Doctor Who_ Ultimate Treasure Part 1

THE ULTIMATE TREASURE.

by CHRISTOPHER BULIS.

CHAPTER 1

VISIONS AND PORTENTS.

The only illumination in the Seers' chamber came from the ring of nine tall thick candles mounted in bra.s.s cups on the floor at its centre. Surrounding this, seated cross-legged on the black marble that lined the chamber, was the a.s.sembly of Seers themselves, numbering one for each of the candles. They were robed in black, leaving only their faces and hands uncovered, so they appeared to float disembodied in the darkness. All were adepts of the Seventh Circle. None of lesser mental power would be capable of the feat they were now attempting.

'It is time, brothers and sisters,' said Shalvis softly, her words echoing back in whispers from the invisible walls.

The Seers closed their eyes and bowed their heads and the thin silver tendrils that rose curving backward from each of their high foreheads began to lift and stretch. The trembling hazy air over the candle ring rippled as though disturbed by a sudden wind.

The smoke swirled into a funnel and then it seemed a black pit opened within it - not the blackness of clear air, but something far, far deeper. It was as though a hole had been opened in the very fabric of time and s.p.a.ce. For a moment the smoke flowed downward into the candles, even as the rivulets of wax on their shafts ran back up to reform about the flames. Then the process reversed and the candle flames brightened as they began to burn down the wicks again with astonishing speed. A cl.u.s.ter of sparks drifted slowly within the dark void like stars, which perhaps they were. The image of a blue-and-white-speckled orb appeared: a world as seen from s.p.a.ce. This was replaced by a cl.u.s.ter of buildings, then a group of faces, then frantic activity and accelerated action. Behind the figures suns seared across the sky and moons flashed through their phases in seconds. Each scene flickered past faster and faster, eventually dissolving into a blur of light and colour that finally resolved itself into a shimmering white globular opacity.

'The way is open,' said Shalvis, noting the rapidly sinking candles. 'Begin.'

The first Seer on her left sent his mental projection into the vortex, sampling the myriad twisting currents of time that flowed within it. 'I see journeys beginning with death... five parties of seekers shall set out but only four will arrive.' He withdrew his projection, trembling from those few seconds of intense effort.

The second in the ring cast forth her projection. 'I see them also,' she confirmed. 'But some of their forms are peculiar... uh, machinery intervenes... ' Then she also drew back, gasping with relief.

'Two travel with the rest but are also apart,' said the third.

'One is bound up with a quasi-living thing. Its nature I cannot determine,' said the forth.

'The other will arrive transformed but purposeful... a facsimile,'

said the fifth.

'What of their fellow seekers' natures?' Shalvis asked quickly.

The candles were burning lower by the moment.

'Simple greed for some, a desire for personal gain intermingled with duty for others, two who follow out of loyalty, one with a youthful sense of adventure...' the sixth Seer reported.

'And one whose motivations I cannot quite fathom... ambition, but also a curious detachment...' said the seventh.

'But there is also another who has a mind of power... ah, I recognise the type now,' said the eighth with satisfaction.

Now it was Shalvis's turn. As always she held her projection longest in the time stream.

'I see their names clearly now... and the two others who are apart. One is a troubled intelligence caught between worlds... a lost spirit. Both have gone beyond death, but will not relinquish their hold on life. Each in their own way are seekers, their destinies intertwined...' The candles were mere stubs guttering in their cups as she strained to read more. 'The first we must aid, the second -' With a moan she shrank back, withdrawing her projection just as she was about to lose control.

The white globe collapsed in upon itself and was gone in a swirl of smoke as the candle flames were snuffed out. For a moment there was total darkness. Then artificial lights flared into life at a wordless command, illuminating the black chamber with a cool steady radiance. The nine candles in the centre of the room stood tall and whole once more, looking as though they had never been lit.

The other Seers crowded anxiously round Shalvis, who had slumped back on one elbow, and helped ease her upright. 'You should not exert yourself so,' said the fifth. 'Remember the danger.' said the second.

Shalvis smiled wearily, and gently pushed aside their supporting hands. 'I am unharmed,' she a.s.sured them. 'The last sight was deeper than I would have wished.'

'What did you learn?' asked the eighth practically.

'I glimpsed the true nature of the second who is apart,' said Shalvis with a slight shudder, looking up at their anxious faces.

'Our powers alone will not defeat such evil - and we can do nothing to prevent its coming!'

CHAPTER 2.

THE PRICE OF KNOWLEDGE.

The public phone in corridor 25 of Astroville's Delta tower was little used, which was why Hok had given its number to his buyer. He had good reasons for not revealing his personal phone code. So he had lurked within earshot of the booth, cursing silently whenever somebody pa.s.sed by. But at almost exactly the agreed second the phone rang. Hok reached it before the second tone had died away, punching the 'Sound Only Selected' key even as he accepted the call.

'Buyer?' he asked simply to the blank screen.

'Yes. Seller?' came the reply, in a voice Hok tentatively cla.s.sed as humanoid.

'Speaking. You will meet me in exactly one standard hour at Chocky's Inn, central concourse, level 3, corridor 14.You will each be wearing green trillis blossoms on your persons. Bring the full payment in the manner agreed. Do not be late. That is all.'

Hok broke the connection and shuffled away from the booth as fast as his stubby, aged locomotor limbs would allow. As he went he rubbed a pair of his manipulator tentacles together in a gesture of antic.i.p.ation he had learnt from some of his human acquaintances. The item had cost him a great deal to acquire, as had the computing time needed for its deciphering, but its sale would ensure he spent his declining years in luxury. This transaction alone would cover his expenses and leave a modest profit, but owing to the nature of the commodity in question there was no need to stop there. His merchandise was genuine and the provenances he had provided to all his potential customers were honest. But he had promised none of them that they would be his only customers.

'How about this one, Doctor?' Peri asked, sweeping out of the changing cubicle and striking a pose.

The Doctor looked up from his chaise longue in the fashion house's main salon and benignly appraised the floor-length ballgown-like creation in diagonal stripes of crimson and cobalt blue.

'Ah, yes. Most fetching. Of course, on Gamma Ceffilos 12, that style and combination of colours means you are a recently widowed mother still in mourning, but would be accepting new suitors after the next lunar conjunction.'

Peri returned to the cubical to try on another costume.

'Perhaps modom would care to try something slightly less formal?' the robot attendant suggested deferentially, lisping slightly. Yes, it actually had said: 'modom', Peri decided. Where had it been programmed to talk like that?

Nevertheless, Perpugilliam Brown (Peri to her friends) admitted to herself that she was having the time of her life.

Only a few days ago, relatively speaking, she had been on twentieth-century Lanzarote, Earth, and desperate to get away from her stepfather's boring archaeological expedition. Well she had certainly managed that - and then some. Who would have expected a disguised s.p.a.ce-time machine known as the TARDIS to be waiting for her on the beach? After a dangerous excursion to the planet Sarn, the Doctor, the TARDIS's owner, had agreed to let her travel with him for the remaining three months of her holiday. Of course, that three months could be spent virtually anywhere in time and s.p.a.ce. Currently, at the Doctor's suggestion, she was getting acclimatised to mixing with alien races and cultures on Astroville Seven; a thirty-first-century s.p.a.ceborn trading post many light years in s.p.a.ce away from her own Earth. And, as she'd left with only what she'd be been wearing, wasn't it perfectly reasonable that she had to shop for some new clothes first? The Doctor had shown her the huge store of costumes for all occasions that the TARDIS carried, but she'd really wanted to chose her own from new. Once he understood, a mild indulgent look had spread across the Doctor's face, and so here she was.

Peri caught sight of herself in the cubicle's multiple mirrors.

She had clear skin, lightly tanned by the Lanzarote sun, with regular features framed by collar-length dark hair. Her figure was compact and well developed in a manner she was quietly pleased with. But at that moment, she decided, her most notable feature was the broad grin of sheer delight at the adventure she had found herself in. And she was determined to enjoy every second of it.

The attendant produced a sort of silver metallic jumpsuit.

'Perhaps this would be more to modom's taste?'

For a moment Peri eyed the design with interest, then the silver glitter reminded her of Kamelion and she frowned. The shape-shifting android had been the Doctor's companion when she joined him. But it had come under the influence of the Master, the Doctor's arch enemy, who had turned it against them. It had tried to take over the TARDIS and then chased her across Sarn's rugged landscape, first looking like her stepfather, then as the Master, and sometimes a hybrid of them and its true form.

Eventually, stricken with remorse at what it saw as its disloyalty and knowing it could no longer be trusted, Kamelion had begged the Doctor to put a merciful end to its tortured existence. It was a sad experience she'd prefer not to be reminded of.

'Uh, no thanks,' she told the attendant. 'I think I've got all I want now.'

The Doctor was paying for her purchases with some sort of futuristic credit system, which was fortunate because the plastic cards she had with her would probably be accepted only by a museum here and now. She watched him as he thumbprinted the transaction pad and arranged for the purchases to be sent by cargo tube to their docking bay.

He was a tall man with collar-length, straight, blond hair, and amiable clean-cut features. He appeared to be in his early thirties, but she guessed he was much older. His eyes were dangerously deep and very intelligent. His preferred costume was a white period frock coat, striped trousers, and a V-necked English cricketing jumper. For some reason he finished off his ensemble with a sprig of celery in his b.u.t.tonhole. She was working her way up to asking why. All things considered she privately acknowledged that he was somebody she might find it very easy to fall for in a big way - except that she knew instinctively that was not going to happen. The usual rules didn't apply to the Doctor. For all his outward appearance, there was something mysterious and, well, alien about him. Perhaps that was part of his appeal.

Chocky's Inn was only half full at this hour, which was why Hok had chosen it.

The moment he entered he saw his two customers already seated at a corner table nursing drinks. Humanoids, as he had suspected. One thin and elegant by human standards, neatly dressed and well groomed; the other stockier and slightly crumpled, looking around him with sharp impatient eyes. An interesting and rather ill-a.s.sorted pair, Hok thought. What chance had thrown them together? Still, as long as they had the money, it was no business of his.

'I am the seller,' he announced, sliding into the spare seat beside them. 'You have the payment?'

The crumpled man produced a small heavy case from an inner pocket, placed it on the table and raised the lid. Hok saw a metallic glitter within.

Twenty bars, as agreed,' he said. 'You have the doc.u.ment?'

Hok produced a data capsule. The thin man took it and slipped it into a portable reader. Hok saw his eyes glint eagerly as he scanned the text, then nodded to his companion, who pushed the case across the table to Hok.

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Hok said, slipping the case into his belt pouch. 'I wish you luck. Perhaps you would be so good as to finish your drinks before leaving - discretion, you understand.'

And he was away through the bar doors before they could reply.

When the two left five minutes later there was no sign of Hok.

Not that either man took any trouble to look for him. There was a barely repressed eagerness in their steps as they headed in the direction of the main docking boom elevators. Neither noticed the floating camera drone that had been hovering un.o.btrusively in the shadows of the corridor ceiling. As they set off it dropped down and glided silently after them.

Astroville Seven served the recreational and administrative needs of a stellar nebula and its a.s.sociated swarm of asteroids and minor planets. It more than satisfied Peri's expectations of what a futuristic s.p.a.ce city should be like. As she had exclaimed when she first arrived, 'Oh, wow! This is really some place, Doctor.'

Astroville resembled a merger between a couple of Houston astrodomes, several skysc.r.a.pers and the Eiffel Tower, producing a central core bristling with residential towers and docking trees.

s.p.a.cecraft from star yachts to liners berthed at its many airlock bays. Its huge open central concourse was ringed with descending concentric tiers of walkways and shops, while crossing above them were transparent freefall elevator tubes carrying pa.s.sengers and cargo like floating thistledown. Viewing windows the size of tennis courts were let into the outer walls, revealing a glowing nebula of multicoloured gas illuminated by a dozen stars shining like diamonds in chiffon.

And populating this megastructure were things that walked on two legs, four legs, more legs that she could count. Blue skins, green skins, iridescent skins, scales. Crawling things, rolling things, flying things. Things of odd shapes she couldn't begin to describe hidden within pressure suits. There were even a few things she wasn't sure were alive or not, except that they moved about. Like the United Nations but cubed. And she must think of them all, the Doctor had gently explained, as people.

Suddenly, amid the riot of shapes and colours, the need came upon her to buy a souvenir.

'Peri,' the Doctor chided gently upon hearing her desire, 'isn't the experience itself enough for you?'

'But it's traditional,' she protested. 'I've got to have something tangible to show for being here, or else I'll never believe it really happened. I've got my cultural heritage to uphold, you know.'

'I thought all those clothes might suffice.'

'Clothes aren't souvenirs!'

'Aren't they?' he wondered with mild surprise. 'Well, I'm sure there's somewhere we can buy a model of the station in a gla.s.s globe, which produces a miniature snowstorm when you shake it.'

'Not quite so tacky, Doctor,' Peri said, consulting her electronic guidebook. 'It says the lower levels of Blue section are good for that sort of thing. That's down this way. Come on.'

The Doctor followed her to the nearest gray chute, an amused and indulgent smile on his lips.

Hok returned to his shop by the back door that opened off a small service pa.s.sage. He was elated by his first transaction. The final sale of the data original to Alpha would be the trickiest, of course, but by then he would have nothing left to hide. It had been impossible to arrange the purchase of such an important item without Alpha's knowing, but he had been able to mislead him over the day of delivery. Those precious few hours so gained he planned to use very profitably indeed.

He pa.s.sed through the storeroom, switching off the alarm and master locking system on the way, and entered the front shop.

As he was about to turn on the lights he realised he was not alone.

Three figures emerged from amid the jumble of bric-a-brac and curios. Two were human - one compact the other tall and thin - while the third was probably a Cantarite: bulky, slab-sided and horned. Their features were blurred by glimmer masks, but even with this distortion and the gloom of the shop's interior he knew immediately who they were, and a chill seemed to penetrate his carapace.

'Now where have you been all this time, Hok?' said the smaller human, his expression impossible to read behind his intimidating mask and his words oddly distorted by its diffraction effect.

'Nowhere special, Qwaid,' Hok said quickly, trying to keep his voice level. 'Just business... buying some new stock.'

'Just business, is it?' Qwaid said. 'Well that's fine, because we're here on Mr Alpha's business. About that special item of merchandise, remember?'

'But I arranged to meet him tomorrow.'

'Ah, well, Mr Alpha gets these strange fancies, you see, doesn't he lads?'

Gribbs, the thin human, clicked his tongue: 'That he does.'

Drorgon the Cantarite merely grunted agreement, like a rumble of distant thunder.

'His fancy was,' Qwaid continued, 'that you might take it into your head to sell on a copy of the merchandise to somebody else before him, and he wouldn't like that. He wants to be the sole owner, like. I told him: Hok wouldn't cross you, Mr Alpha, he respects you too much. But he was very insistent, and when Mr Alpha insists on something it gets done. So we've come to collect the goods a little early, just to be on the safe side.

'But, but... I haven't got it here.'

There was a crash and rattle of pottery shards. The remains of a third-period Tabaron vase lay about Drorgon's heavy horn-toed feet.

'Now see what you've gone and done,' Qwaid said regretfully.

'You've annoyed Drorgon. And when he gets annoyed he gets clumsy and breaks things: vases, doors... bones.' He looked about the shop and shook his head sadly. 'And there's an awful lot he could break here, so I'd think carefully about what I just asked you.'

Hok had never been particularly brave, and such resolve as he had crumbled under Qwaid's mocking tones. Why had he ever believed he could deceive Alpha? Instinctively a couple of tentacles clutched at his belt pouch.

'Oh, there it is,' Qwaid said.

Hok struggled feebly as Gribbs held his neck and Qwaid emptied the contents of his pouch out on to a table. The money-bar case fell with a thud. Qwaid opened it up and whistled.