BBC Cult Dr Who - The Sands Of Time

by BBCi Cult

  'The pyramids?'

  'Yes, the pyramids were built to the plans and instructions left by the Osirans after they visited Earth.'

  Atkins considered. 'It would explain some of the history of ancient Egypt,' he said. 'The country changed far more rapidly than anyone really believes is possible. They moved from a culture based round villages with chieftains to countries with kings in about two hundred years.'

  The Doctor nodded. 'You'll also find that there is evidence that those kings were significantly taller and with much larger heads than their subjects. The Osirans not only left their mark in the style of architecture, they used their powers to project mental energy into their chosen rulers so that they and their descendants would follow through on the grand plan. Probably the pyramids had to be built exactly as they are for some great reason. Like keeping Sutekh and Nephthys restrained.'

  'So who were Sutekh and Nephthys?'

  'Sutekh was an evil Osiran of almost unparalleled mental power. The weight of it drove him mad, and he sought to destroy all life that was not his equal. He destroyed planet after planet and left a trail of havoc and devastation across half the cosmos before his brother Osiris caught up with him. Then, so far as I can tell, he and Nephthys killed Osiris, destroyed their planet, and fled to Earth.'

  'Egypt?'

  'Exactly. Horus and his fellow surviving Osirans cornered Sutekh and Nephthys in ancient Egypt. They overpowered them and imprisoned them.'

  'So that's all right,' Tegan said. 'Isn't it?'

  'Well, no actually, it isn't. You have to understand the Osiran mentality. They were a cunning lot. Devious and enigmatic just for the sheer fun of it. They wouldn't execute Sutekh or Nephthys as that would mean stooping to their level. But they didn't think just locking them up was good enough either.'

  'So?'

  'So they left the means for their escape just out of reach. Sutekh knew that in the next chamber to where he was kept paralysed was all the equipment he would need to build a pyramid-powered missile to destroy the power source that kept him captive. And he knew that there was an infinitesimally small chance that he would ever get to activate the Osiran service robots that would build and operate the missile.

  'Robots?' asked Tegan. She was beginning to feel apprehensive.

  The Doctor nodded. 'Yes. Wrapped in protective bandages impregnated with chemicals to protect them from corrosion and decay.'

  'So, the creatures that attacked the camp -' Atkins began.

  'Were service robots working for Nephthys. Yes.'

  Tegan considered. 'So, you say you know what happened to Sutekh. But where is Nephthys actually imprisoned, and what was her infinitesimally small chance of escape?'

  The Doctor looked her in the eyes. 'I haven't a clue,' he said. 'But I have a horrible suspicion that what we are doing may be exactly what she needs and intends. The Osirans live for a terrifically long time, so Nephthys can afford to be patient. To her, a thousand years is like an inconvenient wait for the next train. That's how she managed to take Nyssa back in time.'

  'How do you mean?'

  'Osirans can somehow absorb the time spillage. The time expended has to go somewhere. Whether you travel backwards or forwards, there's an equal amount of time that has to be accounted for, a bit like conservation of energy. Nephthys can absorb that temporal differential into herself and just get older by the same amount as the journey through time.'

  They were silent for a while. Eventually Tegan said: 'You're really worried about this, aren't you, Doctor?'

  He nodded. 'Remember I said the figure of exactly a hundred years just popped into my head?'

  Tegan nodded. Then realized the implication. 'Mental powers!'

  'Exactly,' said the Doctor. His face was set. 'And it's too late now to reverse the process. In a few days Nyssa will wake up.'

  'And when she does?' asked Atkins.

  'I'm not really sure. But I have a feeling that when Nyssa is revived, Nephthys will also live again.'

  * * *

  Sotherby's Auction House, 1978 'Lot number fifty-eight: a bracelet of early dynastic origin, with a scarab beetle motif as described in the catalogue.'

  Sir John Mapleton flicked through to the right page and briefly skimmed the description. He remembered the piece, unremarkable to look at, but it had a certain charm. He had stood for several minutes at the preview staring at it. The workmanship was really quite good. Probably worth a shout.

  The auctioneer seemed surprised at the interest, his eyebrows raising higher with each bid.

  Mapleton mentally set himself an upper limit, and continued his bidding by habit as much as discretion. When he approached his limit he would assess the other contenders and decide on a strategy, whether to bid them up or try to slow the rise. So sad that poor old Arthur Evans had come to the point where he had to sell off even his most precious collection. But it really was an excellent piece.

  With a start, Mapleton realized he had just bid over his limit. He really should pay attention. But he was trying to remember, wasn't the bracelet the one that Evans said some relative had brought back himself from Egypt? He raised his hand, and the price, while he thought about it.

  He ended up bidding far more than the bracelet was really worth, but what was the point if you couldn't indulge yourself now and again. And it would keep Evans happy to know it had gone to a good home.

  'An excellent purchase, Sir John,' a voice said quietly as he left the hall. 'I know you will look after it well.'

  He swung round. 'Thank you.' He was not sure he knew the man. Surely he would remember someone so striking? The man was completely bald, not tall, but built like a wrestler. His accent and bronzed skin suggested he could be Egyptian. A faint tracery of lines, possibly scars, ran across the surface of his face so that it looked cracked like an old oil painting. And he was smiling in a way that set Sir John's teeth on edge.

  * * *

  Chapter Ten The party soon split into two main groups. Vanessa took Tegan to meet her school and college friends, who by and large occupied the old servants' quarters, in particular the kitchen area. Atkins, despite his natural affinity for the servants' area, stayed with the Doctor and Prior in the drawing room. Here Prior's friends and associates gathered to drink sherry and whisky and to try to ignore the vibrant beat of loud music emanating from the opposite end of the house.

  Atkins stuck close to the Doctor, who seemed to have no trouble integrating himself into the proceedings, introducing them to complete strangers and striking up interesting conversations where none had previously existed.

  Atkins felt out of place at two levels. First he did not feel he had much in common with any of the people present, almost all of whom were contemporaries of Prior and therefore rather older than himself. At least, in terms of actual age if not date of birth. Second, given that he was there, he felt he should be offering round a tray of drinks. To make matters worse, he understood very little of what was said.

  'You're a bit young for this room, aren't you?' the Doctor asked a tall man in his late twenties, out of the blue.

  He was wearing a smart suit, and had a small moustache that was slightly more ginger than his brown hair. 'So, I think, are you,' the man replied.

  'I'm older than I look, though.'

  The man nodded. 'Neat costumes, by the way,' he said to the Doctor and Atkins with a straight face. 'I didn't realize it was fancy dress.'

  'Is it?' The Doctor looked round. 'I must have misread the invitation.'

  The man laughed. 'You'd probably fit in with Nessa's crowd better than I do. Not really my scene. But so long as she's happy.'

  The Doctor snapped his fingers. 'James Norris, of course. Aubrey Prior mentioned you.'

  Norris smiled. 'The same. And you are?'

  The Doctor introduced them both.

  'Oh yes,' Norris said. 'Aubrey mentioned you. Says you knew the house before we got at it, is that right?'

  'I spent some time here a while ago,' Atkins offered.

>   'And what do you think?' He leaned closer, in mock conspiracy. 'I should warn you that I was the architect, before you comment.'

  'I think it's terrific,' the Doctor said quickly.

  'Thank you. But I don't.'

  'No?'

  'No. Competent. But Aubrey had some strange ideas about what he wanted. And I was young enough to go along with them rather than say they were silly. I suppose I was flattered he asked me, being so inexperienced. A bit more experience and I'd have made a better job of it.'

  The Doctor smiled. 'Keeping it in the family?

  'God no. I hardly knew Nessa when we started. Got to know Prior as I had an interest in Egyptology, inherited a few worthless relics from an aunt years ago. Aubrey valued them for me. He's a real fanatic. Lives for it, though he came to it rather late, I suppose.' He finished his wine and toyed with the glass, twisting his fingers round the slender stem. 'Got to know Nessa while we were having the work done. She was still at school. After we finished, I hung around. Got to know her rather better.' 'And now you're engaged.'

  'Yes.' His face lit up. 'Still can't quite believe it. Look, can I get you another drink or something, I'm having another glass.'

  'Thank you,' the Doctor said. 'Perhaps an orange juice or lemonade?'

  'And you?'

  'Is there any single malt?' Atkins asked. He rather thought he might need it. Norris returned with their drinks a few minutes later. By then the Doctor was deep in conversation with an old school friend of Prior's, Leonard Cranwell. Norris waited long enough to be polite, then murmured his farewells and moved on to talk with someone else.

  Cranwell turned out to be a retired major. He was gruff but pleasant, and exuded common sense. Atkins was pleased to note that the military type seemed much the same as it had a century earlier.

  'Dunno why we kept in touch, really,' Cranwell said. 'Used to write when I was posted abroad. Knew Prior's uncle a bit. Good chap, terrible tragedy, Cancer of some sort. Aubrey was very cut up about it. Then of course his wife and all that.'

  'Yes, of course.'

  'Vanessa's a lovely thing, though. Does him proud. Found a good lad in Norris too, though he never saw service. Bit of an arty sort, but he'll muddle thought I dare say.'

  'What was her mother like?' the Doctor asked when he got a chance.

  Cranwell frowned. 'Never met her. Don't think many of us did. They were married and having Vanessa before we knew about it. I didn't even know he'd met anyone until I heard about her death. Tragic.' He grabbed a passing woman by the arm and guided her into their group. She struggled to keep her drink in the glass as she changed course.

  'Did you ever meet Aubrey's wife, Margaret?'

  'His wife's name was Margaret?' asked the Doctor.

  'No,' the woman smiled. 'My name's Margaret. I don't know what her name was. It was all very quick, a lightning romance and a swift wedding. No, I never met her.' The woman looked away into the distance. 'She died in childbirth poor thing. It must be terrible for Vanessa to know that. I didn't think it happened any more.'

  Tegan had enjoyed the evening enormously, meeting people of about her age and talking to them about everyday normal things like jobs, boyfriends, and the weather. She was just wishing Vanessa a happy birthday when the Doctor and Atkins arrived.

  'We weren't sure we really fit into the other group,' the Doctor said. 'So we thought we'd try this one.'

  'Well, you're more than welcome. Help yourselves to drinks.' Vanessa waved to the kitchen table which was covered in bottles and cans. Some of them still had liquid in.

  'I like your ring,' the Doctor said. 'I didn't notice it earlier, was it a present?' Vanessa smiled. 'Yes, isn't it lovely? Dad gave it me this morning.'

  'Congratulations, by the way,' the Doctor said, looking closer at Vanessa's hand. 'May I see?'

  'Of course.' She held her left hand out so that he could examine the large ring better. 'I don't usually like dad's Egyptian stuff. But this is different. It feels so old and full of wisdom, you know?'

  'Thank you,' the Doctor stepped back, motioning for Tegan to take a look at the ring. It was made of heavy gold, inset with a large pale blue stone. As she peered into it, Tegan could see tiny flaws in the ancient gem, seven tiny dots or imperfection forming a pattern that seemed vaguely familiar. 'It's -' she began in surprise.

  'Beautiful,' the Doctor finished for her.

  Tegan looked at Atkins, and he gave a slight nod. He had recognized the stone too. When Tegan had first seen it, the ring had lain on a small red velvet cushion. In the tomb, beside Nyssa's sarcophagus.

  'Is it important?' Atkins asked as they trouped up towards their rooms as the party drew to a muddled close some time later.

  'Probably not,' the Doctor said. 'It's a nice present for a beautiful young woman, that's all.' He pointed up the stairway to the ceiling of the floor above. There was a small skylight set against the outside wall of the house. 'Remind me to ask Norris what that's for,' the Doctor said. 'Seems like an odd addition. What do you think, Tegan?'

  Tegan did not answer. She thought she had drunk too much. And it didn't help that the outer wall she was leaning against as she went upstairs seemed to be sloping at an odd angle. But then that was nothing to the Mexican wave the ceiling was doing.

  'That thing's sharp,' complained Norris, not for the first time. He pushed Nessa's hand away. 'I know it was a present, but can't you take it off for a bit? At least while we're in bed?'

  'I like it,' she said. It was what she had said on each of the previous occasions that he had asked her to remove the ring.

  'Well I don't.' Immediately he was sorry. He could see he had upset her. It was her birthday, and he should let her have her way today of all days. 'I mean, I do like it. But I don't like it digging into me like that. It could do someone some serious damage.'

  'Rubbish.'

  'Fine. Well, I'll sleep somewhere else then. I won't get any rest knowing you've got your knuckle-duster on.'

  He expected her to laugh, and then to give in and take off the ring. They had each made their point, they had each won. And then they would curl up together and feel the warmth of the other's close body as they drifted off to sleep.

  Instead, she turned over, away from him, and said: 'Fine. See you tomorrow.'

  Norris considered for a moment. 'I thought I'd go down to the cottage tomorrow,' he said. 'Got some work to finish up before the weekend.'

  No response.

  'Look,' he said, 'I'm sorry I was rude about the ring. It's great. I like it a lot and it's a wonderful present. But it hurt me, okay? Just take it off for a while, hmm?'

  She turned towards him, her eyes flaring. 'No!' she shouted, and pushed him away. Norris rolled back, surprised. He edged his way out of bed, and looked back at Vanessa. She was still glaring at him, her body curled up like a cat ready to spring.

  'Fine,' he said. 'I can't cope when you're in a mood like this. I might as well go now.'

  She said nothing as he got dressed. He paused in the doorway. 'I'll call you tomorrow,' he said. 'I love you.'

  The sound of the car woke Tegan from her feverish sleep. Her mouth was dry, and she was sober enough to know she needed a drink of water or she would have a hangover the next day. She tugged on a T shirt Vanessa had lent her, and creaked down the stairs hoping she could remember the way to the kitchens. It was not until she had taken her third wrong turning that it occurred to her she could have got a glass of water from the bathroom.

  The corridor looked exactly like the way to the kitchen. It also looked exactly like the previous corridor. And the one before that. Neither of them had taken Tegan where she wanted or expected. This one was no exception. She exhaled loudly, and in desperation flung open a door she knew was not going to take her where she wanted to go.

  She was right. But as she stepped into the dark room to pull the door shut again, the pale light from the passageway fell across a bookcase just inside the room. Tegan stood poised on the threshold, and as her eyes adjusted
to the dark, she could see more bookcases and cabinets arranged around the walls. And the room smelled. It was a dry, musty smell. The smell of a place not dusty for years, and unoccupied for longer. Intrigued, Tegan felt round the wall inside the door until she found the light switch. The light seemed filtered through the specks of dust that hung in the air and Tegan's fingers were coated with a sheen of grimy black from the switch. The dust was catching in her dry throat now, and she was even more desperate for some water.

  She did not venture further into the room. As she had seen, bookcases lined the walls. The uncurtained windows were smeared with dirt and grime, reflecting an imperfect darkened image of the room back at Tegan. A murky image of herself stood poised in the doorway. The centre of the room was dominated by a large reading table like the one in the library. The rest of the floor space was almost covered with boxes and piles of magazines, journals and books. Everything was layered with dust.

  Tegan glanced along the nearest bookcase, reaching out and wiping the labels on the shelves. One had been attached with sticky tape that was now so yellow and brittle that it flaked away as Tegan's hand touched it. The label fluttered to the floor. But Tegan's attention was on the other labels and the titles of the books. One shelf was labelled: 'Jackson Laboratory (from 1929)'. One of the larger volumes on the shelf was titled The Lane List of Named Mutations and Alleles of Polymorphic Loci of the Mouse. Most of the others were too dusty to read the spines.

  Tegan looked down at the piles of papers and magazines. Here was a set of the Journal of the Reticuloendothelial Society. There was a pile topped by volume ten of the Revista Brasileira de Genetica. She shook her head and turned to leave.

  Her hand was on the light switch when she saw the rows of specimen jars. She was already in the process of turning out the light as she began to realize what the shapes floating inside the discoloured fluids might be.