The Coming of the Teraphiles

by Michael Moorcock

  will be permitted to go on about their business. My guess is

  that the investigation will take a little longer.'

  'But,' said Bingo, 'that can't be!'

  'I fear it is going to have to be. It shouldn't be too much of

  a problem. As far as we can tell, no strange ship left here last

  night or this morning. The shuttle is, regrettably, cancelled,

  of course, but another craft should be along in a week or two

  and I'm reliably informed that all passengers on the Gargantua

  will be offered similar berths on the Gigantique, her sister

  ship. Terraphiles and customers on the Historical Tour will

  not be charged any extra, since this comes under the terms

  of the insurance taken out on booking the tickets. Passage

  will simply be transferred for everyone else. No one will be

  out of pocket. Luckily, there are plenty of seats available on

  the Gigantique and, since she's a sister ship of the Gargantua, there will be no change of amenities.'

  Bingo was shaking his head. 'No, no, no, no,' he said. 'Not

  a chance. Don't you understand?'

  'I understand that the Law must take her course,' declared

  his uncle, a little grimly.

  'I think what your nephew is trying to let us know,' said

  the Doctor, getting up from the table and dabbing at the

  corners of his mouth with the ends of his napkin, 'is that

  the Gargantua is due to dock above the planet Flynn in the

  Miggea system on the Sagittarian Rim in time for our team to

  play the final games in the Great Tournament. The Gigantique

  will arrive in Miggea about three weeks too late to play the

  Tournament! This means little, I know, to the average traveller

  who might otherwise be delighted at the chance of spending

  another fortnight or so on this lovely and picturesque planet,

  but for those of us anxious to get our first crack in a quarter

  of a millennium at the famous and mysterious Silver Arrer,

  it's pretty bad news. The Tourists, who did not accept Lord

  Sherwood's kind invitation to stay here, will merely have to

  play the Visitors. You take my meaning?'

  'Hmm,' said Sir Rupoldo, upon whom the full import of

  the news was in fact dawning. 'I do indeed. This is pretty

  frightful, I have to say. I mean, we were very much expecting

  to win the Arrer back from the Tourists this time. Oh, I

  say, gosh!' He pondered this for a moment. 'Oh, this is a

  calamity.' He turned to a mystified Mrs Banning-Cannon. 'I

  don't suppose you'd be willing, dear lady, to postpone this

  investigation on the word of the Toumamentors that they'll

  return here once...' Her expression went a little further than

  merely answering this question for him. 'Ah, well, no, I see

  you're rather determined...'

  He cast a pleading look around the room at the team, at

  anyone else who might help, at pretty much every creature,

  alien or human, present. 'Or that whomever pinched the darn

  - the valuable hat - would own up to the theft on the chance

  that Mrs Banning-Cannon would kindly drop charges...'

  'Certainly not!' snarled that formidable lady. 'I did not

  think I would have to remind everyone that my husband's

  company owns this planet.'

  At which all involved gave vent to what could only be

  described as a collective groan.

  Chapter 7

  A Close Study of Timetables

  I N WHICH CASE, I'LL bid you good morning!' exclaimed the officer,

  his kindly face full of concern. 'I have to say, young Bingo -

  Lord Sherwood - what a shame this is and how we are going

  to be unable to enjoy the final friendly game in the Gentlemen

  versus Tourists match, but worse than that how utterly sick-

  making it is that our own great team is to lose its crack at the

  ancient Arrer. This puts a wholly different character on the

  situation. One might almost think our rivals pulled this stunt

  merely to keep us out of the matches. This is a bad day for

  our tournament, gentlemen. Bad indeed.'

  'Not a great one for those of us who take their millinery

  seriously, either,' declared Mrs B-C, attempting to get some

  perspective on the situation.

  They all stared at her in frank astonishment. H'hn'ee, the

  centaur put down his bucket of cereal and tried to stop his

  hoof from stamping heavily on the carpet. He had worn his

  special indoor slippers, of course, but his hoofs still made a

  bit of a noise. Equally, his neighbour, a Judoon, heard himself

  issue a noisy snort.

  'By the Medici Stars!' exclaimed Uff Nuf O'Kay, the canine

  wotsit keeper. 'If I could get my teeth into whatever catty—'

  He realised that Masher Dubloon, the skunkoid fielder, was

  sitting across from him. 'I mean whatever rotter...'

  Masher looked up with a quiet smile. 'Perhaps we should

  all put our hands into our pockets and come up with a reward

  for the hat's return?'

  This was a dig at O'Kay, who was notoriously tight-fisted.

  But Mrs Banning-Cannon found the idea attractive.

  'I am certainly prepared to pay a ransom.'

  The Magistrate-Inspector, who was leaving the dining

  room, paused for a moment and then continued on, as if he

  had heard nothing. While he would normally hold the law to

  be above such offers, he would have allowed almost anything

  that helped restore Mrs B-C's hat and allowed the Gentlemen

  to continue on their way aboard the Gargantua.

  The Doctor and Amy were peering approvingly out of

  the wide windows at the castle's wonderful lawn which

  fanned confidently down to pretty much the entire catalogue

  of colourful and aromatic flowers, rising in serried ranks as

  far as the first line of blooming cedars and giant marigold

  borders near the edge of the ornamental lake. Under a warm

  sun, the water glittered like polished steel.

  'I'd almost imagined we'd been sabotaged,' murmured the

  Doctor to his friend. 'It's crucial for us to get to Flynn and win

  that Arrow or who knows what havoc Frank/Freddie Force

  and his mirthless Antimatter Men will create? I wonder if the

  thieves have any idea what they are doing.'

  'Well, Doctor, you haven't exactly filled me in with any

  further details.'

  He turned away from the view. 'I don't think I can yet.

  All I know is what I was told. And I'm not entirely one

  hundred per cent sure of that...' Then addressing the other

  breakfasters he said:

  'I think paying a ransom's an excellent idea. It might have

  to be a pretty big sum, though.'

  'I'll put in a million,' offered Mr Banning-Cannon. He, at

  least, was safe in knowing what the hat was worth on the

  market.

  There came a chorus of offers for various amounts.

  'We should bear in mind,' the Doctor pointed out, 'that the

  culprit is almost certainly one of us and could have used some

  sort of timemobile to steal the hat. Or an anti-gravity device,

  which would be obvious from its characteristic smell.'

  'Anti-gravity?' croaked Mr Banning-Cannon unable to

  resist darting a quick, enquiring glance at Lord Sherwood. />
  'And this smell? Why so?'

  'It's a bit like... burnt seawater. It's characteristic of

  displaced tempelectrons - the smell given off by most devices

  employing anti-gravity.' The Doctor moved into the middle

  of the room. 'We know that the hat was especially heavy

  and could only sit easily on Mrs Banning-Cannon's head

  if it had the necessary anti-gravity device set in its crown. I

  assume the thief knew this and so sneaked into Mrs Banning-

  Cannon's boudoir armed with one of those hand-held things

  they use to stock shelves in those big DIY stores. You know

  - you must have seen them. No? Anyway, never mind. Then,

  having guided it to an open window, he could have used the

  "floater", as they're called in the trade, to manipulate the hat in its hatbox out of the window to a waiting accomplice. A

  light air-car could have been standing by to receive it, and

  Bob's your uncle.'

  'Eh?' Bingo looked up startled. 'Uncle Bob?'

  'Gosh, that's amazing!' exclaimed Hari Agincourt. 'Brilliant

  powers of deduction, Doctor, I have to say. But now we need

  to know who had the resources. Anti-grav operators aren't

  cheap and neither are air-cars. If it's off-planet that means

  someone or some company got it there, so it's unlikely to be

  the work of just an ordinary sort of cracksman. Yet they would

  not have been able to move in and out of the place without

  raising an alarm if they weren't known to the household, and

  as you know we all went through recognition checks with

  the android staff when we got here. Nobody missed a check,

  did they, Mullers?' He turned to the android butler.

  'All guests were introduced to staff, sir,' the dignified and

  kindly android became operational only when addressed.

  And both staff and guests were all accounted for. A

  breakdown of that system hardly seems likely, sir.'

  'Anyway,' the Doctor became animated. Amy loved it

  when he brought his detective skills into play. 'That's almost

  certainly how it was moved. But how and where is the thing

  hidden? Well, unfortunately that's a lot harder to work out. So

  we have to work out who to work out where. Motive? OK, the

  hat's valuable, but there are loads of valuable things around

  here to steal. So why pinch it? It's not the most portable object,

  is it? So, let's assume there's no specific financial motive - in

  which case we're back at the fundamental question.'

  'Which is?' Mr B-C prompted.

  'Why would someone pinch a hat?'

  'It's an original!' declared Mrs B-C. 'A Diana of Loondoon

  original! No two are alike. I can think of several collectors

  who would give a fortune to own one they don't have.

  They're like antique paintings. In fact, Diana included an

  entire original Rembrandt print in one of her latest models.

  She's an artist. The Rembrandts became her trademark for

  a while. At other times she used Picasso, Emin, Coca Colon

  - all now in museums. She takes whatever materials inspire

  her, although I believe the "Phobos" life-size hat she made

  for Lady Mars was commissioned. Many considered that

  ultra-vulgar. I don't know. Perhaps it is, a little. It could only

  be worn with the help of six anti-gravs, not one. Happily

  this wasn't the real Phobos, which long ago crashed to the

  surface of Old Barsoom.' She almost smote her forehead as

  inspiration dawned on her like sunrise over the Pink Alps of

  Caladon.

  'Lady M is so competitive - of course!' Mrs Banning-

  Cannon sat up suddenly, knocking over a glass of Vortex

  Water. 'She could have stolen it. She's rich enough. She owns

  Intergalactic Air. We can't move to make an Earth-like planet

  without their atmosphere plants.'

  'Did she want that hat?' asked the Doctor, sounding

  slightly surprised.

  'Oh, you know, we're great rivals.' Her mascaraed eyes

  became two small black slugs as Mrs Banning-Cannon eased

  her features into the semblance of a smile. Her lip gloss

  gleamed like fresh blood. 'But she would have to wear it,

  wouldn't she? I mean, that's what hats are all about, becoming

  a talking point. So all she could do is spend her money on

  another Diana creation. That's how I'd challenge her and I'm

  certain that it's how she'd challenge me. Perhaps it was stolen

  for the precious stones and metals...'

  'Except,' said the Doctor, 'a job of this kind just wouldn't

  be profitable to an ordinary thief. Even if the equipment were

  hired, you'd only just about break even. And if the anti-grav

  stuff and shuttles were factored in, it would still be running

  at a loss. No, I think there's something else going on here.'

  'Doctor, if we can't get the hat back in less than twenty-

  four hours, we're done for.' Hari Agincourt was striding up

  and down beside the long breakfast sideboard. Clearly he

  was highly agitated about the chance of never playing the

  match. 'You saw them, Bingo. Any ideas?'

  'Um,' said Bingo. 'Wish I could say I had actually seen

  'em. But little more than a glance...'

  'I was out of the room for less than five minutes, Lord

  Sherwood.' Mrs Banning-Cannon could not find it in herself

  to speak harshly to the young man she had selected for her

  future son-in-law. 'You heard something, surely?'

  'Um. Yes. I heard a sort of hissing noise. Like a cobra, you

  know, or one of the larger vipers and I-I.. .'

  'Presumably you made a dash through the connecting

  rooms and were just in time to - to...' the Doctor coaxed.

  'To look for them. They must have been hiding. But when

  I turned round they...'

  'They were heading back towards your rooms? So you

  gave chase and they escaped through your window,' Flapper

  Banning-Cannon kindly reminded him. Her own private

  theory was that poor Bingo had over-exerted himself on her

  behalf and was now having to deal with his friend Hari's hurt

  dislike because Hari had refused to understand that Bingo

  had simply been recruited by Flapper as a kind of stalking

  horse - or did she mean sacrificial goat - or, no, it was some

  other sort of goat - a sheep, maybe? A Judas lamb? Was that

  it? Ah, well. It would either come to her or it wouldn't. She

  uttered the jaunty sigh of a girl who viewed her educational

  opportunities as having had to be endured as politely as

  possible; now they were behind her, she felt that they could

  call quits and go their separate ways.

  'Absolutely right,' said Bingo gratefully. 'Pretty much

  exactly how it went.' He darted Flapper a look which to her

  said 'Thanks for being a pal', but which to Hari said 'You do

  this because we're in love'.

  'The hat and its box were still there?' asked the Doctor.

  'No. That's the funny thing,' said Bingo, conscious of the

  close attention he was receiving from both Banning-Cannons

  and the Doctor and glad to be able to tell the truth. 'I didn't

  see it anywhere!'

  'So while you checked the other rooms of Mrs Banning-

  Cannon's suite, they made thei
r escape with the hat?'

  suggested Flapper.

  At this, Hari turned his back to them and stared ferociously

  out of the window at a lawn and a lake which must have

  been wondering what they had done to inspire such ire.

  'Pretty much about it, Doctor, yes.' Inwardly Bingo was

  writhing, aware that because of his own selfishness in taking

  Mr Banning-Cannon up on his offer, he had let down his

  own side with a vengeance. Also, he had let down Hari. And

  Flapper. Given different circumstances he might have begun

  keening wildly but he was of old English stock. He contented

  himself by keening silently within.

  If only he had thought of the consequences for a moment!

  He wanted so badly to tell the truth. He had scarcely told a

  lie since he was 7, when he had pinched a jar of strawberry

  jam from the kitchen cupboard then tried to blame Cook and

  a housemaid for the crime, forgetting that, since both were

  androids, they had no taste for human food at all. He shut

  his mouth tightly when he remembered that moment. He

  ought to have realised then that he didn't have the brains

  or personality to be a master crook. And now his story

  was thinner than a Copernican gas cloud. If it weren't for

  Mr Banning-Cannon backing him up and the Doctor also

  apparently trying to help him out, he would have been up

  the creek and crying for a paddle. As it was, he could see

  himself making all sorts of slips when actually talking to the

  peelers. He shuddered. Not only would he lose Lockesley

  Hall, he would spend years on a prison planet pumping

  water for the tankers of Aqua Supplies to sell for vast profits

  to the mining worlds and the desert planets which were not

  worth terraforming.

  In a different set of circumstances, his best friend Hari

  would have sensed his anxiety by now and come to stand

  beside him, but Hari was standing meaningfully elsewhere.

  At the far end of the room.

  Bingo would have confessed everything if it would have

  done any good. The fact was there was little to confess. He

  hadn't stolen the bally hat. All he was guilty of was planning

  to steal the hat. If other thieves hadn't actually pipped him,

  he would, of course, have something to tell all those people

  who now stood facing him and whose lives he hadn't actually

  ruined. Some other rotter had done that. He wished he could