Doctor Who_ Theatre Of War Part 5

Krayn lifted the lamp from its tripod and held it up as they leaned forward to peer at the inscription. Lannic's shadow was cast across it in an elongated manner, distorted by the angle of the slab. The lamp was the only light source apart from a faint glow from the tunnel mouth up and behind them.

'We need better lighting, really. It looks like one of the Cl.u.s.ter dialects. An old one, too.' Lannic straightened up. 'It's not one I know, I'm afraid. Mean anything to you, Klasvik?'

Klasvik looked pale, even in the subdued light. His voice was quiet and grave: 'I can't see much of it, but what I can see yes. I'm afraid I can read it.'

Krayn turned the light full in Klasvik's face and he blinked. 'My Volanthan is a little rusty, but a loose translation of what I can see would include Those unbelievers who disturb the rest of your temple of dramatic art shall suffer death for their blasphemy. Those unbelievers who disturb the rest of your temple of dramatic art shall suffer death for their blasphemy.'

Source Doc.u.ment 3 Original Text of the Menaxan Tablet and Translation by Leontium Klasvik Library of Curios, Thrastus 3 (ref 2699/E) Original text of the Volanthan engraving on the slab at the entrance the Pentillanian Theatre of Menaxus

Leotium Klasvik's translation (3985).

Great G.o.d Dionysus, father of all thespians, read these words from the humblest of your company: For any desecration of your theatre, you will be avenged. Those unbelievers who disturb the rest of your temple of dramatic art shall suffer death for their blasphemy. Though it take years of empty time, I know you will find, in your Art, the instrument of your revenge, as was ordained.

Death shall come on swift wings to him that touches the tomb of the drama.

Chapter 3.

Ghosts The problem that most students have in studying drama is one of immediacy. In many cases this lack of appreciation of the application and practical worth of the texts disappears when the student is involved in performance. But for some the feeling that the study of ancient drama is irrelevant is not purged.The lucky few discover the true worth of the drama in later life often under the strangest circ.u.mstances and in situations where an interpretation of; say, Hamlet is the last thing on their minds. The moment of revelation is often coupled with the realization that Shakespeare and Osterling wrote not about fictional characters, but about real people in real situations. They were interpreters of life.The Dramatist's Art F. Van der Cleele, 2811 F. Van der Cleele, 2811 Tashman and Cambri were the most concerned by the discovery of the monolith. The archaeologists were more interested in the scientific and historical implications than the alleged curse. Lannic was slightly peeved that her previous expedition had missed it but, given they were now digging into the theatre via a very different route from the initial excavations, that was hardly reprehensible. Bannahilk and Fortalexa took it all in their stride: unless people were actually dying then they were not concerned.

Bernice was more worried than the other archaeologists, although she did not believe in the inscription in the way that Cambri in particular seemed to. At least, she believed it existed: she had seen it. And her expertise told her that it was old, although she also noted slight inconsistencies in the wear on the upstrokes of the lettering and tentatively put that down to meteorological erosion while it was still 'in use' as it were. Her concerns were more to do with the existence of the stone in the first place. The others seemed overjoyed to have found something, Benny was more interested in why it was there at all to be found. The whole thing seemed bizarre. It was melodramatic and, as they were proving by ignoring its words, ineffective.

That was perhaps what really niggled at her. Unless the threat was sustainable, why make it? A deterrent based on fear and superst.i.tion alone would suggest a primitive and impressionable culture completely at odds with the sophisticated and civilized theatre complex they were here to excavate. Even the curses on the ancient Egyptian tombs of the pharoahs had turned out to have a deeper, extraterrestrial meaning as she knew very well since she had just finished excavating the source of it...

Only Gilmanuk appreciated her worries: His explanation was straightforward. The slab was either a prop from some noted production or was purpose*built to be a welcoming curio at the side entrance of the theatre. Bernice didn't like it, but she had to admit that this was a simple and plausible explanation. After all, it was no more pointless or eccentric than posting a sign saying Abandon Hope All You Who Enter Here Abandon Hope All You Who Enter Here above the gates of h.e.l.l. Or writing Police Public Call Box above the enterance to a time and s.p.a.ce machine. above the gates of h.e.l.l. Or writing Police Public Call Box above the enterance to a time and s.p.a.ce machine.

Cambri was drilling away at the tunnel wall while Klasvik aimed the water cannon. She hated every moment of it, she would rather be on the battlefield, where she belonged. She would rather be wading through slime towards the Rippearean front line on Frauton Five than plas.h.i.+ng about in this mud*hole. She was a soldier; combat infantry. She had signed up on her eighteenth birthday (the day before her conscription notice arrived), and had seen action in eleven battles in three campaigns. She was concerned with the recently deceased and the soon*to*be dead, not the long*decayed. She ran her grim hand through her short dark grimy hair and dug the end of the drill viciously into the mudface. She felt it give.

She paused, confused, then pushed again. It was certainly giving, the whole of the centre of the tunnel wall was bowing in slightly as she leant on the drill. She almost turned the drill on, but if there was an opening up ahead then she might fall through into it, and there was no knowing how deep it might be. It could be a small air pocket or it could be a whole creva.s.se.

She turned back to Klasvik, waving for him to stop the water. But her arm froze in mid air.

Klasvik saw Cambri turn and raise her arm. Then she froze, like a statue. What was it now? She was forever muttering and complaining under her breath. He wished she'd come right out and say what was on her mind, however forthright. She could take a lesson or two fro Krayn there.

He stemmed the flow of water to the main hoses. But Cambri still didn't move. Then, suddenly, her arm fell to her side. She was staring past Klasvik, her mouth half open. Then she blinked and shook her head as if to clear it. Klasvik turned and looked behind him up the tunnel. It was empty.

Cambri was still standing looking past him. Klasvik called out to her but she made no sigh of having heard so he climbed down from the cannon and, placing his feet carefully in the slurry, he slithered down to her. 'Well, why have you stopped?'

For a moment she still did not acknowledge him. Then she shook her head again. 'Didn't you see it?'

'What?'

'The figure.'

'What figure?'

'You must have seen it.'

'Seen what?'

At last Cambri turned to look at Klasvik. 'A character drressed in armour. He was standing right behind you.'

'Armour?' Klasvik had a thought. 'Must have been Fortalexa or Bannahilk. I didn't see him. He must have gone back before I looked.' He peered back up the tunnel. He could see now that there was a figure picking its way down the slope towards them through the dimly lit tunnel, one hand on the wall to steady itself. But it looked more like Professor Summerfield than one of the military.

'No. It wasn't either of them. He just disappeared faded away. And anyway, it wasn't that sort of armour.'

Bernice arrived just in time to catch the end of the exchange. She was due to relieve Klasvik. 'Wasn't what sort of armour?' she asked.

'Military combat armour.'

'Oh?' Klasvik was getting bored with this. 'And what sort of armour was it then?'

'It was ceremonial armour. Metal. He had a metal helmet covering the top of his head. He had a breastplate and leggings. I could see as he turned sideways against the lights just before he faded away.'

Klasvik snorted in disbelief, but Bernice was attentive.

Cambri turned to her. 'He also had he was holding ' Her voice tailed away and she stared down at the tunnel floor, her foot making circles in the viscous liquid.

'Yes?' encouraged Bernice. 'He was holding...?'

Cambri looked up. Her eyes held Bernice's for a moment, before they faded into vacancy. 'He was holding a sword.' Then she turned and walked off up the tunnel, splas.h.i.+ng muddy water with each automatic step.

Cambri told her story three times, and still Bernice was the only one to give it any credence. She and Klasvik had followed her back up the tunnel. Cambri had not answered their calls, but had headed straight for the hold. The whole area, now almost devoid of crates, had been converted into an operations room with computer terminals linked through from the main deck and the com*net control centre. Cambri was slumped in one of the chairs when Bernice caught up. She was staring into s.p.a.ce.

The others did believe that Cambri thought she had seen something but they were betting on shadows and tricks of the light. They did not believe that it could be put down simply to an over*active imagination; that that was a failing from which everyone tacitly agreed Cambri not suffer. was a failing from which everyone tacitly agreed Cambri not suffer.

Bernice was not sure exactly what Cambri had seen either, but she was sure it was something more substantial. Her whole demeanour, her transition from frustrated warrior full of pent*up emotion into placid dreamer suggested at the very least a shock. And it took more than shadows and tricks of the light to shock an experienced soldier.

But whatever Cambri had seen, the whole incident was all but forgotten when she recovered enough to mention that the wall at the far end of the tunnel was thin enough to yield when pushed. Lannic was certain that this meant they were about to make progress.

'A breakthrough?' Fortalexa suggested with a smile in his voice. It was lost on Lannic, but Klasvik frowned at the electronics officer's levity.

'More likely a dirty great crevice,' offered Krayn gloomily. He hated to think his work at the tunnel face might have been wasted.

Tashman however found the thought amusing: 'Yeah,' he laughed, 'we'll either have to go home, or you'll have to dig us another tunnel.'

'Only one way to find out,' said Bernice. Lannic nodded, and led the way out to the tunnel. Benny paused in the doorway for a moment and looked back at Cambri.

She was sitting in the chair still, her hands cradling a hot caffedeine solution.

They crowded round the mud wall at the end of the tunnel. They were all there except for Cambri. Fortalexa and Bannahilk stood at the back, deferring to the archaeologists. So did Krayn, but more out of boredom than politeness.

Tashman was setting up the drill on a tripod so that he could inch it forward rather than relying on his weight and the ma.s.s of the drill to do the work: Benny and Lannic were pus.h.i.+ng at the mud to determine the point where the wall was thickest. Gilmanuk was silent, his hand to his mouth. Klasvik offered the two women unsought advice which they mainly ignored. But he kept offering it so as not to have to admit that he knew they were ignoring him.

Eventually Lannic and Bernice agreed on a point about chest*high on the wall and Tashman manhandled the drill into position. The water which cooled the drill*head splashed into the muddy slurry around their feet as Tashman slowly pushed the drill forward in its mountings. It bit into the damp mud, dark tapeworms spiralling from the hole and tearing under their own weight.

Tashman lurched forward suddenly, managing to regain his balance just before the drill*head disappeared completely into the wall. 'We're through,' he said unnecessarily. Everyone crowded in closer as he reversed the spin of the drill and eased it out of the wall. It came free, leaving a perfectly round hole just too small to squeeze a hand through. There was a glimmer of light visible through it.

At once Lannic was squatting before the wall, her eye to the opening, She did not say anything.

Klasvik knelt beside her. 'Can you see anything?'

'Yes, yes,' she replied. 'It is wonderful.' Then she stood aside and Klasvik peered through after her. They all heard his intake of breath.

Benny exchanged looks with Gilmanuk, raising an eyebrow, He nodded, and gestured for her to go next. Eventually Klasvik moved aside, his face giving little away, and Benny bent down and put her eye to the hole.

She was looking out into the huge auditorium of the amphitheatre. It seemed almost as if she was on the stage, the curved rows of steps where the seats had been stretching away and up from her. In fact they were offset from the centre of the theatre, the stage area was below and to the left, out of Benny's line of vision. But what she could see took her breath away. Their vantage point was quite high above the theatre floor, there was a drop, she estimated, of about twenty feet from the wall of mud. Mud seemed to have pushed out into the theatre, probably covering the stage area, but had not filled it. The excavation from this point would be comparatively easy.

And it was light good enough for Benny to make out the view once her eyes had become used to the muddy illumination, but no brighter. It took Benny a moment to realize that the amphitheatre was covered over. An enormous sheet of transparent plastic was stretched across the whole area, supported at intervals by metal posts stuck up through it, from which ropes held the sheeting in place. Lannic's previous expedition must have roofed over the structure to keep the elements out, and against all the odds the makes.h.i.+ft cover had held. Benny could see a thin layer of mud across the top, rain splas.h.i.+ng onto it and running down from the raised centre and off the sides. Where the mud was thinnest the light of the suns shone in, grimy and broken.

Benny was beginning to feel a tightness in her chest and could hear a rus.h.i.+ng in her ears. She realized with a start that she had been holding her breath, and let it out in a low whistle. Then reluctantly she stepped back from the aperture and allowed Gilmanuk to take her place.

They all took a turn at peering through the small hole. Even Tashman seemed moved, managing a grunt as his eyes adjusted to the dim light on the other side of the wall. Fortalexa and Bannahilk were more impressed with the fact that they had bought a day from the time allocated to tunnelling into the theatre and excavating it, but they were also staggered by the size of the structure.

Only Lannic seemed unmoved. She had after all seen it all before. And in contrast to the others, she was annoyed that they had wasted time tunnelling through the mud when it now appeared they could have walked round and cut a hole in the plastic sheeting. The only reason s was not blaming the others for this oversight seemed to be that it had never occurred to her either that the flimsy covering could have withstood the battering from the rain and the wind.

Bannahilk went back to get ropes and grappling hooks so they could get down to the theatre floor, Fortalexa went with him to check on Cambri and the com*net. Tashman drilled a patchwork of holes through the thin wall, and Krayn knocked the mud from between them with a sledge*hammer. Before long the opening was wide enough to squeeze through. The only obstacle remaining was the drop into the theatre.

'Once we're down there we can rig something up,' Tashman offered with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. 'Maybe use some of the mud from the stage and build steps up to the tunnel.'

'Not a bad idea,' Lannic leant out, holding on to the edge of the wall to balance herself. 'It looks pretty solid. We can probably cut out chunks with a low*intensity burst from a disruptor.'

'How did the mud get there?' Benny was concerned at once with the archaeological practicalities. 'I mean, why just the stage area?'

'There's probably a skene,' Gilmanuk was thinking aloud.

'There is.' Lannic of course had seen it. 'The central opening is fairly large.'

'Then the mud must have seeped in through there. More mud kept pus.h.i.+ng through as your previous diggings filled in but the mud at the front dried out a bit and set, blocking the doorway.'

Benny nodded. It was a plausible explanation. The similar theatres she had studied on the Braxiatel disk had a flat wall across the back of the stage area a skene (p.r.o.nounced skaynay, apparently) with doors in it. Typically there were three doors. They were used in production as entrances and exits. She knew Gilmanuk had a theory that the design of the skene in any particular theatre often influenced the drama written for it. The ancient Pranchens of Golrargos had concerned themselves with plays centred round different households; each door in the skene, Gilmanuk was certain, representing one of the houses. Benny could well imagine the dust, drifting through the uncovered doorways, then turning to slurry and mud as the rain started; drying under the heat of the sun as the plastic covers kept the interior of the theatre dry. Slowly silting up like the mouth of a river.

Gilmanuk and Klasvik were pressing Lannic for information about the skene, despite having seen the simularities shot on the previous expedition. There was no subst.i.tute for actual, physical experience and first impressions.

Bannahilk was soon back. He had ropes wound over his shoulder and was carrying two toughened plastic grappling hooks. He and Krayn quickly attached the ropes to the hooks and dug the hooks into the floor of the tunnel, far enough back from the edge to prevent it crumbling under the weight. Krayn hammered them into the packed mud and threw the ropes out of the tunnel mouth. Benny peered over and watched them snake down, jolting as they reached the end of their play and jumping back upwards slightly before slapping slowly against the uneven walls of the mud bank.

Almost as soon as the ropes were still, Lannic wiped her hands down the front of her coverall, grasped the nearest rope and swung herself out and down. She abseiled easily the twenty feet to the muddy floor, slipping slightly as she landed. She did not look back, but headed off to inspect the stage area.

Tashman shrugged and pushed his way through the others to the tunnel mouth. He grabbed the same rope as Lannic had used and lowered himself after her.

Benny chose the other one and leapt out into the auditorium. She reached the bottom with no applause, her hands a little sore from her over*enthusiastic speed down the rope.

Lannic was examining the base of the huge pile of mud covering the stage. It reached up almost to the plastic ceiling, like a damp mountain. Tashman was nowhere to be seen. Benny wandered over to join Lannic.

'Is there any damage?'

'Can't really tell yet. There doesn't seem to be. With luck the seepage was relatively slow and the weight was applied over a period of time.' Lannic stood and moved round to examine another area. 'If this lot came through too quickly, then at the very least the floor will have cracked.'

Krayn had joined them. He ran his hand down the side of the mud closest to the tunnel, then glanced back up the tunnel opening. Benny followed his gaze, just in time to see Klasvik make his way nervously down the rope. Gilmanuk was just picking himself up from a slippery arrival at floor level. She turned back to Krayn. 'What do you reckon?'

He shrugged. 'Tashman's the engineer. But I think we could take slices out of the side, cutting the base of each slice higher than the previous one. They'd make steps when they fell. Not ideal several short climbs rather than one big one. The real problem will be getting the equipment down here to being with.' He was looking into the depths of the dim theatre, trying to locate Tashman. His eyes swept across the tiers of the auditorium in front of them.

'Equipment?' Benny was confused. 'Surely a hand disiuptor will cut through this like b.u.t.ter.'

'Like what?'

'Well, quite easily.'

'Yes, but that's no good. The beam's so tight that the mud will just stay in position with a thin slice through it. Like an upright pillar. We need to loosen the base so it will fall. I think the water cannon would do a good job. We can direct it reasonably accurately and wash away the foundations of each "pillar". We could cut chunks out with a disruptor, but we'd have to be sure the angle was right or the whole thing could fall in the wrong place.'

Benny agreed. 'That could screw things up good and proper.'

Krayn nodded, still looking for Tashman. 'Where the h.e.l.l is he?'

Benny looked too, but she could hardly see to the back of the theatre where she had last seen him heading. She was about to suggest they go and look when they heard him call out.

Fortalexa left Cambri in the hold. He guessed she was still coming to terms with her hallucination; with the fact that the crazy curse had got to her. She failed to respond to a couple of quips, so he was happy to leave her to it. Especially as he was in a hurry. He had to find Bannahilk, His mind was still on what it had found in the com*net when he reached the end of the tunnel without having seen any of the others. He lowered himself down one of the ropes almost on instinct.

Fortalexa looked round. Everyone was running, making then way hurriedly up the steps of the area facing the stage, where the audience had sat. It occurred to him that it was not the landing at the base of the rope that had jolted him out of his reverie, but a sound. A man's voice calling out urgently. He followed the others.

When he caught up with them in fact he overtook Gilmanuk and Klasvik on the way they were gathered round Tashman. Tashman's eyes were wider than usual, and not just from the dim light. He was pointing at an area of the stone wall at the back of the theatre.

'Well, there's nothing there now.' Fortalexa noticed that Professor Summerfield seemed less out of breath even than he was. She must be very fit, especially without the military background as an excuse. She noticed him as she turned back to Tashman. 'I see the army got here at last, she offered sarcastically. 'Were you waiting for an invitation?'

'We aim to please.' He could see from her eyes that the pun was not lost on her. But she ignored it and addressed Tashman instead: 'Tell us again.' Gilmanuk and Klasvik had joined them now and they all listened attentively.

Tashman sighed and looked round them. 'Look, I didn't believe her any more than you lot did.'

'Who?' asked Lannic.