Shada

by Douglas Adams

  ‘Oh, is that supposed to mean I am an idiot?’ snapped Chris.

  ‘Stop!’ called the Doctor. He turned back to the Professor. ‘Stealing a naughty book from Gallifrey. Hiding away a naughty TARDIS. Cooking up a naughty emergency program. What a naughty little professor you’ve been, Professor Chronotis.’

  ‘None of that matters now, Doctor,’ spluttered the Professor urgently. He lowered his voice gravely. ‘If Skagra has your TARDIS and the book, he can get to Shada!’

  ‘Shada?’ repeated the Doctor. ‘Shada? Why does everybody keep going on about Shada, particularly when nobody has the faintest idea about who and what it is!’

  ‘Hear hear,’ said Chris.

  Clare coughed. Chris bristled. ‘Shada is the lost and forgotten prison of the Time Lords,’ she said.

  Chris snorted. ‘And how could you possibly know that?’

  ‘Because the Professor told me,’ Clare sniped back. ‘The book is the key to Shada.’

  ‘Shada!’ cried the Doctor suddenly, smiting himself on the forehead with considerable force. ‘Shada!’

  ‘Yes, Doctor, the Time Lords’ prison, as the young lady says,’ said the Professor. ‘You’ve probably forgotten about it.’

  ‘I never forget anything!’ cried the Doctor indignantly. ‘I never, never forget—’ He stopped and smote himself again, this time on the back of his head. ‘I forgot Shada. The Time Lords’ prison, locked in a bubble outside the universe. Now why would I have forgotten it?’ He gasped as another thought struck him. ‘Romana mentioned Salyavin.’ He sank into an armchair. ‘Of course! Salyavin was imprisoned in Shada!’

  ‘You can ask me who Salyavin is,’ Chris said smugly without quite looking at Clare.

  Without quite looking at him either, she replied coolly, ‘Oh, he was a great criminal imprisoned centuries ago by the Time Lords for mind crimes.’

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sakes,’ grumbled Chris.

  ‘A great criminal with unique mental powers,’ said the Doctor slowly, staring into the glowing gas fire. ‘Totally unique. He had the capacity to project his mind into other minds, didn’t he, Professor Chronotis?’

  ‘But isn’t that what Skagra’s doing?’ asked Chris.

  ‘Oh no, no, no, no!’ barked the Doctor. ‘Skagra has been doing quite the opposite. With that sphere of his he has the capacity to take minds out of people, but he couldn’t put minds into people. That was Salyavin’s great power. He could put anything he wanted into any mind he wanted. Dominate them completely. That’s why the Time Lords locked him away. The Great Mind Outlaw. And now Skagra wants Salyavin’s mind and the terrifying power within that mind for himself. And that’s why he’s going to Shada!’

  Chris spluttered. ‘Then he is bonkers. He’s planning to move his own mind into every other mind in the universe?’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘It might take thousands of years, millions of years. But his mind would be immortal. It would spread through the universe like a plague.’

  Chris pondered. ‘It’s quite a thought, though, isn’t it? Every mind in the universe working together as a single organism, a single mind…’

  ‘A bonkers mind, according to you,’ snapped Clare.

  ‘I didn’t say I approved,’ Chris snapped back. ‘I just said it’s quite a thought for one to consider!’

  ‘Well I hope one enjoys considering it!’ said Clare. She crossed to the Doctor’s side and said, ‘Doctor, we’ve got to stop Skagra from getting to Shada.’

  Chris flinched. Why was Clare annoyed with him? Why was he annoyed with Clare? And why was Clare so much better at this, whatever it was, than him?

  ‘Yes, Clare,’ said the Doctor. ‘But how? He’s got a head start on us and we don’t even know the way.’

  ‘Then we must follow him,’ said Clare.

  ‘Oh yeah, we’ll follow him,’ mocked Chris. ‘Let’s hail a taxi, “Follow that TARDIS!”’

  ‘Follow him to Shada the same way we followed him here,’ said Clare, not even looking at Chris.

  ‘Of course!’ cried the Doctor. He turned to the Professor. ‘You can follow the space-time trail of my TARDIS! Let’s go!’

  He leapt to his feet, and vaulted over to the brass instrument panel. His hands hovered over the ancient controls, and then he finally coughed and stood back, beckoning the Professor forward. ‘You know this vehicle much better than I do, Professor Chronotis,’ he said. ‘And cross-tracing along a time path is a very sensitive and delicate operation. I wouldn’t like to break anything.’

  The Professor nodded. ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ His wizened old hands flickered over the controls, adjusting a knob here, a lever there.

  Clare leant forward and flicked a switch the Professor had missed. The Doctor didn’t seem to notice but Chris was fuming. Who did Clare think she was?

  ‘And while you’re doing that, Professor Chronotis, I’ll make tea,’ said the Doctor. ‘Come on, Bristol!’

  Chris sighed and followed. Making tea was obviously about the only thing he was any use for around here.

  Chapter 58

  THE DOORS OF the TARDIS opened onto Shada.

  There was no hint of decay, no sense of a place abandoned and forgotten. Existing as it did beyond a time-lock, and therefore in a state of perfect timelessness outside the normal physical laws of the universe, Shada could have been built yesterday, reflected Romana as she stepped from the TARDIS. Equally, she thought, it could have been built tomorrow. That thought made her wince. It was the kind of thing poor old Professor Chronotis used to come out with.

  The huge, red high-vaulted chamber in which the TARDIS had materialised was silent and empty. Romana recognised traces of a long-past Gallifreyan architectural style, much less fussy and ornate than the Capitol she had grown up in. The huge sloping walls were a dark red, with occasional circular panels – similar to those in the TARDIS but much larger – pulsing with fierce crimson light.

  She looked above her. The chamber seemed to stretch up and up, hundreds of metres of empty space. Suspended against one facet of the chamber, way above the heads of herself, the Kraags and Skagra, was a heavy stone block into which had been carved the complex pattern that was the Seal of Rassilon, the same design that adorned the cover of the book still clutched tightly in Skagra’s gloved hands.

  Romana tried to tell herself that this was just a room. A room in a very strange place, admittedly, but only a room. She tried to push down the waves of panic, almost of revulsion, she felt as those long-blocked race memories – if that was what they were – surged and stirred deep inside her mind.

  Skagra, followed as ever by the bobbing sphere, walked slowly into the very centre of the chamber and threw his arms wide in an almost messianic pose.

  ‘Shada!’ he cried.

  The sound of the word echoed and re-echoed around the walls.

  ‘It looks horrid,’ observed Romana, trying very hard to sound unimpressed.

  Skagra wheeled on her, pointing a finger. ‘Built by your race. A prison for the very worst criminals.’

  ‘You should feel quite at home here, then,’ said Romana. She had noted the effect of the Doctor’s often-terrible jokes on Skagra. They made him angry and distracted, and a weakened, distracted enemy was – according to the Doctor’s theory, anyway – better than a strong and focused one. To Romana, it had at first seemed one of those theories of the Doctor’s that would surely lead to getting your head blown off. To be fair, though, it seemed to have served him well after 525 years of space-time travel, so she had been starting to experiment with it.

  ‘Keep her silent,’ ordered Skagra.

  The Kraags moved threateningly closer to Romana.

  Skagra moved to a high red stone wall between two enormous pillars. He slid the book inside his tunic and ran his gloved hands over the wall. ‘Logically, the entrance must be here,’ he said. His hand found a small indented panel in the stone. ‘Yes – here.’

  He pressed his gloved hand on to the panel. Romana hoped against hope
that the builders of Shada had possessed the sense to install a booby trap. Then she remembered the arrogance of the classical Time Lords, even worse than those of her own time, and realised it was impossible they could ever have thought Shada could be threatened in this way, or any other. But still – perhaps, just perhaps…

  But no. Romana knew her people too well. With a grinding, crunching noise, the wall heaved itself up, releasing a rush of long-trapped air from beyond.

  Behind the wall was a long, long hallway, stretching deeper and deeper, more red stone walls and red light-panels. Indentations were marked above various junctions and turnings, Gallifreyan symbols, numbers and letters.

  Right in front of the hallway, immediately before Skagra as the wall slid up, was a large control console with a central circular screen. The instruments on the console were archaic, but they were picked out in gleaming bronze as if they had just been polished. The main panel consisted of a simple-enough keyboard with the seven-hundred and twenty-three letters of the Gallifreyan alphabet in the centre, the thirteen numerical symbols ranged across the top.

  Skagra nodded. ‘The index file. One of the best qualities of the Time Lords is their meticulous record-keeping.’

  He tapped at the keys. The console and the screen remained inert. Without looking round, he gestured to the Kraags. ‘Bring her,’ he said.

  Romana had no choice but to shuffle forward as the Kraags closed in towards her.

  ‘I don’t see how I can help,’ she said.

  Skagra indicated the keyboard. ‘There were no personnel here in Shada. The systems are fully automated. The index file is obviously protected by a bio-morphic shield, which clearly only a Time Lord can operate. You are a Time Lord. You will operate it.’

  ‘I would rather die,’ said Romana.

  Skagra nodded. ‘I only need your bio-morphic information to operate the index file. I can obtain that by removing your hands. Perhaps your eyes. Those pieces would be enough. But if you would prefer to live –’

  He gestured her towards the keyboard.

  Romana considered. It had been easy enough to say she would rather die, but would she? A voice in her head kept saying The Doctor is alive, the Doctor is alive… She couldn’t give up. There might be other chances. Other ways to stop Skagra.

  So Romana ran her fingers lightly over the keys. Again she hoped there would be some catch, some defence mechanism. No. Instantly the circular screen lit up, data screeing across it.

  ‘Find Salyavin,’ ordered Skagra.

  She punched in a request, her fingers shaking slightly – INDEX: SALYAVIN.

  The screen chittered back, automatically scrolling down a long, long list of names. Names that struck horror into Romana’s hearts:

  RUNDGAR – WAR CRIMES

  SEC. 5/JL

  SENTENCE TBA

  CAB. 45, CHAM. S

  SUBJATRIC – MASS MURDER

  SEC. 7/PY

  SENTENCE TBA

  CAB. 43, CHAM. L

  SALYAVIN – MIND CRIMES

  SEC. 245/XR

  SENTENCE TBA

  CAB. 9, CHAM. T

  SCINTILLA – CONSPIRING WITH CARRIONITES

  SEC. 8/HT

  SENTENCE TBA

  CAB. 21, CHAM. T

  ‘There!’ cried Skagra, pointing to the screen. ‘Salyavin! Chamber T, Cabinet 9.’

  He stared past the console and into the long hallway, noting the identifying marks at each junction. Then he grabbed Romana by the arm and pushed her forward. ‘Come!’ he commanded the Kraags.

  Then he paused. ‘No,’ he said slowly. He pointed to one Kraag. ‘You will remain behind and guard the capsule.’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ the Kraag said and stomped back to take up sentry position outside the TARDIS.

  ‘I can’t imagine who you think might possibly turn up,’ said Romana.

  Skagra tightened his grip on her arm. The little tic over his right temple twitched a couple of times. ‘The Doctor is most definitely dead,’ he said.

  ‘But, just in case…’ said Romana, indicating the Kraag at the TARDIS.

  Skagra thrust her forward. ‘Come. It is time for you to meet Salyavin.’

  They began to move down the hallway, Romana first, held tight in Skagra’s grasp, the Kraag Commander and the sphere following.

  ‘A little more history for you, historian,’ said Skagra. ‘Your Gallifreyan ancestors were caught in an interminable ethical dilemma. Could any crime justify the death penalty? Arguments raged back and forth for centuries. In the meantime, the criminals were placed here, outside the universe, outside time itself, suspended until the Time Lords’ great moral debate –’ he scoffed at these words – ‘was resolved.’

  ‘Capital punishment was restored,’ said Romana. ‘I know that.’

  ‘And Shada was deliberately “forgotten”, brushed under the carpet, removed from your history,’ continued Skagra. ‘So the High Council decreed.’

  ‘The High Council?’ Romana frowned. ‘The mental power required to blank something from the minds of generations of Time Lords would be enormous. I certainly don’t think the High Council would be capable of that. Is their involvement confirmed in all those books you stole?’

  ‘No,’ said Skagra. ‘But it happened. Shada was forgotten. By implication, the High Council decreed it.’

  Romana struggled to understand. ‘Are you absolutely sure—’

  ‘Here!’ called Skagra suddenly. They had reached a junction with the letter ‘T’ marked above another thick red stone block.

  ‘Beyond this door, Salyavin,’ said Skagra.

  He pressed his hand against a panel and the block began slowly to slide upwards.

  Chapter 59

  A CHIME LIKE a vesper bell rang through the Professor’s rooms. Chris shot up from the sofa where he’d been sitting next to Clare, studiously ignoring her. ‘What the hell was that?’

  Clare grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him down again. ‘It means we’ve arrived, that’s all.’ Chris noted that the glass-cased clock on the mantelpiece had ceased its upping and downing.

  ‘The young lady is quite right,’ said the Professor, turning agitatedly from the control panel. ‘We’ve arrived in Shada!’

  ‘Oh,’ said Chris. ‘Oh, it’s just I thought it might be a bumpier ride than that. After all, we don’t have the key and it’s locked away in this bubble-thing, outside the universe, apparently. Somehow.’

  The Doctor laughed and patted the Professor’s shoulder. ‘And Professor Chronotis’s TARDIS is even older than mine, yes. But as we were following the space-time trail of my TARDIS we were able to slip through quite easily and undetected. Neat, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Doctor,’ pleaded the Professor, ‘this is all quite fascinating but we really must get on and stop Skagra. He’s already here!’ He started heading for the exit.

  Chris and Clare got up from the sofa simultaneously. ‘Right behind you, Professor,’ said Clare with such gumption that Chris added, ‘Yes, we’ve got to stop him!’ because it sounded quite plucky and he was sick of feeling left out.

  The Doctor whirled to face them. ‘Yes, of course, you two have a vital part to play, you must—’ he began.

  ‘Yes?’ asked Chris and Clare.

  ‘Stay here,’ finished the Doctor.

  Chris and Clare opened their mouths to protest.

  The Doctor waved his arms demonstratively and said ‘Sssh!’ Then he leaned in close to Clare and whispered – Chris thought, slightly oddly – ‘I am not at liberty to explain.’ He then turned to Chris. ‘Ditto,’ he said. Then he whirled away from them to face K-9. ‘Now K-9, you can come along.’

  ‘Master,’ said K-9 happily and trundled towards the door, which the Professor was already holding open with considerable agitation.

  ‘But, K-9,’ added the Doctor, stopping the dog in his tracks, ‘you are not to tangle with any Kraags! Understood?’

  ‘Affirmative, Master,’ said K-9.

  ‘Unless
of course you have to tangle with any Kraags.’

  ‘Hurry, Doctor!’ cried the Professor. He seemed to have lost patience and was already heading through the door. He turned briefly towards Clare. ‘You will look after the old place for me, won’t you, my dear?’ he added.

  ‘Of course,’ said Clare, blinking.

  The Doctor and K-9 followed the Professor through the door and it slammed shut behind them.

  Chris and Clare were left alone. They sat back down on the sofa.

  ‘Well,’ said Chris.

  ‘Well,’ said Clare.

  That having seemed to cover everything, they went back to ignoring one another.

  The wooden door of the Professor’s room was positioned incongruously in the wall of a tall, imposing hallway of red stone. The Professor, his face a picture of concern, was hurrying down the passage. The Doctor tapped him on the shoulder and pointed the other way. ‘Professor Chronotis,’ he whispered, ‘judging by the coordinates on your time-path indicator, I’d say my TARDIS was in this direction.’

  ‘But Skagra will have gone in this direction,’ said the Professor, pointing very definitely down the hallway to make his point. ‘I’m quite sure I heard footsteps,’ he added hurriedly.

  The Doctor nodded. ‘But if we can get to my TARDIS first we can stop Skagra getting it back. He’ll be trapped here. In a prison. Which is rather fitting for such a rotter.’

  ‘Doctor,’ pleaded the Professor, almost hopping up and down, ‘it is imperative we find Skagra before he finds Salyavin!’

  The Doctor held up a hand and started backing down the long hallway in the direction of his TARDIS. ‘Yes, but let’s just exercise a little strategy, shall we?’ he said.

  The Professor sagged. ‘Oh, very well,’ he huffed. ‘But please hurry.’

  Cautiously the Doctor led K-9 and the Professor down the echoing hallway. The Doctor looked about him at the red walls with their glowing circular light-panels. ‘Rather eerie, this state of timelessness,’ he whispered. ‘This architecture suggests the grandeur of the Rassilon era. Almost like stepping back into the past.’

  ‘You are always stepping back into the past, Master,’ whispered K-9.