The Coming of the Teraphiles

by Michael Moorcock

  any emergency we have to face, OK? Have you seen Amy?'

  'Down that way and to the left when I last saw her.'

  'Ah, yes. That would be right.' The Doctor disappeared in

  search of Amy.

  Although Hari had no clear idea what the pirates were

  like or how they could be fought, he was typically game

  for anything, while being perfectly aware of what the

  consequences could be. He had watched the optional

  infoscreens when he had first come aboard. They were

  graphic, put together at a time when the prevailing idea

  was that passengers had to be encouraged to fight off any

  attack by raiders. Nowadays the company let people watch

  who wanted to. Hari didn't like the look of the slimy beggars

  represented on the screen. He almost hoped they would be

  boarded so he could get a whack at them.

  A few moments later, Bingo rounded the comer at a rate

  of knots, his eyes bright with what his ancestors might have

  called battle lust. 'Seen my bow-case, old boy?'

  'I think you left it in that bit of the inspection gangway,

  old man.'

  'Thanks, old boy.'

  'Don't mention it, old man.'

  It was impossible not to bond under these circumstances.

  *

  The Doctor had found Amy and they were on their way back

  to the bridge when they passed Hari and Bingo again.

  Bingo's heart did some Olympic-standard aerobatics in his

  chest. He was determined to defend Amy, come what may.

  The fact that she was probably better equipped to defend

  Bingo never once occurred to him.

  When they reached the bridge, Amy helped the Doctor

  close the door behind them. The big centaur was sitting in his

  long bucket-seat, humming a tune to himself and stroking his

  holographs gently, carefully. As the pirates outside formed a

  cage around his ship, his instruments and screens gathered

  to their captain like obedient pets.

  He seemed unconcerned by the pirates' tactics. But Amy

  felt a new kind of tension in him in spite of his apparently

  relaxed attitude. He began to murmur rapidly into his main

  board, leaning forward, his tail perked high. 'OK.'

  The attacking ships were glittering with zigzagging bolts

  of pure gold and green energy. In another instant they would

  start firing, set at a factor designed to kill or stun passengers

  but leave the ship and cargo intact.

  The captain was snorting and tossing his long locks back

  from his eyes. Then he spoke in his own language, a series

  of high-pitched ululations, long snorts and grunts, rising

  to a loud and rather raucous whinny which had a note of

  challenge in it.

  At the same moment, the skipping lines of light along the

  hulls of the pirate vessels began to straighten and become

  still.

  Amy felt the Doctor tense. She guessed he knew what was

  coming.

  'Chronii!' he murmured to himself. 'I thought...'

  All at once the pirate ships swung in closer. Rapidly the

  energy along their hulls rearranged itself, uniting into one

  large beam which moved gradually away from each ship like

  a kind of searchlight until all were pointed in at the water

  tanker, threatening her and broadcasting a flashing blue and

  dark yellow signal to heave to, over and over: Heave to, Heave

  to.

  The centaur's hands began to drum out a series of rapid

  beats, those movements bringing him views of his own ship's

  exterior which had become spotted with coppery splotches,

  like a form of rust. But the rust, or whatever it was, had started

  to move, each patch crawling independently, seemingly of its

  own volition, slowly turning into bright, roughly spheroid,

  red and white shapes.

  Suddenly the rays moved out from the pirate ships,

  pencilling tighter, brilliant against the flat blackness of the

  universe until they all threatened the tanker.

  No message had come from the pirate fleet because none

  was needed. Everyone involved was aware of what passed

  between the predator and its prey. The thieves were giving

  the ship a chance to let them come aboard and pump out their

  water. But clearly Captain N'hn was not prepared to let them

  do this and was revealing whatever protection he possessed.

  That they were unimpressed was obvious, too. They hadn't

  recognised the odd, globular energy creatures carried by the

  tanker which the Doctor had earlier identified as Chronii.

  'Why's water so valuable to them?' Amy asked, finding

  the tension hard to bear. 'You'd hardly think it was worth

  fighting for. All they need is a decent recycling system.'

  'Modem ships have near-perfect recycling systems.' The

  Doctor spoke distantly, his eyes intent on the screens. 'But

  even they need to top up. These old ships use almost as much

  water as people do where you come from. Their recycling

  units are shot. So whenever a pirate gets a water alert, this

  is what happens. They must have some pretty sophisticated

  detection gear. But there's something else going on here.

  'Yeah. They're going to kill us.'

  'They don't care. They think their force beams will stun us

  long enough for them to come aboard, pinch the water and

  leave. Usually they're not bothered whether the occupants

  live or die. Generally, they die.'

  'What can we do?'

  'Not a thing. Watch for an opportunity. But there's nothing

  we can do right now.'

  Amy opened her mouth to ask another question and then

  closed it. The rays were darting across the darkness as the

  clusters of light on the tanker's hull broke clear, apparently

  deliberately moving towards the rays, forming a kind of

  link-mail armour around the ship. The rays met the clusters,

  spread and then somehow seemed to writhe and bend,

  unable to pass the balls of light. The captain was yelling

  now, what appeared to be challenges in his own resonant

  language. The rays suddenly began to turn outwards, away

  from the tanker. Very quickly they were cut off on the ships.

  The pirate vessels began to fan out urgently, as if they had

  only now realised what was happening.

  But the tanker's weird globes had swiftly turned the same

  colour as the rays. The globes actually raced upwards, like

  bowling pins up an alley, using the attackers' own force

  beams to climb towards the ships!

  'What are they, Doctor?' She was fascinated, still not sure

  how safe they were from the pirates.

  The attacking ships were now taking evasive action. They

  twirled and bucked through space at a rate which threatened

  to break them apart. They tried to angle themselves so that

  they would be virtually invisible but still they could not escape

  the strangely bending verdigris and mustard rays which

  their own beams had become. Nor could they get away from

  the globes which used the beams as roads, rolling up them,

  blending their own colours with those of the attackers.

  The Doctor bent forward, his eyes on the main screen,

  leani
ng over the captain's shoulder as the handsome centaur

  chuckled and neighed and continued to caress his keys.

  'So you really do carry Chronii,' said the Doctor.

  The captain shrugged.

  'Why are they illegal, Doctor?' Amy wanted to know.

  'I think the authorities are scared of a public outcry.

  They're hard to understand, the Chronii.'

  'Are they - what? - sentient? Can they think?' she asked

  'Oh, yes. They're sentient all right. Pretty intelligent. Their

  own planet's out near the Rosette Nebula. It's off-limits to

  any member of the Galactic Union, which is almost every

  inhabited world in this era. They turn a blind eye to what

  they call Crucial Services using them. Not many do, because

  you have to make deals with the Chronii. They don't work

  for nothing and they're all volunteers.'

  'Why would they volunteer?'

  'There's a trade-off. I suppose you could call them

  gourmets.'

  Now the rays were arcing around so that they were

  spearing straight towards the pirates who were putting their

  craft through all kinds of complicated manoeuvres in an

  effort to get out of their way.

  The globes began to drift back towards their own ship.

  They no longer twinkled with verdigris and mustard but had

  a greyish tinge.

  'They're exhausted,' said the Doctor. 'They've done their

  best. Now we have to wait and see if that best was good

  enough.'

  Even as he spoke the nearest pirate ship was struck by its

  own armaments, bent back on themselves. The ship flickered

  with scarlet and emerald flames and then began to drift away,

  clearly out of control.

  'What's happened to it, Doctor? Have the Chronii killed

  them?'

  'Probably not. What's happened to them is what they

  expected to happen to us. At least until they spotted the

  Chronii. Then it was too late for them to get away.'

  'I still don't understand.'

  'Well, they have, so to speak, been hoist by their own

  petards.'

  'What's a petard?'

  'Look it up on the internet when you get the chance.'

  'You don't know, do you?'

  'I used to know. I've forgotten. Some sort of bomb or

  booby trap, I think. Anyway, it means that what the pirates

  planned for us is now happening to them instead, because

  the Chronii, who are wonderful little beings, can turn almost

  any form of aggression away from themselves and direct it

  back at the aggressor, usually in a more powerful form.'

  The pirates were now all spinning helplessly out of

  control, their formation completely broken. The only reason

  they remained nearby was because the tanker's gravity held

  them.

  From somewhere in the distant bowels of the Kl-32 came

  the sound of wild, raucous cheering.

  Captain N'hn turned, grinning at Amy. 'There you are,

  girlie. That's what a ship without guns can do. If she has

  friends. And the Chronii are the best friends any spacer could

  come by, eh, Doctor?'

  'While you're alive. Where did you find them?' The Doctor

  continued to keep his eye on the helpless pirates. 'Not the

  Rosette.'

  'Right. They found us. They wanted a trade and I was

  willing to give them one. They save our lives and they get

  whatever spoils there are. Look, they're heading out for that

  ship.' It was true. The globes of silver and copper had regained

  a little of their lustre and were disappearing through the hull

  of the nearest predator.

  Amy was still puzzled. 'I don't get it. What do they want?

  How are they paid?'

  'They eat our waste,' murmured the Doctor, a little

  disgustedly.

  Captain N'hn began to laugh at what he obviously

  regarded as the Doctor's delicacy of expression.

  'They love the taste of humans,' said the captain. 'They

  get to eat the fresh corpses of the dead - either side - after a

  battle. That's where they're going now.'

  'But what if they're not dead?' Amy wanted to know.

  'Oh, they will be soon enough,' the captain reassured

  her. He laughed loudly again when he saw her horrified

  expression.

  'Hang on,' said the Doctor staring hard at a screen. 'What's

  happening there?'

  Chapter 11

  Antimatters

  THE SCREEN SHOWED A length of the tanker's hull and, some distance

  away, the leading pirate ship. From out of that ship another

  beam connected with the shadowy rays left behind by the

  Chronii. This brightened suddenly into white and red rays,

  intertwined. The beam had reached the Kl-32 and spread

  around one of the rear airlocks.

  The captain cursed and looked about under his desk,

  grabbing a big old-fashioned NE-gun from the floor and

  running out of the control cabin hastily followed by the

  Doctor.

  'What is it?' Amy wanted to know, following as fast as she

  could. 'Captain? Doctor? What's going on?'

  The captain was too distracted to answer, talking into a

  microphone, issuing rapid orders to his crew. The Doctor

  did his best to respond while looking wildly around him

  for anything that might help. Seeing a discarded bow and a

  quiver of arrows, he snatched it up.

  'Defend yourself!' he told Amy. 'Any way you can.'

  'And why? What should I be worrying about?' she wanted

  to know.

  'Boarders!' Was all he had time to tell her.

  'We've been boarded? Who by? I thought the Chronii had

  dealt with them.'

  'They dealt with the pirates. What none of us knew was

  that the pirates were carrying passengers.'

  'You know who they are?'

  'That candy-striped ray could only come from one source.

  I'm hoping I'm wrong...'

  'And here we are, Doctor dear.' A strange, growling voice,

  full of mockery, with a slight, metallic lisp. 'Here we are

  again, darling. Ready to straighten you all out.'

  The voice came from around the comer of a corridor.

  Captain N'hn, who had been galloping ahead of them, his

  big rifle ready, came to a sudden swerving halt, throwing

  up his hand to stop them following. He shouted to a group

  of his men who had appeared ahead of them. 'Stop. It's

  too late. They're in.' Lowering the gun he turned to glance

  at the Doctor, shrugging. He carried an air of hopelessness

  completely at odds with his earlier manner. He drew a great

  breath and let it out slowly. 'They're in.'

  The Doctor shrugged. 'We did our best. We didn't know.'

  He raised his voice: 'Good afternoon, General Force. How's

  life on the other side?'

  'Safe, warm and beautifully predictable, thanks for asking,

  Doctor. No need for me to enquire how life is for you. Chaotic

  as usual, I'm sure. Well, we're here to help.' He seemed to

  speak with two synchronised voices.

  They reached a part of the ship used as a kind of makeshift

  gym. Several crew members and a few of the Tournament

  team looked helplessly on at the weird group who stood there.

  They were uni
formed and carried wide-nozzled weapons

  a bit like old blunderbusses, and they seemed unnaturally

  pale; even the men with darker skins had an oddly grey

  appearance. At first glance they resembled a theatrical

  troupe. Their uniforms were garish reds, golds, blues and

  green. They wore peaked high-crowned dark blue military

  caps with sweeping plumes. The gold braid on their sleeves,

  jacket fronts, collars and shoulders was almost blinding. Yet

  the men were each surrounded by a strange, pinkish aura,

  covering them from head to foot.

  Amy looked at the Doctor. 'How did they escape the

  Chronii?'

  'The Chronii didn't recognise them. Without those

  skinsuits they're wearing - not the comic opera uniforms but

  the pink aura - they would disintegrate. They'd implode and

  take us with them. Sometimes two or more have to share the

  same body but they must be related. Something to do with

  their DNA. Or is that anti-DNA? That's why Frank/Freddie

  sound as if they are talking in an echo chamber. They are

  literally brothers under the skin. They carry a subcutaneous

  energy pack to create that aura, which in turn gives them

  the means, quite literally, of hanging together. It's a pseudo-

  skin. Switches on and off. It allows them to enter our space. If

  we managed to break down an aura with some sort of energy

  weapon or even the sonic screwdriver we'd destroy them

  very quickly, but we'd also destroy ourselves. There's only

  one safe way...'

  One of the men spoke. 'Succinctly put, Doctor.' Amy

  guessed he was the leader, because his voice had that same

  echo and he wore a vast amount of gold frogging across his

  chest and a multitude of twirls on his mustachios. He put

  a short-fingered hand to his soup-strainer and laughed into

  Amy's face. 'Who's your new gal?'

  The Doctor ignored this but inserted himself between

  Amy and the newcomer. 'None of that, General Force. What

  do you want here?'

  So this was the infamous Frank/Freddie Force, thought

  Amy, and those comic opera soldiers behind him had to be

  his Antimatter Men.

  'Those suits are their defence and a potential suicide

  weapon,' the Doctor continued, his eyes cold as he glared at

  General Force. 'It's like a personal protective field. The Chronii

  didn't realise Force and his boys were aboard. They couldn't

  have done much against them if they had known. Unless you