The Coming of the Teraphiles

by Michael Moorcock

  Captain N'hn continued to watch the spectacle. 'These

  aren't the big wind. These are like breezes compared to a

  hurricane. A little jig rather than the full ballet. But they're

  still spectacular. They represent the forces pushing us while

  black holes are the forces pulling us within our own galaxy.'

  'And this is important, why exactly?'

  The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair as he considered

  this. 'There are people who can use that energy to travel at

  millions of miles an hour in vessels which can dodge in and

  out of the different planes, moving between the near-infinite

  worlds of the multiverse and somehow navigating in order

  to take a kind of shortcut. Really it's mostly an astonishing

  skill at negotiating the gravitational pull from universes

  or galaxies within those universes that aren't visible to us.

  They've been moving away from the centre of our galaxies

  for at least two and a half billion light years.'

  'More than I can take in,' said Amy. 'Why are they dancing

  like that?'

  'That's just what it looks like to us. Some sort of

  reconfiguration where most of the essential elements can't be

  seen. We'd need special instruments to detect all the different

  gravities in play. Beautiful, isn't it?'

  'And dangerous,' murmured the ship's captain.

  'Something's fouling it up, setting things off too soon. It's

  powerful. That's just a squall. But enough to tear us apart

  i f - '

  He cursed as the ship suddenly shifted and spun, her

  gravity simulators working overtime, whining and throbbing

  as they attempted to keep her steady. Elsewhere the crew

  were yelling, busy with the jobs they had been trained for.

  ' — if they get a good grip on us.' He headed off towards

  his control room, galloping as fast as he dared, the sound of

  his hoofs growing fainter until he disappeared.

  'There's a dark wind blowing through all the multiverse we

  know and our destinies are determined by its contrary flow. Joli

  grand, joli chant, joli trista, funning you, allez vous, etherista...'

  The Doctor had dropped his voice again and seemed

  to be quoting someone. His tapping feet sounded like the

  distant, complex drumming of the Arcturan Cyclops as they

  galloped and trotted and cavorted in all their half-human

  glory, celebrating the great gathering which came every ten

  years. He continued to mumble, almost as if the words were

  an equation he had memorised. He looked up suddenly.

  A moment later they were floating in free fall and could

  hear the captain yelling orders to his men. Struggling to keep

  their balance, they were dragged this way and that. Then the

  ship's gravity was restored. But Amy already had some new

  bruises, and she guessed she wasn't the only one.

  Behind her now the Doctor was ruefully rubbing his shin.

  'Hadn't expected that. Sorry.'

  'Wasn't your fault,' she said. 'Or was it?'

  He laughed at this.

  'Wasn't your fault. Or was it?'

  Why was she repeating herself?

  She was back with the Doctor and Captain N'hn, looking

  out of the observation port. She opened her mouth to speak.

  Then, once more, she was floating in free fall. She was on

  her own, watching the star clusters begin their dance again /

  rubbing her bruised leg / talking to the Doctor / boarding the

  ship / flirting with Bingo / watching an arrow impale itself in

  the backside of a gaudily dressed little man she'd never seen

  before / leaving the TARDIS on Peers™ / practising in the

  grounds of the big country house...

  It was too much to take in. She passed out. Red and white

  candy stripes twirled away in a familiar pythonoid pattern.

  And her body was moving slowly in an arc which mirrored

  the greater arc of the ship.

  She felt horribly sick

  she was about to throw up...

  something flung her against

  yielding metal and she bounced

  there over and over again

  she fell down a long arc of fierce

  rainbow colours

  advanced towards spiralling

  galaxies...

  Until she was following the Doctor along a rocking

  gangway where strange muted golds and fiery greens

  attacked her, stinging her wherever they struck.

  She realised she was experiencing her first real space-time

  storm. The ship had been caught by precisely those forces she

  had witnessed outside. They were pushing instead of pulling.

  Anti-gravity? Anti-something... She had thought that by now

  they would be using the pull of the black hole to rendezvous

  with their destination. Instead, something else was pushing

  them backwards, and she was again trying to visualise a

  cosmology so complex, so vast that their entire galaxy might

  be the merest speck, as invisible to others as a microbe was to

  her. There was no guessing the dimensions of the multiverse

  and no point in trying because size had no meaning to her.

  She wondered if it had any meaning to anyone. Everything

  was relative, after all. She found this enormously funny but

  hated the sound of her own laughter. She wanted to go home.

  How she longed, longed to be home where some things were

  more important than others. Where...

  There were tears on her face and she had her head against

  the Doctor's shoulder, but she couldn't remember her own

  name as she watched scarlet words in an unknown language

  rush from her head and mingle with her long red-gold hair

  then disappear into a black funnel. 'Doctor?'

  'It's all right.' His voice was warm. 'Just a minor storm.

  Those awful time winds...'

  Time winds? Time tornadoes, it feels like.'

  'That's closer to the truth than you know, Dorothy.' He

  drew a long, deep breath. 'Or, at least, I think it is.'

  'I'm really trying very hard not to kill anyone,' she heard

  herself saying.

  'Of course you are,' he said comfortingly.

  From somewhere came the sound of singing. She thought

  at first she could hear some of the crew but then she realised

  the voices were too light. Too light? What was going on in

  her head?

  'Hello, boys.' That was the Doctor. He was setting her

  gently into her bunk, looking at a beautiful pale blue globe

  containing three handsome young men whose eyes smiled

  into hers as they rested, apparently on currents of thin air.

  'Well spin yer there, capano, never fear, for we're the

  mighty Bubbly Boys, no system can confine us. Or even wine

  and dine us. So ask us what and ask us why, don't ask us

  who in case we die. Toot too a roo. How's the future looking

  to you, cousin? Don't worry, we'll be there to lend a hand

  when the time comes:

  We're Bubbly Boys from Ketchup Cove

  Bright blue we are and purple too and brave

  enough to face the kids from Kettle Cave.

  Yaki do, yaki doan, yaki dye-o

  Yaki fight, yaki tight, yaki spy-o

  Song like that sing for cinco de mayo...

  Hoo la la, magic jar w
onder why-o...

  She became horribly self-conscious. Her stomach churned

  and she heard herself, a little Scottish girl who had never lost

  her accent, asking awkwardly, 'Who did you say you were?

  I don't think we've been formally introduced. Or informally

  either, for that matter.'

  She heard the Doctor's voice. 'Don't worry. They're on

  our side. Probably. Blood's thicker than any wild tide. Al,

  Tom and Bob Bubbly. Captain Abberley's crew. Three of the

  Famous Chaos Engineers. They know the Second Aether

  better than anyone.'

  She turned her head. They had all gone. The ship's

  movement seemed slow and she was certainly steady. The

  storm was over. Amy got out of her bunk.

  She found the Doctor in the dormitory he was sharing

  with another twenty or thirty men. He was leafing through

  star charts, making notes on a V-pad, and looked up when

  she came in. 'You OK now? I'd have warned you if I'd had

  any sense that was going to catch us. Those winds shouldn't

  have occurred anywhere near here. It's just plain wrong. Did

  you meet the Bubbly Boys? I asked them to keep an eye on

  you.'

  She nodded.

  'What are you doing, Doctor? Puzzles?'

  'I wish. I'm too easily bored. Why is it, Amy Pond, that

  we're travelling at twice the speed of Earthlight and I feel like

  we're limping along at a snail's pace? Was that Mrs B-C out

  there? Before the storm caught us?'

  'Yes. I think I was wrong about that theory of mine. She'd

  never deliberately have brought this on herself. What do you

  think?' It didn't seem strange to be talking normally again.

  Somehow the storm had refreshed her, like a long sleep.

  'I'm sticking to my theory - that we're looking in the wrong

  places for the thief.'

  He glanced up to watch cobalt blue bands of light winding

  themselves around knots of copper pipe. A little spillage

  from the nuclearoid engines which he had assured her wasn't

  dangerous.

  'I suppose you never came across that book by Barry

  Pain?' he asked. 'The One Before? I was enjoying it. Funny how

  nobody ever reinvented that kind of fiction. I knew most of

  those guys who came out in the 1890s - the New Journalism

  some of them called it. More than one bunch under the same

  tag. Like the 1960s. Nothing was around in your day that they

  hadn't thought of. I'd like to take you back there some time.

  Pett Ridge. Arthur Machen. J.M. Barrie. H.G. Wells. Jerome

  K. Jerome. P.G. Wodehouse. Lots of 'em, when they were all

  writing for the Pall Mall and The Fortnightly. Very funny, too, Pain. A lot of them...' He spoke absently, like someone trying

  to remember happier days.

  Amy had the feeling he was reluctant to say what was

  really on his mind. But she knew he wouldn't tell her any

  more than he wanted to, unless -

  'Are you trying to protect me from something?' she

  asked.

  He looked at her with a bit of the old twinkle in his eyes.

  'If I am, I haven't been very successful. I think I've told you

  everything I can be sure of.'

  'What? Enough to alarm me?'

  He smiled. 'Everything alarming you is what's alarming

  me. And I don't really know much more. I can't address any

  of the big questions, not without help from the TARDIS, and

  I'm still too scared to try bringing her in. I think there are

  powerful people looking for her. I can't afford not to keep

  her hidden. And the dark tides might rip the TARDIS apart.

  Or she could slip into another universe and we'd never see

  her again. The TARDIS is safest hidden from me as well as

  from anyone chasing us. So let's concentrate on the questions

  we can answer! Why is that hat still bothering me? It seems

  trivial but it's important to what we're here for, I know it is.

  We've worked out who planned to steal it, who was going to

  steal it and why. We aren't any further forward working out

  who actually stole it or why...' He was tired, leaning back on

  his bunk with his hands behind his head. 'I think if we had

  just a couple of answers we'd know better what to do. So we

  keep on hopping from one grubby old spaceport to another

  and hoping well find out before we get to Miggea. Do you

  know who the planet's named after?'

  'Who?'

  'A legendary Queen of Seirot. In the great fight between

  the forces of Law and Qiaos, she stood for Law. There was

  a war between the Archangels of Law and the Archangels of

  Chaos. A bit Miltonian, but there you go. Only without all

  that religion, thankfully. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, this

  queen led her forces into what was called the Battle for the

  Balance. So that was more like Ragnarok, I suppose - the end

  of everything. But the old chronicles rarely describe her as a

  force for good. Though she fought for Law, which is supposed

  to be good, right, she was seen as one who would rather kill

  for a principle than let an enemy live for a chance to make

  things better. That's Law gone sour. Function forgotten. And

  E.J. Milton wrote a whole epic poem about it. Her own troops

  stopped trusting her in the end. She spread so much carnage,

  they were sickened by the amount of blood she spilled for

  what she considered an ideal. You've heard people say: "That

  was positively Miggean?" Oh, you haven't. Really? Well, you know what I mean. Makes you think. That's why sports are

  so important. Well, I've just decided sports are so important.

  People rarely play sports for a principle, do they?'

  'It depends,' she said, glad finally to get a word in and

  determined to make use of it, 'whether you're a Rangers or a

  Celtic supporter.'

  She was glad when he laughed spontaneously. She realised

  it had been far too long since she had seen him do that.

  Chapter 10

  A Time to the Dance of Music

  THEY WERE A GOOD few parsecs from the source of the storm when

  the pirates were spotted, spiralling out of a globular cluster

  locally known as Grone and very quickly moving in parallel

  to their ship.

  The Doctor had been playing six-dimensional chess with

  the captain when the screens began to burp and sigh with

  warning signals.

  'They're after our water, almost certainly.' N'hn brought

  up the visuals, a thin spread of stars, and locked them into

  focus. 'They have instruments that can sniff it across the

  whole damned Milky Way. But they have no way of sniffing

  the Chronii.'

  'I didn't know you were carrying any.' The Doctor put his

  head to one side. 'I was a bit surprised when I saw your only

  big armament was an old-fashioned Kruppmeyer shunt-

  action Ganymede gun.'

  'That's more for reaction than it is for defence. The quickest

  way of getting out of a low-grav situation I know.' The

  centaur had become friendly with the Doctor, recognising

  his know-how and grateful to find a 6D player among his

  passengers. 'You can play with it, if you like. It might reassure

  the passengers and
draw their attention away from our real

  defences which—'

  'Not really my sort of thing,' the Doctor cut in. 'Aren't

  exactly legal, are they? Chronii, I mean.'

  'Don't ask me why we're criminals if we fly with the best

  protection anyone ever came up with. Mutuality. A perfect

  union of species.' The captain was keyboarding as he spoke.

  Now he started to flick unfashionable Horspool toggles and

  pass his free hand over his screens in configurations which

  once would have been thought magical.

  The Doctor was more interested in staring at the screens,

  trying to make out the nature of their likely attackers.

  Crenellated jade-like figuring along the hulls of the seven

  ships closing in on them was a sign that they had belonged

  to the old Manakai invaders from the Arkwright Cluster, but

  that lot had been wiped out ages ago. The ships were probably

  owned now by renegade members of the Dructionjen clans,

  exiled many generations earlier for Dalek-worship, a quasi-

  religious cult which believed the Doctor's old enemies would

  one day return to take over the galaxy. The Doctor had no

  time for the renegades or their beliefs but he knew their

  potential for destruction and took them seriously.

  N'hn was issuing orders in his full-throated accents,

  his hoofs drumming rapidly on the old insulating tiles,

  threatening to shake them loose again. The Dructionjen were

  moving into battle formation, clearly seeing the tanker as an

  easy mark.

  The Doctor slipped out of the control cabin to check on the

  passengers. Pale yellow light blazed up and down her jade

  crenellations. They had settled down after the storm. Many

  were still playing various games and remained blithely

  unconscious of the further approaching danger. A few had

  been alerted by the crew's changed behaviour. As the Doctor

  passed by, Hari Agincourt called out to him. 'Anything

  up, old boy? Something we can do? I was told we weren't

  seriously damaged by the storm.'

  'Nothing to do yet.' The Doctor slowed for a moment and

  lowered his voice. 'Don't say anything now, but we're about

  to be attacked by pirates. If we're boarded, which is unlikely,

  it might be a good thing to be ready to defend yourselves.'

  Hari's whispered response was typical. 'Oh, gosh! That's a

  spiffin' bit of luck. We're going to see some action, eh? What

  can I do?'

  'Just get some of the team together so they're ready for