly mattered what.

But what? what? was a good question. Krayn had freed the edges of the huge slab of stone so that it stood out against the mud behind it. It was almost the size of the tunnel, and was jutting across it at an angle. Actually, Klasvik pointed out, it was almost vertical, but the angle of the tunnel was such that it seemed to loom over them, precariously top*heavy. was a good question. Krayn had freed the edges of the huge slab of stone so that it stood out against the mud behind it. It was almost the size of the tunnel, and was jutting across it at an angle. Actually, Klasvik pointed out, it was almost vertical, but the angle of the tunnel was such that it seemed to loom over them, precariously top*heavy.

'What do you make of it?' Bernice asked them.

'It's natural. A native type of igneous stone.' Klasvik ran his hand across the muddy surface. 'And rough it's got indentations in it.'

Lannic leaned past him and wiped at an area with her sleeve, dislodging slivers of mud. They fell away to reveal dark shadows beneath.

'They look like cuts.' Krayn turned the lamp slightly so that the light caught the edges of the indentations.

'They are are cuts.' Lannic wiped a bigger area. 'They're deliberate, Maybe letters even. Can we clean it up?' cuts.' Lannic wiped a bigger area. 'They're deliberate, Maybe letters even. Can we clean it up?'

Krayn nodded. 'Stand back a bit, I'll hose it down for you.'

It only took a few seconds for the jet of water to wash the mud from the front of the monolith. Then they gathered round it again, the water washing up against their feet as the pumps began to pipe it back up to the surface.