The Coming of the Teraphiles

by Michael Moorcock

  back courteously as the second coin was tossed and called.

  Once more the Doctor lost the toss and watched keenly while

  a second Judoon lumbered up to the nutting pad, cheered

  by a large number of the audience. He lifted his hammer in

  acknowledgement. He was very definitely the favourite.

  Again the Brazil was placed and a white-gloved

  representative of the Visitors checked it. Again the huge

  Judoon judged it with the naked eye, hefted his sledgehammer

  and swung suddenly, expertly, and the nut fell into two

  perfect halves.

  Wild cheers again for the favourite.

  When his turn came, the Doctor felt like a midget up against

  giants. His only applause came from his team's immediate

  supporters. His hammer felt like lead. For a moment he

  hesitated, then adjusted his hands on the shaft while the

  white-gloved nutter stepped forward. The Brazil was placed

  and Bingo, representing the Gents, came to observe and then

  accept the positioning. Now the Doctor stepped up, lifted

  his hammer high over his head, shifted his feet a little in the

  sand, and struck. There came a gasp from the audience and

  for a moment he felt he had checked the blow too soon. Then,

  in relief, he saw the two sides fall and heard his supporters

  cheer. The first round was a draw.

  Place. Swing. Crack. Place. Swing. Crack.

  The Doctor's turn came round again. So far the cracksmen

  were level. All were aiming for a clean round. The Doctor

  was beginning to gain confidence but he knew he had to

  be careful and marshal all the skill he had. The game had

  already begun to slow. Characteristically, Judoon were

  naturally competitive but tended to lose self-control if put

  in a weak position. The Doctor knew that his best chance

  was to draw ahead by even the smallest margin and use the

  Judoon's natural impatience against them. So far he knew

  he had been lucky. That luck would not hold much longer,

  especially at Change of Nut, when the next of the four kinds

  of competition nuts was brought into play.

  Sadly, on his fourth swing, he proved this spectacularly.

  The hammer came down on his first walnut. Somehow

  he misjudged. The muscles of his upper left arm twitched

  uncontrollably and the hammer descended with huge force

  on the nut, smashing it to pieces and sending fragments

  showering all over the place.

  One of his opponents said something so rude in Judoon

  that he spluttered and almost choked on his own grunting

  laughter. This set the other Judoon guffawing, too, so that the

  pair could hardly hang on to their hammers when, to their

  astonishment, the Doctor said, in perfect Southern Judoon:

  'Now, now, gentlemen, you would not wish such language

  to be heard by your mothers, I hope! Assuming you know

  who they are.'

  Whereupon the first Judoon asserted that he would be

  happy to use the Doctor's head for his next turn with the

  hammer if that would make him feel any better, and the

  second added that if his rival Judoon cared to knock it off he

  would gladly give that head to the village children to use for

  their next polo match.

  And so on.

  Until the Doctor asked him if his horn had come loose and

  been lost amongst bits of shell because it had been so small

  it was impossible to tell. This made the Judoon turn bright

  brown. If there is one thing guaranteed to upset a member

  of his great race it is a disparaging remark about his horn.

  He offered that he would be more than willing to give the

  Doctor an idea about the size of his horn by, in his own coarse

  phrase, sticking it where the sun didn't shine. He followed

  this remark with a noise vaguely reminiscent of a speedboat

  running aground on mud, which the Doctor recognised

  immediately as the Judoon version of what the English once

  called a raspberry, the Americans knew as a Bronx cheer and

  the mole people of Juno Major knew as a reverse-frrrrrrmp.

  Eventually, the umpire stepped in and insisted all three

  contestants shake hands like gentlemen and apologise, which

  was done, not without a moment's hesitation on the part of

  the two Judoon.

  Both Judoon then embarrassed themselves considerably

  by smashing their own nuts rather noisily and drawing some

  loud laughter not only from the Doctor's supporters but from

  their own. The Doctor saw that he now had the advantage.

  Worse than being booed for making a fault, the Judoon feared

  becoming the subject of amusement.

  The next three games were won by the Doctor and then

  each of the two Judoon, so that the Gentlemen were still one

  game behind.

  The final Change of Nut was to a pecan, the hardest

  regulation nut to crack with a sledgehammer owing to the

  relative softness of its shell. This would be the deciding

  Change unless they came to a draw between two of the

  players in which case a tie-breaker would be brought out,

  the most difficult of all - a chestnut. By some miracle, as the

  Doctor saw it, the Visitors' Judoon was eliminated. The final

  was now between him and the Judoon from the Tourists.

  The chestnut was brought out.

  Place. Swing. Crack. Place. Swing. Crack.

  Another chestnut.

  Place. Swing. Crack. Place. Swing. Crack.

  The Doctor was sweating visibly and both competitors

  were flagging. Yet still no clear winner had been decided.

  Place. Swing. Crack.

  The Judoon was puffing and panting, frustrated that he

  could not easily beat the Doctor. Muttering and fuming,

  smelling noticeably of sweat salt, the Judoon took careful aim,

  swung his hammer and - smashed the chestnut to pulp.

  The play had taken all afternoon. To his own utter

  amazement, the Doctor had squeaked into first place. The

  next day would be the first of the equine events played by all

  teams, involving the quintain, while the final event would be

  the jousting. This would be followed by the broadswording

  event. Only on the fourth day would the serious team game

  begin and the first of several whackit matches be played, each

  lasting at least three days. The Doctor was glad that there was

  no other part of the tournament likely to rest entirely on his

  shoulders, though, with untried substitutes, the Gentlemen

  were bound to have a very hard time of it indeed.

  That evening in the saloon bar of the Blue Barsoomian, the

  Doctor was feted by team-mates who no longer wore the

  air of a team which had already lost. Amy proposed a toast

  which was seconded by Flapper and Hari.

  'To the Doctor. Saving the day!'

  The Doctor had never felt at once so pleased and so

  burdened by responsibility. While the Gentlemen celebrated

  the winning of their first round, he was already wondering

  what strategy their captain, Bingo Lockesley, planned for

  the whackit matches. And so far, in spite of his promises to

  produce the missing Roogalator, Captain Abberley had not

&nbs
p; yet made his appearance.

  Had he been lying about knowing where to find it? Did

  Quelch have it? Quelch always liked to pretend he was a

  major player when in fact he rarely was.

  Or had he, the Doctor wondered, been completely

  deceiving himself?

  'So what do you think, Bingo? Will we get the Arrer

  if we win?' He spoke to the Earl of Lockesley, but he was

  looking hard at Mr Banning-Cannon. The Earthman seemed

  startled.

  'We're bound to win,' said Bingo, 'so we're bound to get

  the Silver Arrow, Doctor.'

  'I admire your confidence, sir.' Mr Banning-Cannon held

  up a guilty shant. He had misjudged these lads. Spending so

  much time in their company, he had developed something of

  a liking for the Terraphiles. He would be taking some great

  ideas home. Money in the bank, this trip. 'Can I get anyone

  anything?'

  'The Arrow will be ours. It will,' Bingo said. 'I know it.

  Well win it. Do you know why, chaps?'

  'Why, Bingo?' asked Amy, smiling at him. She had to love

  his innocent confidence.

  'Because it's so important to us,' he said. 'You need it,

  don't you, Doctor? To straighten the multiverse out. That's

  what you're doing for us.'

  'I told you I admired your confidence,' broke in Mr

  B-C, who was enjoying himself increasingly. 'Humans are

  remarkable in that respect.'

  Bingo was surprised. 'You speak as if you're not one of us.

  But you are, aren't you?'

  'Almost.' Mr B-C gestured with his glass and laughed

  loudly. 'Half-human, anyway, according to my wife.' He

  offered the decanter.

  'Better not,' said Bingo. 'You know. Important game

  tomorrow and all that. You want us to do what's right, don't

  you? I can tell you're a decent chap at heart. One of us. You

  want to see Mrs B-C present it to the winning team, eh, and

  you want that team to be—'

  Mrs Banning-Cannon's powerful voice rang out from

  the private bar. 'All I want to find out is who stole my hat.

  The authorities here are absolutely useless. I was in the

  magistrate's office half the day! And could they offer so much

  as a clue? They gave me nothing but lame excuses. They said

  it was stolen outside their jurisdiction. I told him that all the

  likely suspects were bound to be here. We left no one on the

  ship did we? Except bots? I have learned a great deal about

  the police forces of half the universes on this trip. Where's

  my daring Doctor? He'll know what to do.'

  The Doctor was heading for the door. 'Early night,' he

  said. 'Big game tomorrow.'

  'I think I'd better call it a day too,' said Amy and about half

  the others there in chorus.

  Mrs Banning-Cannon was left wondering why the pub

  had suddenly emptied.

  Chapter 23

  The Rising Sun

  FOR A TIME THE Tournament followed a leisurely predictable

  course. Everywhere you looked were people in the formal

  greens' which showed them to be professional Terraphile

  Re-Enactors: Lincoln Green Sherlock hats, Lincoln Green

  hooded capes, Lincoln Green doublets, hose and boots with

  long toes which suited some of the competitors but did not,

  for instance, do much for a Judoon.

  The Doctor proved a good all-rounder, doing some sturdy

  work at the various games allowing players to qualify for the

  serious matches ahead. He was knocked off his centaur more

  times than he might have liked at quintain, but he conducted

  himself usefully in the jousting. Amy and Flapper were, they

  both agreed, lucky to qualify, but they made it. Nano-tech

  tabs had helped them enormously, but natural skill could

  not be taught. Flapper, in fact, discovered a genetic talent for

  Skipping the Landlord, and Amy was unpleasantly surprised

  by how well she did at Hanging the Serf (a straw one these

  days - real ones wriggled and cursed too much for a family

  sport).

  The beautiful deep blue of the sun spread its gorgeous

  light across amber and rust-coloured hills. Apart from the

  colours, Flynn might have been Old Old Earth, dreaming in

  some perpetual summer.

  The Doctor said nothing of his own discomforting thoughts,

  remembering Edwardian England confident in her power to

  spread peace and justice across the world at the very moment

  before the first Great War began. He did his best to smile and

  join in the fun. Everyone's attention was on the games. The

  spectators were having a good time. Only someone who took

  pleasure in spreading anxiety would possibly want to spoil

  this mood. After all, he thought, forcing a grin and accepting

  a pint in the Blue Barsoomian the day before the first whackit

  match, this might be the last time they ever actually enjoyed

  life again.

  The choice of order of play went to the Tourists who

  chose as first opponents the Visitors, believing they could

  pretty easily defeat the Gentlemen if they first beat the other

  team. They would be fresh for the first game. This gave the

  Gentlemen little to do but practise and observe. Both their

  rivals had Second Fifteens they could draw upon, though

  the rules concerning this were a bit complicated, which gave

  them a further advantage, and both were pretty much on top

  form.

  The players in their fresh 'greens', some dressed in green

  armour consisting of leg, arm and body covering, huge

  helmets with visors and shoulder pads, made their way from

  the pavilion to the pitch. They looked magnificent outlined

  against the pulsing disc of the sun.

  The first day's play had a few surprises, however, when

  J'n, a saurian who was the Visitors' second-best archer and

  a useful whacker, was caught by an arrow shot by Je'I'me

  Polucks, the famous half-Spooni known as the Battling Bow-

  Wright because he had made his own equipment as a poor

  boy in the infamous Jelly Ghetto on Ethel. Polucks took four

  more targets that afternoon, establishing a sticky off hundred

  which could not be regained in a hurry, though Argentino, the

  Visitors' star, would do it if anyone could. In fact, Argentino

  had been watching from the pavilion, and Amy could almost

  hear him gearing himself up to get that supplemental and

  change it in for spins. But meanwhile the spectators were

  applauding on both sides.

  After that things settled in to a good, calm thwick-slamp

  of arrows being shot and arrows being whacked, with the

  Visitors keeping their lead for the next day and into the

  following morning until the captain decided to bring in

  Argentino. No one could have guessed that Argentino's

  mother had been a lab rat. He was tall, fit, personable, with a

  shock of white-blond hair that would have let him model for

  some great V-roles a few hundred years earlier, before public

  taste changed. His diamond-sharp blue eyes and his wide,

  honest features made him the darling of the lady spectators.

  He was the player to watch.

  Standin
g on the pavilion deck, Mickey Argentino casually

  strung his bow, slipped his quiver over his back, and strolled

  onto the pitch to wild applause. Sum'in, the Cairene Dodger,

  was caught for 20 and Jill Jay managed to get to 29 before

  the cunningly placed arrow was caught off-slate by Kali-Kali

  rising into the air as if on winged feet, gracefully shooting

  the arrow back and slipping it past the wotsit keeper into the

  heart of the wotsit itself. Amy was sorry to see Jill be taken

  off so quickly. They had become friendly, since Jill claimed

  Scottish ancestry and wanted to hear anything Amy could

  tell her about Mackintosh the Tea Maker and so on. Amy had

  done her best not to bring Jill down too heavily on certain

  facts, like haggis-warrens, which she couldn't fudge and

  remain honest.

  By now the Visitors had no advantage, but the Tourists still

  needed a good hundred rounds to win. This was first-class

  playing and, for another two hours until teatime, Argentino

  kept up a steady and varied strategy, sinking one 380 after

  another. When they broke, even the surliest Judoon on the

  other team could not help but congratulate Mickey A.

  After tea, Argentino strode in to shoot against Pilliom

  Rekya, who was the best whacker left and a bit of a dark

  horse. Pilliom whacked Argentino's first arrow to left far

  point where O'Gruff caught it in a beautiful spinning lift,

  returning it to Brown at the Visitors' end wotsit. Brown

  attempted to slip it into the target with a millisecond to spare

  before Argentino's startled gaze just as something flickered in

  the early evening sunlight. From horizon to horizon the sky

  glowed blood red, and they all felt the ground shift beneath

  their feet.

  The Doctor spoke quietly from behind Amy. 'I don't think

  that was nature responding to a fine bit of playing. I'm afraid

  that's Miggea getting ready to shift.' He paused, frowning.

  'Oh! Oh, bother! I've just realised I might have made one

  rather crucial miscalculation.

  As umpires conferred, Argentino came off the Tournament

  pitch, his expression one of quiet resolution, his already

  unstrung bow over his shoulder. He saw the Doctor and

  lifted his heavy eyebrows to show that he knew his luck had

  turned. He didn't blame the sun any more than he would

  blame the rain, which now began to pour from sudden black

  clouds with tropical force. Besides which, he had scored