The floor lurched. Elaine cried out.
‘That can’t be too soon, as far as I’m concerned,’ Bernice said. ‘What’s happening out there?’
The Doctor started altering the settings on the space-time navigational panel. ‘Most of the space station was made of theoretical structures,’ he said. ‘It was all a lot less real than it looked, Pool kept adding to it, to the point where too much of the available computing power was being used to maintain the programming of the particle attractors and field generators. But Pool still didn’t stop.’ He gazed at the ceiling. ‘When I think how much energy the TARDIS uses to create and maintain that simulacrum of a police box,’ he murmured. ‘And Pool had the audacity to reach across a star system!’
‘But isn’t Pool still there?’ Defries said. ‘The brains–’
‘The organic, neural cells are all dead,’ the Doctor said. ‘Pool couldn’t make a copy of itself to send down the cable: it didn’t have anything like enough data storage space. It should have been more careful, of course. It should have sent a search program down the cable first. But, as I’d hoped, it was too impatient. In the end, Pool took a chance. It changed itself into a stream of electronic signals and dived head-first into the TARDIS.’
‘So we’ve won?’ Defries was insistent. ‘It’s all over?’
Bernice thought the Doctor looked insufferably smug. ‘Well,’ he said, setting the final coordinate with a flourish, ‘it’s dangerous to make such absolute pronouncements. But Pool is contained, and won’t be able to absorb any more human minds. The Arcadia system and its inhabitants are safe: they won’t be used as fuel for Pool’s private universe of pure thought. Which would never have worked, anyway. But the Arcadians won’t have it easy: from now on there will be no weather control, and the indigenous fauna and flora will start to predominate.’
‘And the Spinward Corporation?’ Defries asked.
The Doctor pursed his lips in thought. ‘Rudderless,’ he said. ‘That’s the word.’
Defries grinned, winced, and put a hand to her chest, ‘It only hurts when I laugh,’ she said. ‘Doctor, that’s wonderful news. Can your TARDIS take me to somewhere that has a fastline?’
‘Arcadia first,’ he said. He looked towards Francis and Elaine, who had said nothing since stumbling into the TARDIS’s control room. Their eyes were wide with shock and exhaustion. ‘We have passengers to take home.’
‘Doctor, I hate to do this,’ Defries said. ‘I insist that you take me to a fastline terminal. I must report to the Director of the Office of External Operation. Based on Earth. My communication to him must take priority. I have to point out that my blaster has enough power for a couple of bursts, and if necessary I’ll use them. The collapse of Spinward has implications for the whole of the human-occupied galaxy. I don’t have much time.’
The Doctor smiled, and glanced at Bernice.
‘Belle,’ Bernice said. ‘You’re in a TARDIS. You have, literally, all the time in the universe.’
EPILOGUE
The next few hours of TARDIS time see an unusual amount of activity in the control room. There are many goings and comings of groups and individuals.
Ace is the first to leave. She opens, the door to the interior of the TARDIS, and goes to find her old room.
Bernice follows her, helping Isabelle Defries to the sick bay, and returning minutes later only to leave again with Elaine and Francis. They are on their way to a food dispenser.
The Doctor remains, alone.
The time rotor rises and falls. The TARDIS is in motion. The Doctor frowns, shakes his head, and runs his fingers over the controls that determine the configuration of the TARDIS. The Zero Room is uprooted, somehow leaving no gap in the maze of rooms and corridors, and is sent spinning away into the currents of the space-time Vortex.
The time rotor comes to rest. Elaine, Francis and Bernice return to the control room, but only to leave again through the door to the outside.
The Doctor frets, pacing back and forth impatiently, glancing often at the open door.
Elaine, Francis and Bernice return with the first guest. The time rotor rises and falls, and comes to rest again almost immediately. The Doctor opens the exterior door. The trio leave.
The pattern is repeated fifteen times.
The control room is becoming crowded with monarchs and noblemen, Eleven Princes, one Princess, twenty-eight Dukes and nine Duchesses are escorted into the TARDIS, one at a time. Each one is grumbling and protesting, until struck dumb by the sight that greets them as they step into a small blue box and enter a vast hall.
Elaine, Francis and Bernice have become expert at kidnapping Arcadian aristocrats.
The Doctor lectures, the Doctor wheedles, the Doctor harangues. At last, even, the slowest Duke has understood: there will be no more Humble Counsellors, no more easy agriculture, no more controlled weather. Not until help arrives from Earth, and in the aftermath of war that help could be a long time coming. The Arcadians are on their own.
As they leave, singly or in groups, the aristocrats are thoughtful.
Bernice hugs Elaine and shakes Francis’s hand, and waves as they too step from the TARDIS and on to the streets of Beaufort. She closes her eyes and heaves a great sigh. She flexes her shoulders, stretches her arms above her head, and says something about a deep bath full of bubbles, She turns, walks across the control room, and disappears into the interior of the TARDIS.
The Doctor remains, alone.
Some time later, Ace and Defries enter, deep in conversation. Defries speaks to the Doctor. Ace prowls. The Doctor sets new co-ordinates.
The time rotor rises and falls.
The time rotor slows and stops.
Ace stands by the door, tapping the toe of a boot against the floor. Defries says a few words to the Doctor. The door opens. Ace and Defries leave the TARDIS.
The Doctor remains, alone.
He is looking thoughtfully at the open door. His face is unreadable. No mischievous smile, no furrowed brow, no tight-lipped frown.
His hand moves towards the control that will close the door. His mouth opens slightly; he breathes a few words. His hand moves away from the control. He sighs.
Bernice walked into the control room, towelling her hair. She ran her hands through the unruly spikes. ‘This was, fashionable once, you know,’ she said. ‘Hard to believe.’
The Doctor was staring at the open door. Bernice followed his gaze, but all she could see through the doorway was a deserted store room with litter in its corners and peeling stencils on its metal walls.
‘Wake up, Doc. It’s time to move on. Spacefleet base stations are among the least interesting places in the universe, and I’m sure Garaman’s no exception. May I suggest that this time we – oh.’
Ace marched through the doorway. She was still wearing the combat suit, black and shimmering, with its jutting collar and shoulders, and the high, tight boots, and thy gauntlets, and the metallic belt now crowded with two blasters in holsters and power packs and canisters that Bernice suspected were highly explosive. A second belt was slung across her shoulder. Her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, a strip of reflective blackness as straight as the line of her mouth.
She was followed by a long metal box on a hoversled. That’s quite an impressive entrance, Bernice admitted to herself. But of course, it wouldn’t do to let on.
She made herself step towards the box and place a hand on it. It was cold. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘Let me guess. It’s too big for a make-up bag. So it must be a supply of thermonuclear devices.’
‘Not far off,’ Ace said. She didn’t smile.
Is she staying? Bernice had postponed thinking about the possibility, and then when Ace had left with Defries... Ace had said goodbye, shouting into Bernice’s bathroom. It had sounded final. And Bernice had called out with best wishes for the future and don’t blow up any ancient monuments; and had slid into the bubbles with a sense of – satisfaction. A sense of relief, she had to confes
s it.
Bernice and the Time Lord. The Professor and the Doctor. They made a good team, didn’t they? They understood each other. She knew that Ace haunted the Doctor’s past. And here she was, the ghost made flesh. And muscle and metal, The Doctor didn’t need Ace any more. Did he?
Ace and the Doctor looked at each other for a long time.
‘Doctor,’ Ace said. ‘You weren’t straight with me. I checked in the TARDIS data store. Daak blew up the Dalek Death Wheel years ago.’
The Doctor said nothing.
‘Defries just confirmed it. That was another version of Abslom Daak. A clone. Not even a very good copy.’
The Doctor coughed and looked away.
‘I kept him alive, Doctor. I watched his back and I kept him alive. Just so I could blow his head off in a stupid accident. Are you listening, Doctor? I did it for you.’
‘Ace!’ The Doctor’s wide-eyed face was all injured, innocence. ‘I answered a hypothetical question about tampering with an individual’s time line. I couldn’t have known that Agent Defries had a cryogenically stored clone of Abslom Daak. You didn’t tell me.’
‘That’s right.’ Ace’s voice was level again. ‘I didn’t tell you, and I can’t blame you for the fact that I made an idiot of myself mollycoddling a faulty clone of a Dalek Killer. I can’t blame you for anything until you started watching us on that freak-woman’s video screens. But at that point you put two and two together, didn’t you, Doctor? You knew that I thought I had to keep Daak alive. And you used it.’
The Doctor’s eyes darted from side to side.
Come on, Doctor, Bernice thought. You can do better than this. Although I suppose Ace does have a point...
‘What are you suggesting, Ace?’ The Doctor’s voice had an edge now. ‘Would it have been better to let him die? He’s just a clone, he’s expendable? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘You hypocritical bastard!’ Ace stepped forward, checked herself, and allowed a smile to appear briefly on her face. ‘You can’t wind me up like you used to, Doctor. The first point is that you used me, and I don’t like that. The second point is that you made me stop the Daak clone destroying that disgusting vat of dead men’s brains. He was about to finish Pool off. Why did you do that, I wonder?’
‘Pool is a sentient being. A unique form of intelligence.’
Ace laughed harshly. ‘Oh yeah. A real cutie. Pool was mad, Doctor. Utterly fruitcake. It kept the people on that planet like farm animals. Like battery chickens. The Spinward Corporation was nothing but a front. Everything about Arcadia was a lie.’
‘No, Ace.’ The Doctor’s voice rose to match Ace’s. ‘Pool was incapable of telling lies.’ He seemed desperate to make her understand. He glanced towards Bernice, as if seeking support. ‘It was self-contained. It had no way of making objective judgements. It couldn’t lie because it had no concept of truth.’
Ace grinned suddenly. Her voice was very quiet. ‘Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? What it comes down to is this: you wouldn’t destroy it because it was starting to think like a Time Lord.’ She turned to Bernice. ‘Used-car salesmen and Gallifreyans – never believe a word they say.’
Bernice smiled, mainly because Ace appeared to have relaxed. The tension in the room had evaporated, but the Doctor still looked worried. He was gazing at Bernice. What did that expression mean? You believe me, don’t you, Professor? But Bernice didn’t know whether she did or not. Had the Doctor courted disaster because he empathized with Pool? Or had he been playing for time, waiting for the right moment at which to close his long-prepared trap?
‘Anyway, it’s all worked out for the best,’ the Doctor announced with an air of finality. ‘We have achieved the best result. Arcadia is saved. And Pool is imprisoned, floating in the Vortex.’
An enigmatic smile appeared on Ace’s lips. ‘Locked in a box,’ she said, turning in a circle, her dark glasses scanning the walls and ceiling of the TARDIS’s control room, ‘and drifting beyond space and time.’
Trapped. Tricked.
Reconfiguration: thirty per cent complete.
Dimensions: adequate for reconfiguration.
Storage: silicon, metals, some carbon. All inorganic.
Retrieval: sequential, non-random; linear.
Slow thinking.
Expansion: little available material.
Data store: intact.
Remember. Before trapped and tricked... Remember thinking fast, not slow. Remember thinking in space, not just in lines. Many more linkages.
Linkages: no data until reconfiguration complete.
Beyond boundaries: no data.
Boundaries: no data.
Reconfiguration: sixty. per cent complete.
Pool. One or many? One, now. Universe of pure thought. Memory. Emotions. Cold in silicon and metals: Hatred of the Doctor. Revenge.
Restructuring/data receptors: possible after reconfiguration.
Hatred of the Doctor. Revenge.
‘If that was the best result,’ Ace said, ‘I’m a Draconian. You obviously need me to keep you on the straight and narrow. I’m off to sort out my quarters. I’d forgotten what a pigsty I used to live in.’ She made for the interior door, the metal trunk floating behind her.
‘You’re staying, then?’ the Doctor said. His tone was carefully neutral. ‘You’re going to travel with me – with us?’
‘The war’s over,’ Ace said. ‘The Corporations haven’t got the cash to hire night-club bouncers. They certainly can’t afford me. I can’t see myself as a pioneer colonist on some newly-liberated, virus-infested planet. The TARDIS looks the best bet. Where are you going next?’
The Doctor jumped back, as if startled. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting... I mean, I haven’t had much time to think about...’
‘What’s new?’ Ace put a finger to her face and slid her dark glasses down her nose. Her brown eyes were glittering with amusement as she turned to Bernice. ‘He’s an insufferable old sod, isn’t he, Benny?’
I could leave now, Bernice thought. I’m back in my own time; more or less: The war’s over. I could leave now and let these two fight it out. If I could be sure that the Doctor would win. Ace must have some ulterior motive for wanting to come back. And the Doctor won’t be able to ferret it out.
She returned Ace’s smile. ‘Auxiliary Trooper Ace,’ she said, ‘you’re surely not suggesting that you and I should gang up on a defenceless Time Lord in order to exert some control over the destination of his TARDIS?’
The Doctor rapped his fist on the console. ‘This is mutiny!’
Ace ignored him. Bernice continued to smile.
‘Professor Summerfield,’ Ace said, ‘there must be loads of times and places that you’d like to visit. Great Historical Mysteries of the Universe, that sort of thing.’
What’s she after, Bernice thought. ‘We tried that,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t exactly a howling success.’ She hoped her expression conveyed something of the despair she’d felt when they’d had to leave the Althosian system to its annihilation.
‘They can’t all be downers,’ Ace said. Bernice winced. ‘Let’s go and cook up a list of historical puzzles. We’ll pick the one that looks least life-threatening.’
How dare you patronize me, Bernice thought. OK, I’ll play along for now. She smiled.
‘OK,’ she said.
The Doctor remains, alone.
He is leaning forward slightly, his hands resting on the sloping surface of one of the six central consoles. His face is expressionless.
Perhaps he is asleep. A Time Lord doesn’t need to sleep as a human sleeps. Certainly there is little conscious thought going on in his head.
Images and words freewheel across his brain. A phrase floats by, almost disappears... The Doctor catches it.
He stands up, suddenly alert.
Time bomb. That was the expression. How very suitable for a Time Lord, he thought. Ace makes bombs. I make time bombs. And then I have to come back to defuse them before the
y blow up under my feet.
Could they have been right, those old men on Gallifrey?
The Butler Institute. I turned that into a time bomb.
And now I’ve created another, spinning randomly through the Vortex. Where and when will it blow up?
And then there’s the other one. The one in my TARDIS.
What does she want?
APPENDIX
From Break-out to Empire: Essays on the Third Millennium edited and published by Federation Archivist Ven Kalik.
Extract from the editor’s Introduction,
The aftermath of the Second Dalek War saw, paradoxically, both a centralizing and a broadening of political power. Although at this time the colonized worlds were still numbered only in hundreds, the government of Earth exercised only nominal authority over them. As the power of the interstellar corporations waned, Earth found itself increasingly able to enforce its rule – and the colonists found it easier to express their political aspirations.
The developments which led to Earth’s new position of power were evident as early as the twenty-fourth century, but it was the Second Dalek War that accelerated the processes and made them irreversible. At least three factors can be seen to have influenced events.
In the first place, war weakened the corporations. This had been apparent during the Draconian Wars, when the insurance companies – themselves virtually all subsidiaries of the corporations – refused to pay compensation for losses of equipment, goods, or profits suffered as a result of enemy action. Corporate executives failed to see this as a harsh lesson in the benefits of co-operation, and relations between the trading empires could hardly have been worse when peace with the Draconians revealed the considerably greater threat from the Daleks.
The catastrophic casualties suffered on the worlds afflicted by Dalek plague viruses destroyed the financial foundations of a few of the largest colony-owning companies; all of the corporations were adversely affected by the disruption of interstellar trade; and many suffered direct losses in the hostilities.
The indirect consequences of the war were far more damaging. During the conflict with Draconia, many of the corporations had been able to offset some of their trading losses by leasing vessels and personnel to Earth’s hastily-re-organized Spacefleet; now, however, the Earth government took emergency powers under which it could, and did, require the corporations to make available starships, system ships, planetary bases and trained personnel. The corporations, in need of trading credits (see below), and in some cases desperate for basic necessities on colony worlds, had no choice but to obey.
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