The Well-Mannered War Part 36

'Suggest the Femdroid known as Galatea contains, like myself, secondary memory wafers and independent motive units,' said K9. 'The correct stimulus would revive her.'

The Doctor shook his head firmly. 'Nice try, K9, and no doubt you're right. If I was putting together a system like that I'd build a failsafe into the wiring of the leading android, just like I did with you.'

'It's standard practice,' said Romana. 'Make a copy of your software. The trouble is we don't know the correct stimulus, so we can't revive her.'

'Suggest it is based on my stimulus,' said K9. 'The amulets worn by all Femdroids used high-frequency radio waves to cross-refer coded information.'

The Doctor and Romana looked at each other. 'I suppose it's worth a shot,'

said the Doctor. 'But we'd need to input directly into her amulet.'

'My linkage is directly compatible,' said K9.

The Doctor rapped him on the head. 'You know what your problem is?' .

'Please tell me, Master.'

'You're becoming too useful.'

K9 clicked slowly and angrily. 'Query this tautology Master.'

'He means,' said Romana, 'you're a threat to his sense of self-importance.'

The Doctor looked her right in the eye and said evenly 'I meant he's a threat to the validity of organic life. If they can run rings around us, organize our lives like they do on Metralubit, and keep us happy into the bargain, there seems not much point in our carrying on. Existence is meant to be a struggle.' He looked up at the sky again then over at the hapless, cowed band of survivors. 'Perhaps this is how the universe ends. Everything filed away neatly, balanced, in its place.'

Romana disagreed. 'The reverse is probably the case. Heat death would lead to levels of chaos and decay imperceptible to the lived experience of any creature, however long-lived.' She looked out over the bleak landscape. 'Pretty soon all matter will go the way of this place.'

'Eternal Eastbourne,' mused the Doctor. 'A universe in retirement.' He leant close to her and whispered, 'I think you're learning.'

She blinked. 'Learning what? I'm already fully qualified.'

'Learning that nothing worth learning can be taught.'

He turned his attention back to K9. 'Enough waffle. Get whistling.'

Stokes had collapsed against the door of the TARDIS, letting his body slide to the ground. It hummed against the back of his head like an old refrigerator, soothing his exhausted frame. He was delirious from running all this way - some five or six miles, he reckoned - across hard ground littered with corpses, and there was a terrible insistent pain in the centre of his chest and another throbbing away in the small of his back. His legs and arms felt stretched and stringy, and his tongue was dry and coated with dust.

'Open the door,' he breathed, too exhausted to pull the crystal from his pocket. 'I know you can do it. Open the door.'

He heard a creak behind him. With enormous effort he started to crawl out of the cold, wet air of Barclow and into the warm white interior of the TARDIS.

In a pocket of existence unvisitable by organic life, two intelligences opened up a place and convered in a strange piping language. They found that in many ways they possessed the same intelligence.

Galatea, you must reactivate your motive systems to save Metralubit, said K9.

Her response struck his as odd and illogical. She said, K9, you would have K9, you would have been a fine Premier, the simulation would have confirmed you leader been a fine Premier, the simulation would have confirmed you leader following the destruction of the Hive. following the destruction of the Hive.

This is not relevant information, said K9, although he surprised himself at the excitation this information caused his circuits. said K9, although he surprised himself at the excitation this information caused his circuits. Please reactivate motive Please reactivate motive power power.

Galatea continued, K9, with you at my side I would never be lonely again. K9, with you at my side I would never be lonely again.

That was my plan. That was what I asked for, and I was given it.

K9 was losing his patience. Your personality matrix is encoded with Your personality matrix is encoded with unsuitable and unproductive organic-type responses. You must carry out unsuitable and unproductive organic-type responses. You must carry out your program. your program.

There was the equivalent of a pause before Galatea replied, I cannot. Only I cannot. Only the Creators knew my reactivation stimulus, and they are long dead. It the Creators knew my reactivation stimulus, and they are long dead. It might take you thousands of years to find the right combination. might take you thousands of years to find the right combination.

K9 redoubled his efforts. It is within your power to locate the failsafe It is within your power to locate the failsafe stimulus within yourself and relay it to me. Remember your programme. stimulus within yourself and relay it to me. Remember your programme.

The maximum happiness for the maximum number of organics. If you do not wake now, millions of them will die. not wake now, millions of them will die.

Galatea said n.o.bly, You are correct. I must save the organics. I will release You are correct. I must save the organics. I will release the code to you. the code to you.

K9 was the centre of attention in the valley. Romana had attempted to explain to Fritchoff (who had an unpleasant habit of standing too close to her) and the others what was going on, and they had gathered around to watch.

'How are you doing?' asked Harmock. The dog was inert, his eyescreen unlit, his concentration turned inward.

'Don't press him,' said Fritchoff. 'It's vital that you don't overburden him as you overburdened the workers in the dome.'

Jafrid groaned and reached out to touch each of them on the back of the leg. 'Please, please,' he said, 'let us forget our differences for the moment.'

K9 raised his head. 'I have conferred with the intelligence known as Galatea.'

'And?' the Doctor demanded. 'Don't get cryptic.'

'The stimulus has been sent,' said K9. 'Galatea has revived.'

There was loud applause and cheering from the survivors 'Furthermore,' said K9, his attention fIxed on Harmock. 'I have learnt from Galatea the predicted outcome of the election. I would have gained power.'

Hannock snorted. 'Nonsense. There were no electorate. How could you possibly have won?'

'You did it often enough,' pointed out Fritchoff.

'Nominally,' said K9, 'I am the Premier of Metralubit.'

Stokes wandered around the gleaming white central console of the TARDIS, his hands roving eagerly over the many switches, levers and dials that covered its six surfaces, his eyes drawn to the transparent cylinder that contained the pumping mechanism that powered its flight, now at rest. 'I could leave here now,' he said quietly, with a guilty backward glance at the open door through which he could see the harsh surface of Barclow. 'If only I knew how to work the blasted thing.'

His eye was caught by a screen built into one of the console panels. It contained the message BOUNDARY PARAMETERS EXCEEDED in large, important lettering. Intrigued, and beginning to wonder if the TARDIS contained some kind of operating instructions, he fiddled with one of the golden b.u.t.tons beneath the unit. Instantly the image broke up and a new message appeared. It read INFORMATION SYSTEM: READY FOR ENTRY.

Stokes shivered. In there was knowledge gathered from all corners of the universe, from worlds so distant and cultures so alien he might never have encountered them even if he had spent a life in exploration. At his fingertips was a library that would answer the mysteries of science, explain away the wonders men had died trying to understand, relate the histories of entire galaxies from the perspective of near-omnipotence. A sizeable chunk of the wisdom of the Time Lords was at his disposal. He could ask for anything, any piece of important information.

And the unimportant things? The things and people that had lived and toiled and died for nothing, whose efforts went unrewarded, whose talent was wasted? The answer lay in there, too. They would be conspicuous by their absence.

He typed in SYBILLA STRANG. The data bank replied NO ENTRY. A Warm feeling welled inside him. He typed in NUNTON ODDSTOCK. NO ENTRY. The warm feeling grew. Then the names started to spew out from deep within. All his detractors: BOOTLE ANDERSON, ROLAND TENBY, JACINTHA WYERLAKE. NO ENTRY, NO ENTRY, NO ENTRY.

Beautiful.

He reached out with a shaking hand and tapped in slowly MENLOVE STOKES.

Awareness returned to Galatea with a jolt. At her feet was the smashed body of poor, trusting Liris. Before her was the window of Harnlock's study, with its view of the empty city; in the corridors outside she could hear genuine calls of dismay and alarm from the dome workers. When she looked up she saw why.

The Hive was coming in, descending through the clear green cloudless sky, casting a cold shadow across the room as she watched.

Her amulet crackled with activity. K9 sent insistently, I shall relay I shall relay instructions from my Master. Go to the transmat station. instructions from my Master. Go to the transmat station.

I am no slave, Galatea sent back. Galatea sent back. Tell your 'Master' that. I go of my own Tell your 'Master' that. I go of my own accord. accord.

'I go of my own accord,' K9 said haughtily, relaying Galatea's words to his large audience.

'She was always so polite to me,' said Harnlock. 'I'd never have guessed she was unhappy in any way.'

Romana said, 'This answers your argument, Doctor. Without your knowledge of transmat technology Galatea, for all her sophistication, wouldn't be any use at all.'

He was too busy to take much notice of her remark. 'K9,' he said, speaking directly into the dog's ears, 'tell your pal to narrow the field of the disa.s.sembling network.'

The Darkness slowed itself. It still smarted slightly from pa.s.sing in and out of two planetary atmospheres at high speed, but it was equipped to protect itself well from such hazards. A thick layer of hardened spittle acted as a heat shield, and streaks of red still glowed from certain points on the outer surface.

The Onemind located Metron City, empty and unpalatable. It would find the transmat there, in the dome, together with the few hundred remaining beasts. It would be a pitiable meal. It consoled itself by plucking images from the Onememory of previous feasts: the tinkling of fresh blood in the tubes, bile-stock tanks full, mucus levels optimum.

Such happy days would come again.

Galatea stood in the wrecked control centre, her hands moving swiftly over the transmat settings.

The chittering and buzzing of the Hive filled the corridors of the dome and filtered down to this, the lowest level. She had already brought the ma.s.sive transmat projectors located in low orbit to bear on the area just outside the dome.

Decirculate the ferenzal loop, sent K9. sent K9. The settings should then become The settings should then become visible. visible.

She reached forward and snapped a thin length of plastic tubing.

Immediately a hologram appeared in mid-air, displaying the complex transmat coordinates set for Regus V: I have the coordinates, said Galatea. said Galatea. What am I to do next? What am I to do next?

There was a slight pause. Then K9 said, Invert them. Invert them.

Galatea reached out, her hands flickering over the hologram. The numbers, letters and mathematical symbols upon it began to reverse themselves, switching to minus values.

'The Hive is beginning its final approach,' said K9.

'I hope this works,' said a voice. Everyone looked at the owner. It was the young military man, Cadinot. Romana smiled at him.

'There's no reason why it shouldn't,' said the Doctor. 'We just flip the Hive into a permanent transition state. Disa.s.sembled const.i.tuents floating forever in nothingness.'

Romana frowned. 'Until somebody, somewhere, tries to travel through those coordinates for themselves. The Hive will be pushed out into normal s.p.a.ce.'