Dr. Who - New Series S1

by The Coming of the Teraphiles # Michael Moorcock

  Chapter 13

  Bingo's Bit of a Bloomer

  SEEING SHE WAS STILL mystified, the Doctor looked at her in delight.

  'We've started the Fall,' he said again. ' The Fall!'

  And then she remembered being warned about what was

  happening.

  The nukes now damped off, they quickly achieved 'deep

  fall'. That meant they had positioned themselves above a so-

  called gravity well, a dangerous manoeuvre but commonly

  made by commercial ships. It would allow them to gather

  momentum from what these spacers called Little Rock, the

  local black hole, so small it was invisible to the naked eye, yet

  so dense as to be the gravitational core of the galaxy.

  Gravity remained the most mysterious power in the

  multiverse but they used it as casually as their ancestors

  had used electricity. Now Little Rock drew them

  downdowndowndowndowndowndown drew them down, drew

  them down towards its almost inconceivable mass. 'A glitch.

  he felt pinned. 'Can you feel it? Is it?f He felt sick. What was that?

  A glitch. Scritch the glitch? His memory was wrong His senses...

  Had he fallen asleep Why was he getting so much wrong?

  The Doctor's head cleared. What had happened in those

  few seconds?

  The red-brown and yellowish tanker had not been built to

  run on colour, that mysterious energy leaking through from

  the Second Aether. But she would repower long before she

  came anywhere near the Schwarzschild Radius. Meanwhile

  she used the latent and most mysterious energy in this

  universe to drag them 'down' to their next port, turning

  slowly, end over end to preserve her interior stability and

  keep her auxiliaries powered.

  Now their only vision of the great vastness of interstellar

  space came to them framed by their Vs. Hard experience

  had told them what happened if you did not lock down the

  portholes on an old ship (new ships lacked observation domes

  altogether). Most sentient creatures who tried to use an open

  observation dome, housing the majority of the ship's 'eyes',

  their viewing and registering instruments, found themselves

  staring into the near-infinite and going irredeemably mad.

  The Doctor yawned. The chances of being attacked in the

  space lanes were gone for the time being and everybody

  could relax. Or almost everybody.

  For a while he wrote calculations in tiny print in a little

  black notebook, his face twisting with the exertions of his

  massive brain. Drawing on life experiences denied most

  sentient creatures, he concentrated on the many complicated

  layers of existence, intratemporally occupying the same

  space, nesting one within the other, each generally invisible

  to the other.

  Only a few were blessed or damned with the Doctor's

  power to see the multiverse in all its vast, beautiful, bountiful,

  exotically coloured aspects, its glamouring glory. Those few

  knew how many truths could exist at once: the countless

  alternatives, the infinity of paradoxes, the billion twists of

  fate. That power only came with an understanding of how

  space could be a dimension of time, still hard for the average

  head to handle.

  That was why the Doctor could be so apparently nonchalant

  on occasions, frustratingly enjoying his insouciance, when

  other people were going mad with terror. The ancestors of

  the first interstellar human voyagers had been called Guide

  Sensors. They'd had the same talent as the Doctor. Sensors

  could plot courses through the cosmos others could not even

  detect. These were the people who had once mapped the

  multiverse and discovered another kind of space altogether.

  This 'other' space was known as the Second Aether. There

  were stories that the Doctor had actually named the region,

  but he always denied it.

  Of those who travelled on that tiny splinter of red and

  yellow turning gently end over end through space, only the

  Doctor could sense all the alternatives, weigh all the odds

  and therefore make decisions impossible for anyone else. But

  he, better than anyone, knew that he was not infallible. The

  risks were horrible.

  He slipped his notebook back into his pocket and seemed

  to be sleeping with a look of astonishing serenity on his

  face.

  Watching him, Amy found herself imagining him as a speck

  of glowing indigo, locked in a single stitch at the centre of a

  swirling, glittering, multicoloured tapestry representing all

  possible versions of all possible events, the alternate planes of

  the multiverse, beginning and ending in dimensions too vast

  or too tiny for the human senses to comprehend. How was it,

  wondered Amy, that ordinary creatures like herself could be

  aware of such vastness, almost beyond comprehension, and

  still remain sane, still be concerned about their fate?

  How could you take yourself and your own desires and ambitions

  seriously? Amy wanted to know. How could you expect to have any effect at all on major events? Then she shrugged as she

  had often shrugged before. The answer was, of course, very

  simple: in spite of your being so apparently insignificant,

  every action you or any other being took in the multiverse

  had meaning and effect, and was echoed in every other

  version of reality. Everyone was their own multiverse, just

  as the peak of Everest contained fragments that were models

  of the whole.

  A spec of indigo. A distant horn.

  In that wash of brilliantly coloured near-infinite geometry,

  reflecting on all the dangers which might threaten humanity,

  whose actions were mirrored and echoed almost to infinity,

  the Doctor, that twin-hearted, generous alien, had entered a

  world of near-infinite possibility. Amy did her best to imagine

  what he saw and all the possibilities of which he was aware.

  The Doctor was even now trying to work out the specifics

  of the threat against all the millions of worlds inhabited by

  intelligent species. He was doing what no computer could

  do. Not for the first time her heart went out to him, the last of

  his kind. He no longer had a single equal he could talk to.

  Yet she was pretty sure he relished his life more than he

  mourned it. If only she could follow him into those rich and

  solitary places. She could probably help him to help himself.

  But she knew much of her motive was to do with how she

  envied him and almost resented the fact that he would never

  be able to share his vision of the multiverse. Suddenly she

  felt shut out and alone. Would she ever see her old, ordinary,

  normal, shabby home world again?

  At that point she saw the captain galloping past, his hoofs

  muffled in huge, soft slippers. 'Anything wrong, captain?'

  He glanced back at her, his voice quiet and controlled.

  'Oh, we're falling faster than normal. Can't work it out. We

  need to slow her down a touch, that's all. No danger, Miss.

  Nothing for you to worry about'

  She was about to sneak off to her hammock in her own />
  quarters when she bumped into Bingo Lockesley whose

  effect on her self-esteem had, she was forced to tell herself,

  been putting her ego into double digits of late. Just the sight

  of him cheered her up.

  He had come in quietly. 'Is the Doctor snoozing?' he

  whispered.

  'Resting the mighty brain,' she told him.

  'Apparently that fireworks display wasn't anything to

  worry about,' Bingo informed her reassuringly. 'The ship

  has switched into what the captain calls "Fall mode". I keep

  thinking he's talking about girls' frocks. You know - "Spring

  fashions"?' He was clearly cheered by her response. 'It was

  almost like dreaming while awake. Felt like that to me,

  anyway! Nice to see you smiling again, what? Mind if I join

  you for a few minutes?'

  'Not at all.' She had to stop herself flirting with him to take

  their minds off all that had happened to them since they had

  boarded the water tanker. 'Have you had your tea?'

  His happy, innocent face cheered her up. 'Rather!' he

  declared.

  'Ah. I haven't.'

  'Oh, gosh. Neither have I. Or rather I mean. Tea! Sounds

  gripping.' He paused. 'Um, shouldn't we - I mean - you

  know, pop the Doctor into his hammock?'

  'He's hard to lift up,' she said. 'He tends to bend in the

  middle.'

  'Right-o. Leave him, then, shall we?'

  'Probably best,' she said. Amy suspected the Doctor had

  not picked that odd posture at random.

  They were halfway up the corridor when she found herself

  saying: 'So what do you think was in that hat?' And cursed

  herself for an idiot. She had planned to stay away from any

  serious conversation for a bit.

  'Contraband?'

  'Sure, that'll be it,' she said.

  'It would have to have been something very valuable,

  don't you think, eh? I mean, I can't see that General Force

  and his gang taking all those risks just for a bit of canny-

  canny or Jhivan honey.'

  'Oh, yes,' she said, reaching the battered TeezUp and

  selecting an Assam no milk/no sugar. She loved these retro-

  nouveaux gadgets. They had the strangest appeal. She held

  the big china cup in both hands and sipped while Bingo went

  off to look for tokens so that he could buy her a bun.

  She was wondering if the Doctor knew more than he was

  telling. There were still a few mysteries to be solved.

  Bingo returned in triumph, buns in hand. And before he

  could sit down she had a question for him.

  'Flapper's ma still has her hat with her, doesn't she?'

  'Oh, of course, of course. Got it from Uncle - from the IM

  - almost as soon as it was found.'

  'Nothing was missing?'

  'Mrs Banning-Cannon checked all that out and was

  satisfied. It was messed up, that's all. I know. And Mr

  Banning-Cannon said it was just as hideous and stomach

  churning as it had always been.'

  'He hated it that much?'

  'Absolutely. Loathed it. Gave him the willies.'

  'Something about it?'

  'Said it reminded him of spiders.'

  'But there weren't any spiders on it, surely? I mean, did

  Diana of Loondoon have a Hat of the Arachne line?' Why, why,

  why didn't she have the common sense to stop asking questions?

  Bingo found this amusing. He laughed a little too long

  and hard for his own ears and began to wonder if he was in

  danger of giving himself away. He was relieved when Mr

  Banning-Cannon turned up.

  'Ah, there you are, sir!' Bingo cried. 'Everything tickety-

  boo?'

  'Eh? Oh, certainly. Never been ticketier or more boo.' The

  great patriarch was in high spirits. The return of his wife's

  hat and the fact that all suspicion was now focused on Frank/

  Freddie Force had relieved him of most of his worries. He

  was humming to himself, pottering about in a bit of a reverie.

  His wife was no longer, as he put it, 'on his case' and his

  daughter was in love with his wife's choice - hang on!

  'Hang on,' he said. 'Aren't you the young chap our

  Flapper's got her eye on?'

  'Oh, gosh, no, sir. You must be thinking of Hari Agincourt.

  He's the bloke sweet on Flapper. I'm - I mean - she's - that is

  - Oh, cripes!' And Bingo again gave his celebrated impression

  of a stop light. He had forgotten that Hari had specifically

  asked him to say nothing until he had his promised job back

  on Knots nee Peer™.

  Mr Banning-Cannon couldn't face another drama.

  'This chap any sort of Lord or such, like yourself?'

  'You mean a member of the Peer Age, sir?'

  'If that's what you are?'

  'No, sir.'

  'No? Oh, Lor',' Mr Banning-Cannon's eyes took on their

  old hunted look. 'Not an aristo?'

  'He will be, sir. Now the planet's mine, I intend to make a

  few changes, and one of the first is to restore the monarchy

  and the peerage. I could do it now, I suppose, but it would

  be nicer to have a ceremony of some sort. Hari, for services

  to his planet, will definitely be knighted, sir, but my guess is

  hell receive an earldom before Yule.'

  'Is that what you've got?'

  'An earldom? Yes, sir.'

  'And what's this "Yule"?'

  'Yule's a kind of log, sir.'

  'Really? Then everything will be fine. Bit o' money goes

  with that, eh?'

  'Fishing rights, touring rights, renaissance and re-

  enactment rights. All of that, sir.'

  'Splendid. So all's well that ends well, it looks like, right?'

  'Spot on, sir.' Beaming, Bingo let his hand be shaken

  chirpily by Mr Banning-Cannon.

  He turned to share his pleasure with Amy.

  But she had gone, hotfooting it back to her quarters.

  Bingo frowned. 'Must have been something I said,' he

  opined. And returned, a little fuddled, to the cabin he shared

  with Hari and Co.

  Chapter 14

  All Changed

  THE SPACEPORT ON DESIREE was so vast it occupied half the land

  surface of the planet. Coming to rest on the very edge of Left

  Field, as it was called, the passengers eagerly unstrapped

  themselves from their harnesses and, while they waited for

  Customs and Immigration, crowded up to the observation

  dome, no longer out of bounds.

  The Doctor hadn't been to Desiree for many years and he

  remained deeply impressed. The spaceport offered an endless

  landscape of ships. Ships stood beside fuelling and repair

  derricks, their prows pointing proudly into the loud and

  glaring sky. Ships lay at anchor above and below the clouds,

  or within the clouds, their hulls sparkling with unnameable

  radiations, or pouring blue, purple and green smoke into the

  disturbed atmosphere, coiling to mix with the subtler shades

  of lavender, dove grey, pale green and liquid blue torn by

  constant lightning storms in its upper reaches.

  The huge yellow moon with its silvery red rings was

  clearly visible on the horizon, silhouetting the slender golden

  snub-nosed Graham-White superfast interceptor rockets of

  the
IPC, sporting beautifully tapered stabilising wings and

  festooned with bulbous gun turrets. These were dwarfed by

  tall, asymmetrical djonkers ships, flown by bots and crewed

  by Ramimeds, capable of surviving without air for hours at

  a time and needing little sleep. The long-run spacers could

  cross from one galaxy to another but were unable to carry

  living creatures other than Ramimeds, whose home planet

  spun about a sunless region of the galaxy and was essentially

  a giant comet. Between these flew buzzing tenders, loading

  and unloading, bringing passengers off or putting them on.

  Hari Agincourt, with Flapper beside him, pointed excitedly

  at ships he recognised.

  'Look, Flapper, that's a giant De Havilland! And there's

  a Dumont F-22! That's a modified Farnsworth Wright and

  Wright. Gosh, that's a Judoon interceptor. A double-hulled

  Ban'sh star cruiser. An old Comer ring-rider. An M-type

  Galinax. A Vickers 12-30M. This is amazing. I never thought

  I'd see any of these in real life. I have the I-Spy Vs, of course.

  Oh, wow!'

  Flapper did her best to seem interested but she was

  beginning to long for a few hours' solitude and a nice bit

  of good escapist V-fiction. Love covered many a well-earned

  yawn.

  She had to admit the sight was stunning, though. There

  were squat ships and circular ships, brightly coloured ships

  and severe black, white and grey ships, ships made to

  resemble birds or giant fish; there were ships which seemed

  spun from spiders' webs and hung with silvery droplets of

  dew, ships so massive they looked as if they would sink into

  the super-reinforced concrete of their pads. A million shades

  of metal flashed and clashed in the crowded port. Peoples of

  every race and manufacture walked between the gantries or

  sailed above them in open air-cars leaking colour. And when

  the atmosphere testers came on, the new arrivals were hit by

  a sea of scents out of which it was possible to detect burning

  metal, fuels of every kind, plants, bodies, cooking food, the

  life-gasses of a thousand worlds.

  'Atrocious!' Flapper's mother put a handkerchief to her

  mouth and nose. 'Why do the authorities permit this stink?'

  'Believe it or not,' Captain N'hn stopped at the open door,

  swinging a bag over his shoulder, 'it used to be worse. They

  have planetary deodorisers on full blast and air conditioning

  at every major subfield. See those funnels of smoke at intervals