Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 2

Looking out over the ornamental gardens with the Mansionhouse soaring up behind them, Bernice decided she would have financed the entire expedition herself just to be a.s.sured of this visit. She had once stumbled across a holoschematic of ancient Versailles while looking for source doc.u.ments pertaining to Thetalian transport systems. It was well known that Braxiatel had based the Mansionhouse and its grounds on the ancient Terran Palace of Versailles. But if Louis XIV could have seen what Braxiatel had accomplished he would have sacked his architects and landscapers and started again.

They called her name twice before she heard it, retrieved her plasti*disc and walked in a daze to the door which led out to the flyer.

The six*seater Ormand*Seltec flyer sat incongruously on the paved courtyard, a lovingly cared*for antique in an even older setting. The cedar trees towered above it and the dwarf crastions marked out the landing pad in a symmetrical formation of greenery. There were just two of them, excluding the pilot: Bernice and the Heletian man from the shuttle flight. He politely let her step up into the flyer first, ducking to avoid the rotors which drooped lazily over the doorway.

Bernice sat by the port window and her companion sat next to her on the bench seat, close but not embarra.s.singly so. 'You've not been before, I take it.'

She laughed. 'Is it that obvious?'

'Oh yes. It always is, not surprisingly. They almost had to drag me from that window in the reception area when I first came. You get a little blase after a while.' Bernice must have looked surprised, because he went on: 'Yes, I suppose it's a bit sad really. Even this quaint form of transport loses its charm and just becomes noisy after a few flights.'

The pilot swung round in his chair and waved down the aisle at them. 'Two for Archaeology right?'

Bernice and her companion exchanged glances. 'Right,' she called back.

The pilot nodded, and was about to turn back to the controls when the man beside Bernice coughed again, just loud enough for the pilot to hear. 'Could we perhaps take the scenic route? For some of our party this is the first performance.'

The pilot and Bernice both smiled at the formality. 'The scenic route it is, sir.'

The rotors' tips lifted as they began to turn, increasing speed until the flyer eased off the ground the tail section lifting slightly before the nose. Then the flyer turned and rose, nose still angled towards the ground, perhaps for reasons of aerodynamics, perhaps to give a better view, before setting off over the trees and towards the Mansionhouse.

Bernice broke away from the view for a moment and held out her hand to her fellow pa.s.senger. 'Professor Bernice Summerfield, My friends call me Benny.'

With a smile, the man took her hand and squeezed it gently. 'Panactum Gilmanuk also Professor. My friends use whichever they feel most comfortable with.' Bernice laughed. 'Thanks Professor.'

The archaeology section was in the main Mansionhouse rather than one of the outlying buildings. The flyer dropped Benny and Gilmanuk by the huge mock*Versuvial door and lifted off again almost immediately, the cool breeze from its rotors rippling Benny's sweats.h.i.+rt as she s.h.i.+elded her eyes against the sun and surveyed the terraces stretching away into the distance. The curvature of the planetoid was such that they seemed to drop away ever steeper until they disappeared out of sight, the sculptured waterfalls spraying their last cascades out over the edge of the world.

Gilmanuk waited for her inside the door and led the way up the huge marble staircase.

It was one of the biggest rooms that Bernice had ever seen, perhaps a hundred metres long and over ten metres wide. The polished floor seemed to go on forever beneath a ceiling which curved up to a gla.s.s roof. The sunlight shone in bands between the leading and soaked one side of the room in yellow. It was the sides that were the most impressive. They were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves, each shelf meticulously bar*coded and struggling to hold the weight of the doc.u.ments, discs and optical spheres jammed on to it.

At intervals across the width of the room were pillared part.i.tions with wooden desks against them. At several desks sat researchers fortunate to be granted access to the collection. They worked in silence, lost deep in piles of papers and storage media or engrossed in the graphics and read*outs which played across the desktop terminals. As Benny watched, one elderly man stood and, almost reverently carrying an optical disc, opened a door at the back of the part.i.tion and went into the darkened room beyond.

'Holographic simulation,' whispered Gilmanuk. 'Despite the somewhat, er, archaic trappings they have the most modern facilities here.'

Bernice nodded, and followed Gilmanuk down towards the nearest desk. The old man behind it stood as they approached. He looked how Bernice imagined the Ancient Mariner must have been long white beard, face wrinkled and pale with age, and eyes full of experience with perhaps a hint of suffering. She felt that even if she had not met him in this storehouse of knowledge that she would have seen depths of learning and wisdom in him.

The old man nodded to them. 'Professor Gilmanuk, how nice to see you again.' Gilmanuk smiled. 'And this is ?' The old man peered at Bernice. She felt suddenly out of place amongst the academics and researchers. Her jeans felt rough and her sweats.h.i.+rt seemed rather informal in the context of the robed figures around her. Perhaps she should have brought one of her Parisian dresses certainly it would have been less out of place.

'Professor Summerfield.' Gilmanuk answered for her.

The old man was silent for a moment. Then his face sprang into life as if he had found her index entry in the dark corners of his dusty mind. 'Ah yes. Welcome to the Collection.: I am Archivist Elliniko, in charge of the archaeology libraries.' He paused, surveying Bernice again; his keen eyes gave away nothing, but his cracked voice was less tactful. 'What a shame that Rhukk could not bring the findings from Phaester Osiris himself.' He held out his hand across the desk.

Bernice thought at first he wanted to shake hands with her, but she instinctively knew that was not the case. There was an awkward pause. The archivist gestured with his outstretched hand, waggling the wrinkled fingers at her, and Benny realized that he was asking for the data discs She pulled them from her satchel and put them on the desk. The archivist frowned and reached down for them, pulling them into a tidy pile by the unnecessary blotter.

How do I apply for a research ticket?' asked Bernice partly to continue the conversation and have the last word and partly because she really wanted to know.'

The archivist raised an eyebrow. 'You don't,' he said with finality, 'Oh. So much for scientific advancement and the enlightening of the ma.s.ses.'

The archivist blinked. But Gilmanuk smiled kindly. 'They are available by invitation only, I believe.'

'That's correct.' The archivist seemed a little surprised that Gilmanuk had deigned to speak to Bernice but since he had, the exchange had somehow been legitimized. We'll see what is on your discs, and perhaps next time you come we will discuss it again.'

Short discussion, thought Bernice. But she said 'Thanks.' And she meant it.

The archivist nodded. 'If you will excuse us?' He turned back to Gilmanuk who pulled a couple of discs from his tunic and handed them over. The archivist took them carefully.

'Lannic's aborted expedition to Menaxus. What data there is.'

'The archivist looked at Gilmanuk and Bernice could sense a new intensity in his gaze. 'Tell me what happened.' His voice was almost a whisper. 'And when does Lannic go back?'

Gilmanuk took thirty minutes to relate the story, or what he knew of it, and to answer the archivist's questions about the new expedition. Bernice had listened in silence to the whole thing. There were things she wanted to ask, but was afraid that if she spoke the other two would be reminded she was there and become less animated or even order her out.

More than five years ago Camarina Lannic had found the Menaxus files while researching something else entirely at the Braxiatel Collection. From related records and by some brilliant deduction she had pinpointed the position on the planet's surface where the ma.s.sive theatre complex referred to in the doc.u.ments was sited. Obtaining a grant from the Heletian ruler the Exec even at the height of their expensive advance into the Rippearean Territories had not been a problem. Anything to do with theatre had top priority on Heletia.

Bernice knew something of the history of Heletia: a colony originally founded by a troupe of ambitious actors who wanted to set up a permanent playhouse to stage the greatest drama of the universe. They had come a long way since then. An expansionist race, though still centred in one small habitable area of their own barren planet, they were now finally being chased back to their homelands after several years of advance. But they were still heavily influenced by their theatrical background. They fervently believed that only cultures that had a history of sophisticated dramatic production were truly civilized. To find evidence of so similar a culture within the same sector must have been quite a coup for Lannic.

And now, Gilmanuk had said, with the radiation dispersed, Lannic was going back to finish the abandoned expedition. Even in retreat the Heletians were willing to fund and supply such an archaeological venture. So they couldn't be that bad. Certainly Gilmanuk seemed pleasant enough, all trace of his former diffidence gone as he furiously polished his spectacles on a handcloth and came t the end of his story. Lannic was going back, with a small team. And Professor Panactum Gilmanuk was going too. The team was almost ready to leave, all they needed was a week to be sure the rad*count was into the safety level and an expert in pre*Elziran artefacts.

Bernice knew almost nothing about pre*Elziran art facts. But as they descended the marble staircase and she suggested that since they had hours till the next shuttle they could walk back to reception rather than bother with a flyer, she was already mentally preparing herself for the expedition.

'You seem to like it here,' Bernice said as they emerge into the bright sunlight.

Gilmanuk laughed quietly, leading the way across the courtyard. 'Yes, yes I do. Though I was dreading this trip actually. Thank you for livening it up a bit.'

'Pleasure.' They continued in silence for a while leaving the courtyard and starting along the path away from the Mansionhouse. 'What were you dreading?' Benny hoped the interval was sufficient for her not to seem too nosy. Here in the grounds, with the terraces stretching away in front of them, it was hard to believe that anything was other than serene and calm.

'Nothing here. I like Braxiatel it's a break from the war after all.' He paused, as if unsure whether or not to continue. Then he came to a decision. 'It's my wife. I visited her on the way. I do sometimes.'

Benny nodded. 'You're not together any more?' She realized as soon as she asked that this was not the most perspicacious or tactful of questions.

But Gilmanuk seemed to take the question well. 'Er, no. No we're not.'

Benny nodded again, unwilling to press him on the subject, but unable to think of a way of changing the subject without it seeming obvious.

'We had a son. He kept us together for a while.' They turned off the main drive on to a narrow path towards a line of trees. 'If living in the same accommodation means together. He was called up on his eighteenth birthday, finished training before he was eighteen and a half.' Gilmanuk's eyes were moist behind his spectacles in the afternoon sunlight.

Benny knew what was coming next. She said nothing she was not sure Gilmanuk even remembered she was there, as he stared into the middle distance.

'He was dead within a year. Revenwik filed for permission to visit a relative she never had on Panderian Major and left that week.'

'I'm sorry.' It was inadequate, and they both knew it. But Gilmanuk smiled sadly and they continued down the path in silence.

'Isn't the reception area back that way?' Bernice asked after a while. She had a good sense of direction so the question was rhetorical. They were at the top of an avenue of tall, thin trees which stretched down (everything was down, the planet was so small) in the opposite direction.

'That's the way we came, yes.' Gilmanuk's spectacles caught the sunlight as he nodded quickly, as if the question had startled him out of reverie. 'But we can carry on the way we're going. The scenery is more interesting I should like to show you the Garden of Whispers.'

'Do we have time?' It seemed to Benny that they barely had time to walk the distance the flyer had brought them, let alone take some detour round a garden, however impressive.

'Oh yes, we have time. It's actually a shorter distance to keep going in our current direction than to turn back. But it's only a three*hour walk from the back door of the house round to the front.'

It took Benny a moment to work out what he was talking about. But looking down the length of the gardens ahead of her and seeing them dip away so steeply, she could believe that walking round the whole planetoid was not such a silly notion. She rather liked the idea of being able to walk away from the Mansionhouse and arrive back at the other side of it. 'Like Alice in Wonderland Alice in Wonderland,' she muttered.

'I'm sorry?'

'Or was it Through the Looking Gla.s.s Through the Looking Gla.s.s? Sorry nothing Lead me to this whispering garden, Professor.'

The Garden of Whispers was one of the most impressive areas of the grounds of the Braxiatel Collection. The centrepiece was a small lake, over which willows wept and oak trees towered. A perfect lawn stretched beyond the trees, bounded by the central driveway on one side and high hedges backing on to the parterres of the Small Trianon the other. There were statues humanoid figure positioned throughout the garden. Several were line up along the hedge, facing back towards the Mansionhouse, the roof of which was just visible gleaming above the foreshortened horizon. For a second Bernie imagined the statues' arms poking through the hedge and emerging bodiless the other side, grasping for a hold on pa.s.sers*by and feeling sightlessly for prey. The image seemed vaguely familiar from a vis*cast or play she had seen.

At the far side of the lake, raised on a vantage point, was a summer*house stone caryatids rising to a domed roof were the only walls. Inside the summer*house Benny could see several more figures, posed and immobile, as if some of the statuary that hid amongst the trees beside the lake had crept into the summer*house to admire the view.

Gilmanuk led the way through the trees towards the summer*house which, he a.s.sured Bernice, afforded an excellent view of the garden. 'Every single statue is visible from the summer*house, all forty*seven of them. And it's also the best place to hear the whispers.'

Bernice could already hear the whispers. It was the wind picking its way through the willow trees and playing on the lake's surface. Not real wind, she reminded herself as they pa.s.sed a stone figure poised on one leg as he raised a sword forward and high above his head. Everything here was artificial, except for the raw data in the libraries and archives, They paused outside the summer*house before going up the three shallow steps and stepping inside the ring of female figures which held up the roof for them. A single stone statue stood, ushering them in, and as they pa.s.sed it seemed that it was she who was whispering to them. 'Mandrine the Archalite G.o.ddess of plenty,' Bernice told Gilmanuk, He probably already knew that, and she hoped he had not seen her read it off the plinth. She had already impressed him with her understanding of pre*Elziran culture, secure in the knowledge that if he needed an expert in the subject he was not one himself. Now she wanted to make sure he knew her peripheral knowledge was also impeccable.

They turned from the three statues inside the summer*house without giving them a second look and stared out across the lake.

'Actually, it's p.r.o.nounced Marn*dry*nee Marn*dry*nee,' said a voice quietly behind them. Gilmanuk looked startled, and Bernice was sure her feet left the ground for a second.

She could see how she had mistaken him for a statue. He was wearing a close*cut grey suit, and he was standing perfectly still. His features were angular but attractive Bernice thought well*chiselled was an apt description. He was tall, thin, appeared to be a little older than Bernice and seemed completely at ease.

'I'm sorry if I startled you.' He smiled, managing to seem both friendly and completely detached, 'I too was admiring the view, although I cannot stay long I'm afraid I shall have to return to my researches soon.'

'It is quite a view.' Bernice was keen to show she had recovered from the shock, but the man hardly seemed to hear her. He pushed forward between Bernice and Gilmanuk, 'This summer*house was constructed by Dupok,' he continued as if she had not spoken. 'He worked from a holographic model. In fact the whole site was modelled as a simularity before construction began.'

'An interesting technique,' said Gilmanuk, 'although rather expensive on such a scale, I would imagine.'

'I imagine so.' The man turned to go.

'Hardly original, though.'

He stopped in mid*turn and looked at Bernice. 'Oh?'

'Much of the design is after all based on the ancient Palace of Versailles. Richard Mique worked from three*dimensional models when he created the small buildings in the grounds there. He gave the models of the Temple of Love and the Belvedere to Marie Antoinette.'

The man laughed. 'Touche.' Then he turned and left, disappearing into the trees behind the summer*house without a backward glance.

'Professor Summerfield Benny,' Gilmanuk had followed the exchange thoughtfully.

'Yes?'

'I'd have to check things with Lannic, of course. But would you consider taking a part in our expedition to Menaxus?'

Bernice swallowed, resisted the urge to hug him, and said quietly, 'Well, I'd obviously need to sort out a few things.' She thought for a moment of the small round device the Doctor had given her. There was no reason why the TARDIS tracker/locator would not work as effectively from Menaxus as from Osiris if she chose to activate it. And what could possibly go wrong on an archaeological dig? 'In principle I don't see any problem,' she said, and saw Gilmanuk's relief as he turned back to the view.

Then she remembered what he had said about the previous expedition, and she thought of her own experiences on Heaven. And she hoped the tracker/locator was still in her satchel.

Source Doc.u.ment 2 Plan of the Pentillanian Theatre of Menaxus Loaned to the Stanarbrian Library by unnamed beneficiary Sketch believed to be by De Witte, c2314. Not to scale.

Chapter 2.

A Bond Honoured The first principle of archaeology is doc.u.mentation. It is the willingness the pa.s.sion for recording minutiae of excavation data to the point of pedantry that separates the men from the boys. Or, in the case of an excavation where material as well as historical wealth may be gained, the archaeologists from the looters.Down Among the Dead Men Professor Bernice Summerfield, 2566 Professor Bernice Summerfield, 2566 They had arrived at Kotosh Station with a day to spare before their rendezvous with the Icoronata Icoronata. The others had already arrived, apart from the orbiter pilot, Lefkhani, who was bringing the s.h.i.+p to the station once it had delivered its current cargo of troops and munitions to the Arfalla colonies.

The first of the team that Benny met was Camarina Lannic. She was a tall, attractive woman, dark hair cascading onto her shoulders and framing a round face with a firm chin. She seemed fully in control of both herself and the expedition and Benny noticed that she took this for granted rather than trying to impress Benny with her position.

'Professor Summerfield? Status meeting on "C" deck in ten minutes,' she told Benny without waiting for confirmation or acknowledgement.

'How do you do you must be Lannic,' Benny said quietly to her retreating back. She might not be impeded by all the niceties of social etiquette, but everyone was on time for the meeting.

The agenda consisted mainly of Lannic going over the events and discoveries of her previous expedition, with precious little time reserved at the end for a few questions and rather fewer answers. They all introduced themselves briefly at the start of the meeting, stating their names and responsibilities. There seemed to be two camps; the military either knew each other already or were indifferent, and the archaeologists seemed at least to have heard of each other. Benny was the odd one out, and this was probably why she was asked to go first.

'Professor Bernice Summerfield. I won t bore you with qualifications and past experience, but I'm here to advise on any artefacts we uncover and generally lend a hand in the excavation work.' There was barely any reaction from anyone; either they were nervous about their own performances to come, or they were more interested in what Lannic had to say. 'My hobbies include bug collecting and poker,' she added with a smile. n.o.body laughed, although several of them looked puzzled. Lannic glared at her, so Benny coughed politely and sat down.

Next up was a.s.sok Bannahilk. It took Benny a while to work out that a.s.sok was a rank rather than a name. Bannahilk was a well built man, stocky almost, with a moustache, Like all the soldiers he had close*cut hair, and like all the Heletians, his eyes were grey. 'a.s.sok Bannahilk in charge of the military side of things and responsible for safety and logistics.' He spoke in a quiet and authoritative voice, but the way his hands twisted together and his eyes darted round the room made Benny wonder what emotions he was bottling up inside. 'The military will already know me, and they'll know that I like things kept tight.' His small eyes swept round the a.s.sembled company, and only the tall man sitting beside him was anything other than indifferent was he stifling a smile, or grimacing?

'The military will also know,' Bannahilk continued, 'that I share their view that this expedition is not necessarily the best use of our limited resources in these difficult times.: He paused again, this time to glare at Lannic. She met his gaze without flinching, and it was Bannahilk who lowered his eyes first. 'That said, we shall of course give our fullest support to this this fool's errand.' He sat down quickly without sparing Lannic another glance.

'Thank you, a.s.sok,' Lannic said without looking up from the notes on her clip*pak. 'We are grateful for your help. Though I doubt the Exec would think this a "fool errand". It was on his patronage and for the greater glory of all Heletia that we undertake this.' She looked across the desk at him, and Bannahilk shuffled uncomfortably in her stare. 'Nothing that brings us closer to the Exec, nothing that enhances his standing in the eyes of the people or ourselves in his eyes is foolish. Nothing.'

Bannahilk looked embarra.s.sed, but he did not respond. After a short pause, the tall man sitting beside him came to his rescue. 'Fortalexa,' he said as he stood and introduced himself.

Fortalexa was, he said, an electronics and communications expert. He towered over his commanding officer, and managed to get the only laugh of the meeting with an aside about keeping them up to date on the malquatch results (whatever that meant). He seemed to be about Benny's age.

Fortalexa finished up with comments clearly aimed at both Lannic and his commanding officer. 'I think we all share a.s.sok Bannahilk's frustration at not being in the front line to contribute directly to the war, especially the way things are going at the moment. However, we are of course also conscious of the contribution we are able to make on a higher plane to the advancement of archaeology and our understanding of the dramatic arts.'

Benny wondered how he got away with it. A couple of times she saw Bannahilk twist his fingers in frustration or anger, but he said nothing. He even smiled his grat.i.tude to Fortalexa as he sat down again.

The other military personnel Benny a.s.sumed to be the grunts, just along to do the fetching and carrying. Tashman and Krayn were both muscle*bound troopers who could probably kill more efficiently than they could eat. Neither of them seemed as disappointed with this posting as their commander made out. Krayn seemed to be about twice as intelligent as his comrade in arms.