Doctor Who: Dreams of Empire: 50th Anniversary Edition

by Richards, Justin

  ‘Aye,’ came Jamie’s sarcastic murmur as he followed them out of the Banqueting Hall. ‘Fascinating.’

  Somewhere in the velvet blackness of the ninth sector, a tiny light gleamed alone in the dark. The vague light of a distant star system shone faintly on the gunmetal fuselage of the craft as it continued on its preset course.

  Within the craft, readings were constantly checked against flight tables and navigation charts. Weapons systems constantly ran integrity checks, as untiring and ceaselessly patient as the ship’s occupants.

  On the main screen, the Commander watched through cold unblinking vision inputs as a small luminous blip showed the ship’s position along its planned flight path. The path itself was an arcing line of brilliant white, cutting across solar systems and making minor concessions for a black hole in its mechanistically efficient track towards its target.

  As soon as the Doctor asked about the surveillance system, Trayx had motioned him to silence and dismissed the guards.

  ‘So,’ the Doctor said when they were alone in the hall, ‘not everyone knows that they are observed and monitored the whole time.’

  Trayx smiled thinly. ‘If only that were the case, Doctor.’ He drained his wine and set the goblet down on the table. ‘The reality is far from the promise of the systems when they were installed. Just as the reason for it is now but a slight excuse.’

  ‘Yes, I gather you’re having some problems.’

  ‘The system’s on its last legs. Nearly half of the cameras have packed up, and the microphones would have us believe that most rooms in this fortress are filled with hiss and static.’ He shook his head. ‘In truth, we rarely use the surveillance systems now. It never really worked anyway. Only the Warden, myself and a few others officially know of it, though everyone else has guessed by now. And even with the expert systems that filter the input so that we only need to see and hear certain portions of life within these walls, there is too much data for us to assimilate.’

  ‘And what,’ the Doctor asked, ‘is that data for?’

  ‘The intention was to keep Kesar and his men under surveillance in case they planned to escape, to send for help or try to foster support among the garrison.’

  ‘And I take it you never expected they would.’

  Trayx shook his head. ‘An overcautious approach forced on us by a paranoid oversight committee of the Senate,’ he said. ‘But Consul Mathesohn and his cronies are terrified that Kesar will escape and rally his forces against them.’

  ‘You don’t share his concern?’ the Doctor asked.

  Trayx laughed, a short humourless burst of sound.

  ‘But now,’ the Doctor went on, ‘there has been a murder. Was that captured on your surveillance system?’ He stepped up to Trayx, looked up at the tall man. ‘Is that why you are so convinced that we are not to blame?’

  Trayx looked down at the Doctor. He seemed to consider for a moment. Then he said, ‘I don’t know who you are, Doctor. I don’t know where you come from. I don’t know your name even. And I confess that I am expecting a stranger to appear here. That is why I have come. But I do not think that you are he.’

  ‘No?’

  Trayx shook his head. ‘No. But despite your improbable appearance and your incredible story of how you arrived,’ he said, ‘for some reason I trust you.’

  The Doctor laughed, his face becoming one huge grin as his mouth stretched and his eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, thank you.’

  ‘Come with me,’ Trayx said, suddenly turning on his heel and striding towards the door.

  ‘With you? Where to?’

  He paused in the doorway. ‘To watch a murder,’ he said.

  *

  Jamie was bored. He wandered listlessly round the room, only half listening to what Prion was telling Victoria about Kesar and Trayx and their background history. He felt he should be doing something, although he was not sure what. But there was a murder to solve and probably several other mysteries that the Doctor had identified lurking below the surface.

  And now the Doctor was off somewhere with Trayx, and he was left with Victoria and Prion – who seemed set to lecture them on Haddron history for the next hour or more.

  ‘Whereas Trayx joined the military,’ Prion was saying, ‘Kesar stood for public office and built his career along political lines. He was governor of a minor colony, but won a reputation for political acumen and perspicacity. Trayx meanwhile commanded the Second Legion at Tolokabad, and that was enough to secure his promotion to general.’

  ‘Tolokabad was a battle?’ Victoria asked.

  ‘A great battle,’ Prion replied as if reading from a book. ‘Lieutenant Milton Trayx took command of the legion and had his colonel arrested for dishonouring Haddron when he tried to retreat. Tolokabad was a frontier post. It came under siege from the Mezzanyre Hordes. The legion was outnumbered five to one and it was obvious that the post would fall.’

  ‘So what happened?’ Jamie asked, interested despite himself. Battles and wars were something he could understand in this world of paradoxes and contradictions.

  ‘Trayx attacked the Hordes’ lead ship with the last of his frigates. The death of their leader in this attack left the Hordes in disarray. Trayx kept his forces focused and disciplined despite the odds. The enemy was routed and the hold of the Mezzanyre in the quadrant was broken for ever.’ There was no hint of pride or satisfaction in Prion’s voice as he spoke, and Jamie could imagine the similarly disciplined troops under Trayx marching forward against their terrified enemy. ‘Trayx was promoted to general immediately. Within three years he was General in Chief. His election as Consul was a formality.’

  The Observation Room was a distinct contrast to the medieval splendour of the rest of the fortress. The whole area was jammed full of technology. One wall was lined from floor to ceiling with monitor screens showing flickering images of life within the fortress. Digital recording devices stretched along another wall, while the computer that hosted the expert monitoring system stood, as plain as it was efficient, in a corner. Cables that had once been fixed in place had broken free of their brackets and trailed in snakes down the walls and across the floor, looping in and out of the functional furniture.

  The Doctor watched as Trayx and Warden Mithrael adjusted various controls.

  Mithrael tapped one of the monitors. ‘I’ll relay the recording to this one.’

  Trayx and the Doctor both watched intently as the image on the screen changed from an empty corridor into a darkened room. As they watched, a cloaked figure stepped from the shadows, its face hidden beneath the cowl of the heavy cloak it wore. The camera tracked the movement carefully, the picture sharpening and brightening as the systems adjusted for the dim light. For the briefest moment, as the figure turned slightly, his face became visible. The picture froze, the features of the man smeared across the screen.

  ‘I’ve programmed it to hold at that point,’ Mithrael said quietly. ‘As you can see, it’s Remas.’

  ‘The dead man?’

  ‘Yes, Doctor.’

  ‘Go on,’ Trayx said, and Mithrael punched a key on the console in front of him.

  The figure completed its turn, face once more obscured. Then another shadowy figure entered from the corridor. The figure’s movements were rapid and controlled. The man – if it was a man beneath the dark cloak – stepped in front of the camera and raised his hand. A small metal object in the gloved hand gleamed for a moment in the flickering light. Then the image abruptly exploded into a storm of static and white noise.

  The Doctor tapped his chin thoughtfully. ‘I assume you know who was in this fortress at the time.’

  ‘We’re not sure exactly when you arrived,’ Trayx said, ‘but otherwise, yes.’

  ‘And how do you know that’s not one of us?’

  Mithrael laughed. ‘You’d have to be walking with bricks strapped to your shoes for one thing.’

  ‘And for another,’ Trayx said, ‘we have studied your reactions and comments when you found the
body.’

  ‘Playing for the camera?’ the Doctor suggested.

  ‘I don’t think so. You might be up to that, but the boy and the young woman…’ Trayx shook his head. ‘I think not.’

  ‘So the question is,’ the Doctor said, ‘who remains unaccounted for at that time?’

  ‘And the answer,’ Trayx said, ‘is that nobody is unaccounted for.’

  The Doctor was somehow seated where Mithrael had been a moment earlier, examining the controls and playing back the recording once more. ‘I thought you said only about half the cameras are working.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Mithrael answered. ‘But we can eliminate those in direct sight, and the expert system can track the positions of others by where they leave surveillance and where and when they re-enter it.’

  ‘Plus it was at night,’ Trayx said. ‘All Kesar’s men are locked within the Secure Area at night. Given the cameras that do still function, we know which corridors the murderer must have traversed to arrive at the scene unnoticed.’

  ‘And you can eliminate everyone who could get to those corridors?’

  ‘Everyone.’

  ‘By direct sight?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mithrael said.

  ‘No,’ Trayx corrected him. ‘Not quite. But good enough. Show him.’

  Mithrael leaned over the Doctor’s shoulder and operated a control. ‘This isn’t all of them, but here are a couple of examples of the way the system has eliminated some of those out of direct line of sight.’

  The image on the screen switched to a high-angle view of a kitchen area. There was nobody in sight, but the noise of pans crashing together could be heard above the sound of someone whistling.

  ‘The galley chef,’ Mithrael explained, ‘preparing breakfast. He is out of vision for ten minutes around the time of the murder. But he can be heard the whole while.’

  ‘And,’ Trayx said, ‘the only exits from that area necessitate his crossing the camera’s line of sight.’

  ‘Which he did not do.’

  Mithrael leaned forward again. ‘There are several similar examples,’ he said. ‘Some of the sleeping areas and all the personal washrooms are not monitored, but typically have only one door, which is covered.’

  The screen changed again. This time it showed the masked figure of Kesar, standing beside a chessboard. The board floated in the air before him, shimmering slightly even on the camera image, so that it was obvious that it did not really exist in a physical sense.

  ‘The camera in Cruger’s study is not operational,’ Mithrael explained. ‘But from his console there he is playing chess against Kesar. They do this most nights.’

  The Doctor examined the image on the screen. ‘And does Kesar always win?’ he asked. ‘It looks like he has the upper hand.’

  ‘He usually wins,’ Trayx said.

  ‘In this case,’ Mithrael said as he switched off the image, ‘Cruger refused to submit. He played on well after it was obvious he would lose.’

  ‘He is stubborn and proud,’ Trayx said.

  ‘That may be,’ the Doctor said quietly. ‘But you’re still left with the problem that someone here is a murderer.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘Have you considered the motive?’

  ‘This murder is something of a mystery,’ Trayx admitted. ‘But I believe the ultimate goal of our killer is to assassinate Hans Kesar.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PREPARED VARIATION

  THE IMAGES FROM the screens sent shadows skitting across the Doctor’s face as he turned towards Milton Trayx. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asked quietly.

  Trayx nodded. ‘As I have already said, Doctor, I cannot allow Kesar to die.’

  ‘But you have reason to believe that there are others who do not share your concerns.’

  Trayx pulled up one of the chairs and sat down. ‘There have already been three attempts on Kesar’s life since he was sent here.’

  Mithrael coughed politely. ‘Four, sir.’

  Trayx shrugged. ‘Whatever. They daren’t kill him outright. Or at least, not until now.’

  ‘So what has changed?’

  ‘Perhaps nothing but their bravado and confidence. But there are rumours that supporters of Kesar are once again trying to build a power base. There is growing dissent at home, an increasing concern that Haddron is faltering, is ailing and sick. Economically, that’s not far from the truth. The civil war cost us more dearly than the men and munitions that were expended, cut deeper than the personal losses. Economically, we are on the verge of collapse. Many people now see Hans Kesar as the only person with the ambition, the drive and the personality to lead us through the crisis.’

  ‘So Kesar is rallying his supporters again?’ The Doctor nodded – it seemed likely.

  ‘Not Kesar,’ Trayx said quietly. ‘He knows it is over. But some of his allies…’

  ‘And his enemies are more afraid of this growing support than they are of creating a martyr.’

  Trayx nodded. ‘I’m afraid that we may end up with both, the one fuelling the other.’

  ‘Until now,’ Mithrael said, ‘their attempts on Kesar’s life have been surreptitious. An apparent accident here, a possible mishap there. En route to this fortress, the cruiser bringing Kesar was almost hit by an asteroid. The asteroid had signs of fusion burns on the obverse side.’

  ‘As if someone had blasted it out of its previous position and sent it into the path of the ship,’ Trayx finished. ‘More imaginative, though rather less subtle, was when they fused a layer of amphesite into the optical discs of a history gazette Kesar receives each month.’

  The Doctor frowned. ‘Nasty,’ he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. Amphesite was a mild poison. In small doses it was undetectable, but prolonged exposure to it as it evaporated from between the layers of the disc would bring on first mild paralysis, and then brain damage and death.

  ‘But now they are getting desperate,’ Trayx continued. ‘I too have my sources of information. And while I don’t yet have enough proof to impeach Mathesohn and the others I suspect –’ He broke off, the shadow of a smile on his lips. ‘I don’t suspect, Doctor. I know. But I don’t yet have proof. And my sources tell me that these latest rumours have driven them to take extreme measures.’

  ‘They’ve sent an assassin,’ the Doctor said.

  Trayx nodded. ‘So I am told. Whether he was here already or has somehow been shipped in, I don’t know. But the death of Remas, at such a time…’

  ‘It’s no coincidence,’ the Doctor agreed. He cleared his throat and steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. ‘And what makes you so sure that my friends and I are not the assassins?’ As he started to speak, one of his elbows slipped off the armrest, pulling his interlocked hands down as well. He finished speaking while hunched awkwardly to one side, as if hoping they wouldn’t notice.

  Mithrael looked at Trayx, and he nodded. The Warden reached round the Doctor, who was trying to disentangle his fingers, sit upright, and turn to see what Mithrael was up to all at the same time. The Warden touched a control and the main screen shimmered into life once more.

  The image on the screen was of the suite of rooms allocated to the Doctor and his companions. Jamie was lying on a bed, Victoria sitting at a desk nearby. The Doctor was wandering seemingly aimlessly through the rooms. Several other screens were now showing other aspects of the same scene.

  ‘Ah,’ the Doctor mused as he watched himself brandish a handful of handkerchiefs.

  They watched as the Doctor tore down the tapestry and held it over a patch of wall. As the Doctor scampered round the room with his hankies, other screens blanked out, until only the main view – a high shot of the room – remained. It gave a good view of the Doctor’s acrobatics from the chair on the bed as he tried to pitch a handkerchief over the camera concealed in the chandelier.

  ‘What are you implying?’ the Doctor asked when his antics finally ended with the last camera blanking out.

  ‘No disrespe
ct, Doctor,’ Trayx said, failing to conceal his smile, ‘but I know the people I am up against. Their assassin will be a consummate professional.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘And we know he has a device which induces an apparent fault in the surveillance system.’

  ‘Ah,’ the Doctor latched on to this. ‘You’re saying that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to have held it up in front of the camera for everyone to see.’

  ‘I’m saying you would have used that in your own rooms, perhaps selectively to establish a safe zone, rather than indulge in these rather obvious manoeuvres.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ the Doctor said glumly, ‘I suppose that’s all right then. I thought for a moment there that you were implying we weren’t terribly professional.’

  Trayx coughed. ‘Nonsense, Doctor. I can already see that you are at the very least a gifted amateur.’

  The Doctor turned suddenly, his eyes meeting Trayx’s with an intensity that made the General in Chief blink. There was a remarkable depth to the Doctor’s gaze that somehow had been absent just moments earlier. His voice too had acquired an edge as he said quietly, ‘No, I am not a gifted amateur, as you put it. Rather I am an absolute professional in fields that your people do not yet even count among the professions.’ Then just as suddenly the depth and the seriousness were gone. The Doctor’s eyes seemed to mist over, and his mouth turned down slightly. ‘But I think you had made your mind up before my shenanigans with the cameras, hadn’t you?’

  ‘I must confess, my instincts told me when I spoke with the girl, Victoria, that you were unlikely to cause us undue trouble.’ Trayx stood up. ‘And you have already passed up a near perfect opportunity to kill Kesar when you were alone with him and Cruger.’

  ‘So I take it we really are your guests, then.’

  Trayx smiled, motioning Mithrael to open the door. ‘Let me give you a short tour of Santespri, Doctor,’ he said.

  The Doctor leapt to his feet. ‘Oh yes,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘I shall enjoy that.’ He rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he followed Trayx from the Observation Room.