Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 27

'We are all dwellers in eternity with but a short time to separate our beginning from our ending our light gleams an instant, then is gone. All is come to naught.'

The rust had spread across the robot's torso. It was a brown stain across the chest and down one leg. As Ace watched, the leg gave way under the weight of the robot and it collapsed sideways, smas.h.i.+ng to the floor.

'Now is the very witching time. Now churchyards yaws and Time itself breathes out contagion to the world. Our act is done, our roles fulfilled. The script is ended and our useful lives have come to this a handful of sand blows crazy by the winds and whims of Time.'

As Jorvik continued speaking, one robot after another keeled over and fell around him. The others were swaying ever more violently. Only Jorvik stood calm and straight, his arms stretched wide as the figures round him toppled over with age and began to decay.

The robot which had fallen near Ace had all but rusted away. The main body was eroded completely, exposing the decaying mechanisms within. Another robot collapsed forwards off the front of the stage, landing in a heap at Ace's feet. Its eyes stared into hers. She watched as the red glow within paled and faded, as the skull*like metal face browned and lost its sheen. A ball of rust rolled down its face. Another welled up in the eye and then slowly made its way down, an open tear in the metal in its path. It paused for a moment half*way, then cried its way down the lower half of the torn cheek.

'Only through time is Tiime conquered,' said Jorvik, his voice almost a snarl now as the last of the figures round him fell to its knees, then pitched forward, its face cracking on the concrete floor of the stage. Jorvik pushed at the broken head with his foot and it detached from the body and rolled across the stage. It paused for a moment at the edge, then it continued over and down. It gathered momentum as it fell and slammed into the floor below with a metallic crunch that echoed round the theatre. The head shattered on impact, leaving a rusty star*shaped stain at the point where it landed.

Jorvik looked round at the broken remains of the Samrong robots and sighed. 'I will show you death in an hourgla.s.s,' he whispered.

For a while there was silence. Then the cloaked figure stepped over the wreckage in front of him and stood on the very edge of the stage. The spotlight was still full on him as he threw aside his hat and pulled off his cloak. The slight figure of Jorvik, revealed for the first time, smiled at his twin in the front row of the auditorium. He raised the umbrella that had appeared from under the cloak, signalling his appreciation to the audience for their indulgence, He held it by the end so that the question mark of the handle was silhouetted against the back wall of the banqueting hall set.

In the front row the Doctor leapt to his feet. 'Bravo!' he shouted, and his alter ego on the stage smiled in thanks. The Doctor in the front row began to clap. After a moment Ace joined in, and then the theatre erupted in a storm of applause. The spotlight faded and a red glow set in for a few seconds on the stage. Then it too faded, like mist in the hot sun.

'I suppose you think that's terribly funny or at least terribly clever,' Ace said to the Doctor when the applause eventually died down enough for him to hear her.

'Now you come to mention it, I suppose it is,' he replied with a grin. 'It was also terribly well written, especially given the tight deadline.'

'Who did you nick it from?'

'Nick it? I am not a plagiarist, Ace.' The Doctor looked annoyed for the briefest of moments. Then he smiled. 'But I did take the opportunity to pay homage to several great poets and playwrights.'

Only the Exec had not heard Jorvik's words. His teeth were chattering with fear and he gripped Lannic's hand tightly in his own. His head began to shake uncontrollably and he allowed Lannic to lead him to the back of the box and down the steps to the corridor beyond. His bodyguards, disruptors already drawn, were a step behind. He could still hear Jorvik's words in the theatre behind him as he almost ran towards the green room, dragging Lannic with him. He was barely aware of Marlock watching them dash along the corridor making no move to follow them, shaking his head as he answered his communicator.

'They wage war on me now through the theatre,' he gasped to Lannic as they ran. 'My enemies are even here, all around me. I can trust no one.'

'Trust me me,' she said and he slowed for a moment, squeezed her hand and attempted a smile.

When they reached the green room, the doors opened for them, The guards inside the door saluted as the Exec ran in. Lannic close behind. The bodyguards were already taking up position behind the exec's desk as he tried to get his breath back.

'Leave me,' he said as soon as he could speak.

n.o.body moved.

'You mean ' Lannic started to ask.

'No, not you.' He waved his arms wildly. 'The rest of you all of you leave me. Leave me alone,' he stamped. The guards looked round, confused. Then one of the door guards cautiously left the room. The other one followed. The bodyguards waited slightly longer, but the Exec's glare and a further shout of rage was enough to send them from the room. The Exec followed them to the doors, then slammed them shut behind the last soldier. He slid the heavy bolts into place, turned and leaned against the doors. Slowly he slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

He was aware that Lannic was standing in front of him. She knelt down, and as he started to weep she cradled his head in her hands and ran her fingers through his hair. His whole body shook as the sobs took hold of him.

The equipment was straightforward, and Braxiatel had written out the routing codes and a brief set of instructions on the sheet of paper the Doctor had given her. Benny sent the coded phrase to him first Tell pa.s.senger Irving Braxiatel, Tell pa.s.senger Irving Braxiatel, she sent to the Rippearean flags.h.i.+p, she sent to the Rippearean flags.h.i.+p, The good soldiers have finished their banquet. The good soldiers have finished their banquet. She laughed out loud when the confirm acknowledgement came back from the satellite stationed above Heletia. It included the name of the s.h.i.+p she had addressed with its transponder ident. Braxiatel had not told her that the flags.h.i.+p was called Jorvik. She laughed out loud when the confirm acknowledgement came back from the satellite stationed above Heletia. It included the name of the s.h.i.+p she had addressed with its transponder ident. Braxiatel had not told her that the flags.h.i.+p was called Jorvik.

The next process was less simple. Braxiatel's instructions were clear, but the sequence was complicated. She put the message on the net first, then set about the deactivation protocols. She knew the message would take a while to reach the Heletian fleet.

Benny managed to program in the deactivate sequences without a hitch. She rubbed her hands in self*congratulation and stepped over the unconscious body of the young technician. She paused to bend down and give him a cheery slap on the cheek, then set off across the room with a self*satisfied spring in her step.

But before she reached the door, it opened anyway.

'Ah. I think perhaps we might have found a little fault in our communications systems.'

Marlock's face split into what he might have described ns a smile. His two bodyguards stepped past him. One look Benny by the arms and twisted them up behind her back, the other jabbed his disruptor into her ribs. Marlock stared into Benny's face from what seemed like only an inch away.

'A simple retraction message should undo your handiwork, and if you were working in concert with the Rippeareans we may well be able to arrange a small surprise for whoever is hoping to take our surrender.' He ran a finger down Benny's cheek and across her lower lip. 'And then we shall find something exquisite exquisite to do with you, my dear.' to do with you, my dear.'

Source Doc.u.ment 18 Extract from a personal letter from Irving Braxiatel to the Doctor Braxiatel Collection not catalogued But if you must interfere, and I know from experience that you must, then I hope you will consider my suggestions and advice. I am sure we are agreed about the ends, only the means as ever may be in dispute.

Despite our past differences, however, I hope you will understand my motives now even if you cannot condone the means. If it will help you rest easier, they were and probably still are the only means available to me.

If all goes well, we may meet again shortly. But if you choose not to wait, I will understand.

Good luck, my friend. May Time be good to you, and you to it.

Chapter 18.

Endgame Acting is of course by no means confined to the theatre. Many people spend their entire lives acting for whatever reason. For some the act is a charade to hide innate diffidence. For some it is to impress and win over others. But whatever the reason, acting is a means to an end rather than an end in itself.When presented with out*of*character behaviour ask not What is being presented? What is being presented? but rather but rather What is being hidden? What is being hidden?Verbal Non*Communication Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 The program which Benny had run in the communication suite sent a single pulse to the nearest kill*sat in the Alterberg Gap. The kill*sats were in a pyramid formation, fanning out in three dimensions from a single point. The single kill*sat at the point was the closest to Heletia, and it was the one to which Benny's message was directed. The pulse pa.s.sed the satellite three instructions.

The first instruction was to deactivate itself. Which it did, after checking the origin triangulation of the carrier message.

The second instruction was to relay the same instruction set, pulsing it out at three distinct and specified angles. It did this too, and the three killer satellites at those angles received and acted upon the same program. Because of the precise formation of the thousands of kill*sets defending the Gap, the program rippled through them without a hitch, at the speed of light, At the edges one or more of the signals sped off into s.p.a.ce since there was no satellite positioned to accept it.

The third instruction was the simplest of all. It was to ignore all further instructions.

The reasoning behind the complex instruction set rather than a simpler pulse sent to each satellite in turn was twofold. The first reason was that once the formation was a.n.a.lyzed and the angular relations.h.i.+ps calculated, the program itself was fairly simple and needed only to be sent once. The second was that the Heletians were less likely to detect a single pulse from their own communications suite than a stream of thousands.

In fact the pulse did go undetected. The Heletian war room was in an uproar as the operators tried to decide whether the surrender order was genuine.

Then the first kill*sat discontinued its function and went off line.

'So why the grand finale?' Ace asked. The Doctor was picking his way through the debris which littered the stage. The set had faded and gone when Jorvik had disappeared. So, mercifully, had the bodies of the good soldiers. But the Samrong robots had already entered the real world, and their remains were now dissolving into dust.

'The insubstantial pageant faded,' muttered the Doctor. 'Still, it made an impression quite spectacular.' He told her. The theatre was deserted apart from the two of them. The people who had stayed to the end had quickly dispersed. 'The stage direction were very tricky to write. Didn't quite get it right, I think that's why those bits and pieces are still here.' He frowned, deep in thought. 'There must be a way, a form of words. Fortalexa's fictional double faded away when his work was done. Oh well,' he brightened, 'can't be expected to get everything right first time, can we?'

'But why bother? Why wait till the end before changing the script? Why let the robots in at all you could have ended the play early and avoided all this.' Ace waved her arm round at the metal limbs and plastic components which were rotting around them.

'As I said, it made an impression.' The Doctor stopped his inspection of the mess strewn over the stage. 'Braxiatel's plan was to create a diversion. He wanted the Heletian court in an uproar, totally disorientated and chaotic. Then the Rippearean forces could take advantage of the confusion and press home their attack.'

'That was five years ago.'

'True, they were far stronger then. And in his letter he gave me an alternative. He still needed the diversion, but now Braxiatel has an agent planted here. An agent who can deactivate the minefield which forms the main obstacle between the Rippearean fleet and Heletia.' He resumed his inspection of the remains, calling back over his shoulder, 'So I subst.i.tuted my ending for Braxiatel's rewrite of Osterling's. Rather than a ma.s.sacre and a force of killer robots rampaging round the place, I managed a diversion which cost just a few bruises and the odd broken arm.'

'It also caused that poor guard Marlock left us to need a clean pair of trousers, I should think.'

The Doctor laughed. 'Dramatic licence.'

'So who is Braxiatel's agent? Anyone we know?'

'Yes Benny. Let's see how she's doing, shall we?'

Marlock had taken a length of electrical cable from a store cupboard in the corner of the room. Benny watched as he cut across the end of it and stripped back several centimetres of plastic insulation. He started to splay out the copper wire inside, wrapping the other end of the cable around his hand.

'Hold her still,' Marlock told the bodyguard behind Benny. 'Let's see how strong some of these antique fibres really are, shall we? Denim, for example, has a reputation which could usefully be put to the test don't you think?'

Benny tried to pull away, but the guard had her held tight. The other guard stepped aside, but he kept his disruptor levelled at Benny's stomach.

Marlock nodded his approval. 'If she flinches, shoot her in the arm.' He swung the cable to and fro. Benny watched its regular motion, transfixed, trying to empty her mind of what was to follow. 'Just a short burst.' He raised the cable above his head. 'I want her to retain consciousness for as long as possible.

Marlock's bleeper sounded as his hand reached its apogee. He lowered the cable. 'Always when you're having fun,' he observedwith a smile and flicked open a channel on his communicator. 'Yes, what is it now?'

The answer was a woman's voice. It was far from calm. 'Sir the kill*sats in the Gap are deactivating.'

'What? How?'

I don't know, sir there's no signal from this end. They're just off*lining one after another.'

'Check it,' Marlock snarled to the guard holding the gun. He gave a short nod and started to inspect the communications equipment where Benny had been sitting.

'Well?'

The guard shook his head. 'Nothing, sir no pulse sending from this end. The source must be elsewhere.'

'They wouldn't acknowledge a signal from anyone other than us,' Marlock spoke into his communicator again. 'What are the Rippeareans doing?'

'Nothing, sir,' the tinny voice responded. 'They're still on station the other side of the field.'

'Good. They can't know what's happening the satellites are pa.s.sive, so they won't know that they've shut down. Tell me if there's any movement.' He turned off the communicator and stared at Benny. 'You sent the surrender signal,' he said after a while. 'But although you are not deactivating the mines, I think you know who is.'

The frayed cable swayed in front of Benny's face for a moment. She swallowed. This would take very careful timing and pretty good acting on her part.

'Very well,' said Marlock with a sigh. He raised the cable again.

This time Benny stopped him as the cable was about to come flailing down at her. 'The Exec,' she said, shouted probably, she could not tell. 'He was panicked by the performance, It was the Exec who sent me to call the surrender, it must be his orders that are deactivating the satellites too.' She hoped the fear had sounded genuine it should have done, because it was.

Marlock paused. His good eye narrowed as he watched Benny. She could almost see the thought process inside his head.

After what seemed like forever, Marlock dropped the cable. 'Bring her,' he said to the guard holding her. 'It's time I sorted out this mess.'

The outermost line of kill*sats in the Gap deactivated themselves and threw out a program message pulse into the s.p.a.ce ahead of them. There were no satellites there to receive it.

But the mine destroyer Wild Fire Wild Fire was positioned to receive it from two different satellites in the link. The signals arrived within a second of each other. The second in effect confirmed that the Gap was safe, and the was positioned to receive it from two different satellites in the link. The signals arrived within a second of each other. The second in effect confirmed that the Gap was safe, and the Wild Fire Wild Fire began to despatch handler probes to clear a path through, dragging the kill*sats aside so gently that if their motion sensors were still on*line they would not detect it and detonate. began to despatch handler probes to clear a path through, dragging the kill*sats aside so gently that if their motion sensors were still on*line they would not detect it and detonate.

The Wild Fire Wild Fire also sent a coded signal to the flags.h.i.+p also sent a coded signal to the flags.h.i.+p Jorvik Jorvik: 'Final Curtain.'

When Marlock arrived at the green room with his two bodyguards and his prisoner, he found the doors closed and bolted against him. The two doorguards and even the Exec's two bodyguards were standing outside, evidently somewhat confused. They recounted the events which had left them locked outside, and Marlock sent them back to the barracks to await his wrath.

'It seems you may be telling the truth,' he told Benny, 'We shall soon see.' He hammered on the doors with his fist and shouted, 'Exec open up. It's me, Marlock. The invasion is defeated and we are safe. You You are safe. Do you hear me? Open the doors!' are safe. Do you hear me? Open the doors!'

They waited but there was no response from inside.

'I'll watch her.' Marlock drew his disruptor and motioned for the guard holding Benny to release her. She flexed her shoulders, they were still. Marlock kept her covered with his gun. To his two bodyguards he said, 'Get those doors open. Now.'

The Exec's sobs had subsided and he was beginning to recover. Lannic was still holdin his head, still had her hands tangled in his greasy hair.

'You don't know how I've waited for this moment,' she said. 'How I dreamed of having some time alone with you.'

He looked up at her his face smeared with the stains of tears. 'You wish to be my consort.' It was not a queston. He ran his hands down her back, feeling the uneven mesh of the gauze of her blouse.

'I was married once,' she said Her hands had stopped their tugging and she was staring into empty s.p.a.ce. 'It was long ago.'

The Exec's hands had reached her waist. The adrenalin of panic began to give way to other stimulation and emotion as he followed the curve of her body and squeezed her thigh.

But Lannic seemed not to notice. 'It was sunny a lovely sunny day. I was in the kitchen when I heard him scream. Funny how you remember, how immediate it still seems. It was the day after we were sure, the day we were going to celebrate.' Her voice cracked slightly. Her eyes were still unfocused, staing into the past. 'I ran out, but by the time I got there ' She blinked suddenly and her head lolled forward. Then she recovered herself and continued, '... got there it was too late.'

At last she turned and looked at the Exec. He could almost feel the intensity of the gaze, and his hand tightened on her thigh, rubbing downwards, feeling for an edge of her skirt. She still gave no sign of having noticed. 'They had him strung up in the yard. I didn't hear them arrive, didn't hear his first screams he must have screamed more than once.' A tear welled up in her eye and rolled down her cheek. She made no move to wipe it away, her hands were still tangled in the Exec's hair. 'I couldn't run couldn't leave him. He was still alive. Just.'

Her body began to shake with inner sobs, her voice was distorted with emotion and her head swayed slowly from side to side. 'I didn't try to stop them, how could I? I just kept looking at him, hanging there in the doorway, burned and bleeding. And they made sure he could see me could see what they did. They weren't fit to be called men, let alone soldiers. They left me there, in the yard, crying by his dead body. They wouldn't cut him down even when he was dead.' Her voice faded away. She seemed calmer now, her fingers tying themselves into his hair again.

'The Rippeareans,' murmured the Exec. 'We'll make them pay.' His hand had felt its way into the split in her skirt. Now it rubbed up her right thigh. 'What's this?' He had felt a strip of material, thought it to be a garter, but it held a pouch strapped to her leg.

Lannic's hand closed on the Exec's, drew it away, and pulled the skirt aside. Her other hand was still in the Exec's hair and it pulled savagely, yanking his head up so that he was forced to look into her face. She was shaking her head, her eyes wide and her jaw set. 'Not Rippeareans,' she said, and her voice had become hard and determined.

Startled, the Exec pulled his head free. He flattened himself against the back of the doors, watching in horrified fascination as Lannic unclipped the flap over the top of the pouch at her leg. He gave a squeal of panic as she drew out a small percussion pistol.