Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 7

'We're in a sea of nowhere.' The Doctor's voice floated down to her.

'Why do they make these windows so narrow?' Ace asked him. If he was not going to be any more helpful then the least he could do was come down and let her have a look.

But the Doctor seemed unaware of the hint. 'To keep the arrows of the opposing archers from raining in. Or the rain from arrowing in. Defence you should have known that, Ace.'

'I did. So what can you see?'

The Doctor jumped down easily, dropping his umbrella first, then dropping after it in time to catch it as it balanced on its point for a moment. He gestured up at the window, and Ace scrabbled up the wall to it and looked out.

Below her, she could see a courtyard jutting out into the night. It was lit by two flaming flambeaus, one at each extreme comer of the area. Each was held by a figure in a shining metal helmet. The soldiers were standing stock*still, dressed in breastplate and rough trousers. Their helmets, now that Ace peered closely at them, were little more than hard hats covering the crown of their heads and br.i.m.m.i.n.g out about level with the brow. The flames from the torches reflected in the polished metal, but the soldiers were standing so still that the reflections were unbroken, unflickering. But there was something even more still about these men. It took Ace a moment to realize what it was. Partly it was the fact that nothing moved round them. They were standing absolutely alone in an empty courtyard outside an apparently deserted castle which stood in a sea of blackness. Beyond the confines of the castle and this outer bailey, there was nothing but matt blackness. It was as dark as the view into the night sky from below the window. Unbroken night. Weird.

But not as weird as the complete lack of movement. The fact that the soldiers could stand so motionless was something Ace could cope with. And if it was so dark, so cloudy (or foggy?) that it was impossible to see beyond them, fair enough. But the flames of the soldiers' torches were as still as their bearers. Ace had seen enough flames many of them dancing around the blackened remains of burning Dalek sh.e.l.ls to know that fire is never still. These flames looked like the fake torches that Mrs Parkinson had got the cla.s.s to make for the school concert one year: cardboard flames, cut into tongues, painted and stuck to the end of a broom handle. If they could have cut out real fire and stuck that on the top of a staff, it would have looked exactly like this. Like a photograph. No flicker or spark still flame. Frozen fire.

Ace jumped down. The Doctor was looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

'The world just stopped.'

The Doctor leaned back against the wall and pointed his umbrella at Ace. 'Do you mean that the world ends at the castle, then there is nothing more, just the black emptiness of the void? Or that the world has been stopped, so that we can get on?'

Ace looked at the Doctor. 'Both?' she hazarded.

The Doctor nodded slowly and pointed his umbrella down the corridor. 'Let's try this way.' Then he was off again before she could ask further, a silhouette receding into the gloom.

Bernice had largely glossed over the attack in her account to Gilmanuk. They were both more interested in discussing the machine she had found. Lannic had been even more enthusiastic than Gilmanuk, as if this was the find that her two expeditions had been searching for. To Bernice's surprise she seemed entirely happy that it was Benny who had made the discovery rather than herself or her previous expedition.

They were in the operations room (as Bannahilk now insisted on calling the hold). Lannic was haggling with Bannahilk for more time, using Bernice's discovery as proof that it was worth staying on as long as possible. Bannahilk was firmly opposed to any extensions to the schedule, and Gilmanuk was trying to make the not unreasonable point that they should examine the machine before making any decisions. If they could hear him above their own voices, then they were not listening to him.

Cambri, almost back to her old self as far as Benny could tell, shook her head in disgust and wandered out of the room. Benny took her place in the spare chair beside Fortalexa. He glanced at her and smiled, then returned to his scan out of the com*net.

'Any news?' Benny asked.

Fortalexa shook his head. 'Nothing good, anyway.'

'So no extension to our stay?'

Fortalexa grinned and they both looked over at Lannic and Bannahilk. Bannahilk was shaking his head and holding up his hand as Lannic kept on at him. He walked away from her off into the piles of crates not worth unpacking. Lannic followed him.

'No chance.' Fortalexa told Benny.

Cambri had had enough of the operations room. She felt fine now must have been tired. Should not have made a fuss, just got on with the job. It was the boredom that had got to her. It might have been more dangerous on Magvel Seven, or in the advance on Basfonal, but it had never been as mind*numbingly boring as this.

She grinned in the dim light. Magvel Seven: she could see herself now, looking down at the woman she had found cowering in the burnt*out wreckage of a civilian airbus. The woman was in her mid twenties her face streaked with blood and dirt and her hair hanging matted round her face. Her clothes were torn and grimy and she was trying to shelter a child in the remains of her cloak. The cloak had once been red and was clasped at the throat with a gold brooch. She had looked up at Cambri, standing over her, her eyes wide and damp, appealing for mercy. Cambri had shot the child first and taken the gold clasp from her cloak afterwards. She left the woman with her eyes still wide, but now unseeing.

The light dazzled her as she rounded the comer. Instinctively Cambri put her arm up in front of her face as her eyes smarted. Through the glare she could make out the walls of the tunnel ahead of her. It was still part of the sh.o.r.ed*up section but it seemed to be lined with wooden panels rather than sections of plastic. She shuffled forward slowly until her stomach touched the low wooden wall in front of her.

Her eyes were clearing now and Cambri could make out the silhouettes of the two counsels: defence and prosecution. Across the room from them the head of the Critics was standing. He turned to her and answered the judge: 'We have. On both of the charges of unprovoked murder of civilians while on campaign, we find the defendant guilty.'

Cambri gasped. How could they know n.o.body had seen, she was sure. She was on the edge of the advance, an outrunner, outside the sat*link surveillance envelope.

The judge turned slowly towards her and Cambri grasped the bra.s.s rail along the top of the dock for support, her knuckles whitening as she blinked back the light. The judge was in her mid twenties, her face streaked with mud from the courtroom floor and her wig hanging in tresses round her face. Her robe was red and was clasped at the throat with a gold brooch.

Cambri looked over at the judge. Her eyes were wide and damp, appealing for mercy.

The judge said nothing, just nodded to the two warders flanking Cambri. She felt her arms twisted up behind her back and her head was thrust forward over the edge of the dock. Through the gap between the bra.s.s rail and the wooden top of the dock Cambri saw the executioner step forward. His eyes were slits in the dark hood as he raised the axe high above his head. Cambri's scream echoed round the tunnels as she saw the axe begin to swing slowly towards her. For a moment it paused at its apogee, then gravity gave it one more little pull and the blade continued over and down. It gathered momentum as it went and slammed into her neck with a slapping squelch that echoed round the courtroom.

They left the woman with her eyes still wide, but now unseeing.

It was a high*ceilinged room. The Doctor marched across the floor, his shoes slapping against the ornate tiles. When he reached the centre of the room he spun round on his heels. His umbrella somehow found itself leaned against his shoulder as he stood almost to attention and looked back towards the doorway as Ace followed him in. 'Smooth,' he said.

Ace looked round. They were in a bedroom, albeit a rather large one. The bed was tucked away in the far corner. The room seemed to be fashioned entirely out of doorways, huge roman arches with heavy tapestries hung over them. Probably they were not really doors, but rather alcoves. 'I don't think I'd rate it that highly,' Ace muttered as she pushed past to examine a tapestry in more detail.

'I was referring to the floor, not the ambience.'

Ace looked down. The Doctor was right, the room was laid not with the rough flagstones of the rest of the castle that they had seen, but with smooth pale tiles. They were laid in a pattern, a circular border around the inside of the alcove walls. In the middle of the floor was a tiled mosaic, a cl.u.s.ter of small leaves splaying out from a central branch.

'This cost serious money.' Ace was already kneeling and running her hands across the tiles, feeling the expensive finish. 'Why's it so much better than the rest of the dump?

'Why do you think?'

'Because someone important lives here in this room?'

'I think you're right,' the Doctor said.

'I dunno about their taste in curtains, though. Look at this stuff.' Ace pointed at the nearest tapestry and they went closer to examine it. It depicted a scene, or rather a tableau, intricately woven in muted colours. The scene was of a section of a courtroom. A figure stood centre*stage, in the dock. Her head was bowed over the top of the wooden wall of the dock, forced forward by the figures either side of her. Behind, another figure, tall and hooded with slits in the dark material for eyes, raised an axe high above her head. The blade was paused at its apogee, about to continue over and down.

The only light source seemed to be from directly in front of the scene as if it were bleeding in from the room where the Doctor and Ace stood. The background and foreground were an empty brown, as if the world of the figures consisted only of the figures themselves and the stone. As if the world just stopped at the edge of the tableau.

'An execution.' The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Remind you of anything?'

'Yeah some cheap horror movie.' Refusing to be drawn, Ace turned away. She was suddenly bored with the tapestry.

'Certainly horrible. I have been in similar situations myself, even before Peladon. I remember once in Italy ' He paused for Ace to interject. Either she had heard it all before, or it was dead boring. But there was no response. 'Ace?'

'Sorry Doctor.' Ace's voice was strangely quiet.

'What is it?' The Doctor turned and looked over towards the far side of the room. Towards the shadows where Ace was staring.

'Maybe we should ask her what it means.' She nodded at the figure standing still and silent beside the bed.

'Maybe we should,' murmured the Doctor, walking slowly towards the figure. She was a woman in her middle years, Still attractive, but with lines of worry on her face. She was wearing a long green gown of a heavy fabric velvet maybe. It had a wide white lace collar and sleeves which hung loose to the cuffs. The woman s hair was auburn and tied up in traces, swept back from her forehead and away from her ears. Her eyes were brown and turned unseeing into s.p.a.ce.

Benny led Lannic, Gilmanuk, and the two soldiers back down the tunnel towards the theatre.

'Sounds like it could be a tight*beam projector of some sort.' Fortalexa was still on at her for details. She had not realized how into the technology of it all he was. Not just a wisecracker but a techie as well. He wanted to know everything about the machine, whereas Lannic seemed strangely disinterested. Probably keeping her ideas and views to herself until she actually saw it.

They rounded the last corner of the panelled section of the tunnel.

'Stay here,' Bannahilk said quietly but urgently to them. Then he pointed at Fortalexa and jabbed his finger back up the tunnel. Fortalexa nodded and turned. His disruptor was already drawn as he darted back to the nearest corner, braced himself, then leapt out to cover the pa.s.sageway behind them. Bannahilk was moving ahead in similar fashion, covering the shadows and crevices. Benny and the others were left alone. With Cambri's decapitated body.

Gilmanuk had sunk down at the sight of it. He was sitting propped against the mud wall of the tunnel, his head in his hands. Lannic was still standing, the colour drained from her face and her hand over her mouth. Benny gagged. It was not the sight of death so much the smell of the fresh blood as it trickled from the neck and ran down the sloping floor towards the tunnel mouth. She could imagine it dripping into the theatre forming a small congealing puddle on the topmost of Tashman an Krayn's steps before running over on to the next on and repeating the process.

A hand touched her shoulder from behind and Benny flinched even though she instinctively knew it was Fortalexa.

'Nothing behind us, at least so far as I can tell.' He looked down at Cambri. Her eyes were grey, and stared unseening into s.p.a.ce. 'And I thought she'd lost her head when she started seeing ghosts.'

Bannahilk was back before Bernice could respond. 'We need to get back to the theatre and check on the others. If all's clear I want to see this machine. If not, we get back to the operations room and prepare to leave immediately.'

Benny looked round. Gilmanuk pulled himself slowly up. Lannic, surprisingly, was nodding agreement. She must be even more shaken than she looked.

'I'll take front of house,' Bannahilk continued. 'Fortalexa you take the back.'

Benny hung back so that she was immediately in front of Fortalexa, 'I just hope you can shoot straight,' she told him.

'I don't believe it.'

The Doctor turned to see what Ace was talking about now, and froze. Across the room, almost where they had just been standing, in front of the execution tapestry, stood an old, white*bearded man. Like the woman he was perfectly still and his eyes stared blindly across at them. Ace was about to go over to him, when she heard the distant thud of footsteps boots on stone from what seemed like miles away down the hallway.

'Someone's coming!' Ace tugged at the Doctor's sleeve. For a moment she thought he was going to go on tapping the arm of the woman, who was showing no reaction at all to all the attention. But the Doctor seemed to hear her a few seconds after she had finished speaking, and suddenly he was skidding across the tiled floor towards the nearest tapestry. He pulled it back so that it almost swamped him, and held it out with his umbrella until Ace had dived behind. Then he joined her.

'An android?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No, stranger than that.'

'Oh?'

He turned to face her, the light from the room filtered in behind the tapestry and lit one side of his face, throwing the other into sharp relief. 'They're real real people.'

Ace grabbed for the tapestry and pulled it back to look at the statue*like figures again. But the Doctor s.n.a.t.c.hed it away from her and smoothed it into stillness, his finger to his lips. They both peered out from behind the edge.

The footsteps that Ace had heard down the corridor were still a long way off, the sounds echoing louder as they approached. Suddenly they seemed to galvanize the old man into action. His eyes blinked once, and then he hurried over to the woman, his steps taking him almost sideways across the room as he glanced nervously between her and the door.

The woman blinked too, her gaze focusing on the man as he approached. She seemed almost as nervous as he, the serenity of her stance broken in a split second.

Ace strained to hear the old man. He was speaking hurriedly, obviously wanting to finish what he had to say before they were interrupted. But while his voice was in a hurry, his vocabulary was working against him: 'He will come straight. Look you lay home to him: Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with.

And that your Grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him.' He was standing by her now, almost tugging at her dress in nervous excitement, except that he seemed worried to touch her.

'I'll silence me even here,' he went on with another glance at the door. About time too, thought Ace. Whoever was coming would be in the room in a second, 'Pray you be round with him,' the old man finished.

The Doctor leaned towards Ace in the gloom. 'I think I know where we are,' he whispered.

'Where?'

But before he could answer a voice called out from the corridor: 'Mother?' The footsteps stopped, and after a moment it called again 'Mother?' The footsteps started again almost into the room now. 'Mother!'

The Doctor nodded as if this confirmed his theory.

'Well?'

But the Doctor shook his head. 'If I'm right, we'll know in a moment.'

The woman was speaking now, nervous almost shrill: 'I'll warrant you. Fear me not. Withdraw I hear him coming.'

Ace would have commented on the woman's poor sense of hearing, except that at that moment the tapestry in front of her was pulled back and the old man dived in at them. Ace gasped, and even the Doctor seemed taken aback. Oh well, she thought, on with the bracelets. But the man ignored them both and turned back to face the room, peering out through the gap that Ace and Doctor had been using. Ace and the Doctor exchanged glances. When they looked back towards the man, he was gone.

'Doctor I don't like this.'

But the Doctor just nodded at the back of the tapestry. Ace could hear the man who had been approaching for so long walk across the room towards the woman. His voice was quieter and more reasonable now, but it still had an edge. 'Now, mother, what's the matter?' Ace could imagine him taking her hands in his.

'Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.'

She stared at the Doctor. He nodded.

'Mother,' came the voice from behind the curtain, rising in volume, getting angry, 'you have my my father much offended.' father much offended.'

'Yes, Ace. We're in Elsinore. And I don't like it either.'

The room seemed much smaller with them all crammed into it. The machine was the centre of attention of course. The whole party stood round and examined Bernice's find.

Fortalexa was the only one who had actually dared to touch it, running his fingers over the control panel and tapping the barrel*like extension. Klasvik was talking about using thermoluminescence to establish the machine's age. Gilmanuk was advocating fission*track dating while Lannic was more concerned with its purpose. Behind them, Tashman and Krayn were talking in low voices about Cambri's death.

Fortalexa was ignoring them all. He was now lying down under the wheeled trolley, poking at the machine from underneath. 'He gets like this with machinery can't stop tinkering,' Bannahilk said quietly to Benny.

'Do you think he can work it?'

'Oh, he can work it. I think he's more concerned with finding out what it's for.'

He was right. In a moment Fortalexa was back on his feet, dusting the palms of his hands against each other. 'Well,' he announced, 'I've no idea how old it is. But I know what it does.'

The other conversations stopped.

'But, Hamlet Hamlet's just a play it isn't real. I know we did for English in the fifth year.'

'Really?' Now he knew what was happening, the Doctor seemed amused by the whole notion. 'But it's happening.'