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    The Coming of the Teraphiles

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      outer bulkhead. 'Very well, Doctor. Very well.' His tone was

      suddenly measured, cautious. 'You have found my Achilles

      heel, as it were. Clever. You know far too much about us. Far

      too much.'

      Silence continued to shoulder in on the scene. Everyone

      held their breath.

      Still keeping the long arrow in place, Frank/Freddie

      Force continued to make his way crabwise to the bulkhead;

      his astonished men, unsure of what was happening, but

      understanding that they were all in serious danger, formed

      a semicircle around him. He reached the ship's inner hull

      and spread himself against it. His men followed his example

      Then, to Amy's utter surprise, the Antimatter Men and their

      leader slowly turned into hazy outlines of pink and white

      and faded from sight into the bulkhead until they vanished.

      The arrow shot at Frank/Freddie by the Doctor clattered

      to the metal floor. Captain N'hn ran back towards his bridge,

      yelling orders to his crew with the Doctor and Amy following

      rapidly in his wake.

      The centaur flung himself into his big bucket seat and threw

      every lever and switch, turned every dial on his boards, until

      a high, musical whine filled the ship. She bucked forward

      under more pressures than she had ever been designed to

      stand, putting a great many parsecs between herself and

      the pirates, while General Frank/Freddie Force and his men

      turned once more into candy-striped ribbons of energy and

      fled through the void in an effort to get to safety before the

      emergency batteries in their pseudo-skins' power packs gave

      out. The captain whinnied with amusement, though he kepi

      his eyes on the screens and continued to check the distance

      between his tanker and the disabled pirate craft.

      'Well done, Doctor,' Amy cried. 'How did you know he

      was bluffing?'

      Captain N'hn shook his head. 'He wasn't bluffing! He

      wasn't bluffing! What I want to know is how you knew where

      the power for his faux derm was coming from, Doctor.'

      'It had to be an implant point and it had to be protected

      as much as possible by fat. Logic! And eyes. I used my eyes.

      The rest was hoping I could aim decently while he was

      distracted.'

      'Will he try again?' Amy wanted to know.

      'I'm certain he will. Probably not immediately. He's taking

      quite serious risks already. And we're letting ourselves gain

      momentum as the black hole draws us in.'

      'What on earth could he want with that awful hat? And

      why pinch it twice?' Amy peered at the screens. General

      Frank/Freddie Force and his followers were well behind them

      at last. All she could see were the faint and distant stars.

      'I don't think he did pinch it first. He wouldn't need two

      goes at it once he had it in his hands. So someone else must

      have made the first attempt They might have been working

      for Force and Co. It's hard to say. If Lady Peggy Steel, the

      Invisible Thief, was with him... As far as I know, this is the

      first time he's risked coming so far away from that black

      hole. That hole is the core of our universe, as an even denser

      one exists for the whole multiverse. Both lie at the centre of

      our universe and Frank/Freddie Force's antimatter universe.

      Don't worry about it. OK? He's taking extraordinary risks -

      chancing suicide with every move he makes out here. Even

      to go a little way into such a completely alien environment

      takes either a lot of courage... Or considerable desperation.

      The Doctor shook his head. 'What does that hat represent?'

      The door opened and Mrs Banning-Cannon stood there.

      'About two million bluebacks,' she said. 'Some believe no

      one's ever paid so much for one of Diana's hats. She refused

      to sell it. I told her how I wanted it for the prizegiving in

      Miggea, and she relented. But that silly little man surely

      wouldn't have gone to such lengths just to steal a hat for

      ransom or to give it to a lady friend. The materials are worth

      a great deal, of course. It contains living organisms. Could

      the hat contain a rarer precious stone or metal than even

      Diana knew about when she sold it to me? I inspected it

      thoroughly, of course, the moment it was in my hands again.

      It did, I will admit, look a bit like a dead spider. But I found

      nothing. I was indeed a little disappointed when I examined

      the materials. In artificial light it appears rather tawdry.

      Mere platinum and a few rare stones. Oh, all the usual junk.

      I suppose her artistry lies in what she does with them. All

      ruined now of course. Once a hat has shown its furniture I

      fear it has become unwearable. Still, the principle remains.'

      Mrs Banning-Cannon sighed deeply. 'I came to thank

      you, Doctor. There are few men who would so readily take

      such risks as you did to defend a lady's honour. Ah, if there

      were only a planet where men and women of courage could

      retire... some Old Barsoom brought back to life.'

      The Doctor cleared his throat. 'Well, er, I - that is, I'm

      sure...'

      Amy gave Mrs B-C her best and most winning smile. 'He's

      like that,' she said. 'Chivalrous. Impulsive. A bit of a Don

      Quixote. That's why I'm just happy sometimes to be his little

      Sancho Panza.'

      'Is that a sort of secretary or PA?' asked Captain N'hn,

      who took little interest in ancient texts.

      'Something like that,' agreed Amy showing her teeth.

      Chapter 12

      That Old Spaceship Shuffle

      'I SAY, DOCTOR, THAT was a smashin' bit of shootin',' said W.G.

      Grace, the Bearded Lady and the best whacker on the team,

      resting her arm over her beloved antique bow-case and letting

      her spare hand lift a cup of Assam to her hirsute lips.

      At this rate you'll become a pretty useful second-best

      bowman, eh?' Bingo winked at his new friend.

      'Don't overdo it, chaps,' added Hari, 'or his head will swell

      until we're able to use it for a target.'

      By now the boys of the First Fifteen were bonding like

      billy-o, all differences forgotten over a pint or two of tea

      and a fruit bun at the temporary mess reserved precisely

      for this function. Within hours they had joined in the old

      debate concerning broadswords. Bingo thought they should

      remain at a metre wide and about a third of a metre long.

      Hari felt they should be shorter. The broadswording event

      required extraordinary skill but was not a sport popular

      with spectators. There was talk of dropping it from the

      programmes in future. Others wanted to change it. Donna

      Bradmann fried sausages over a single-burner portable heat

      canister. The Doctor rather enjoyed the sensation of retreat

      into an Edwardian school story. He was getting the kind of

      rest he needed, but soon he would have to sleep and think.

      Meanwhile, Amy was enjoying the non-players' company,

      with not quite as much tea being consumed and a little more

      Vortex Water, as issues of the day were discussed, such as

      whether Allardyce had any chance against Preston in next
    >
      year's intergalactic home game. Flapper wondered what the

      General Ejection in Nova Roma would mean for the galactic

      council. Seventy-eight members were up for ejection in the

      coming year. Amy was fascinated. She had not realised that

      the galaxy was actually democratic.

      'If you can call it democratic,' said Flapper bitterly and

      launched into a long and somewhat parochial attack on a

      great many people with unpronounceable names whom she

      assumed Amy knew.

      '... and Mummy's paying far too much for the old ones,'

      she complained.

      'The old ones?'

      'Yes, the ones being ejected. That's how you pay for the

      new ones' campaigns. By selling off the previous incumbents

      who then have to work for a person rather than the people.

      They're called lobbyists.'

      'I'm only buying fifty this time,' declared Mrs Banning-

      Cannon. 'The last lot were a complete waste of money.'

      She frowned. She was still trying to work out what Frank/

      Freddie Force had wanted with her hat. But she was full of

      praise for the Doctor, whom she declared to be a knight in a

      shining armoire. Which, for Amy, brought up the image of

      the Doctor attired in a natty French wardrobe.

      She smiled. 'Did you actually buy that hat on Peers™, Mrs

      Banning-Cannon?'

      'I ordered it when we stopped on Loondoon for the Heart

      of the Blitz re-enactments. Diana herself was there - a woman

      of extraordinary beauty - and promised to send the hat by

      Gbot to Peers™, where I could pick it up at her branch in the

      Forest Mall. Which, of course, I did, planning to wear it for

      the Highest Tea ceremony.'

      'Gbot?'

      'You know, one of those warpers that make holes in

      space. The kind of holes which form vortices and kill human

      messengers.'

      Amy deduced she was talking about a robot courier. 'And

      it was never out of your possession until it was stolen?'

      'Exactly.'

      'But it was made in Loondoon?'

      'So I understood. You don't suppose Diana or one of her

      staff used my hat to get through customs on Peers™, do

      you?'

      'That's a thought,' said Amy. 'Suppose something was

      smuggled in the lining - something that Frank/Freddie Force

      and the rest wanted badly, but which someone else stole.

      That would mean your hat no longer carries the contraband

      but that the thief now has it. And the thief's on this ship.'

      'Why do you assume that?'

      'Because Frank/Freddie Force detected what he was after

      and assumed that the hat still had its secret intact.'

      'Ah, of course. Well, I have to admit that the hat was

      returned to me in poor condition. The great central arc sagged

      a little. And the decorations were all over the place.'

      'Could it be possible that part of your hat has come adrift?'

      Amy was still a little vague about her theory. She wished she

      were bouncing ideas off the Doctor.

      But the Doctor was still bonding, swapping tall stories with

      his new buddies, and scoffing crumpets and teacakes. That

      is to say, their tales were tall and his happened to be true but sounded tall. Everybody knew about the legendary Daleks

      who had once sought to invade and inhabit the galaxy. But

      few had heard the stories he had to tell. Not that anyone

      believed him, which was why they admired him.

      'You ought to be writing for the Vs, Doctor,' roared W.G.

      Grace, slapping her not inconsiderable thigh-

      'Rather!' declared Donna, detaching another crumpet

      from her toasting fork and handing it to W.G., who delicately

      wiped crumbs from her magnificent face foliage.

      'You can tell 'em all right Doctor,' declared Denise

      Compton, the Second Fifteen's second-best whackswoman.

      'You've done some space travelling in your time, I'd guess.'

      'I like to travel,' the Doctor admitted. 'I have what you

      might call an enquiring nature.' As if to demonstrate, he

      became suddenly thoughtful. 'I was trying to work out how

      they could disseminate long enough to cross space on a

      photon beam. They expected to leave that way, though with

      the hat, having taken horrible risks to acquire it. They had

      less than a twenty-five per cent chance of survival, same as

      they gave us. So what makes it so valuable?'

      The company had become infected by his mood. 'By George,

      that was the spookiest bally thing I ever saw in my life and all

      of them dressed up like organ grinders' monkeys!' declared

      Denise. She was still a little shaky from the encounter. 'Was it

      an illusion, Doctor? I mean, if we looked around, would we

      discover it was a bunch of your old mates putting on a show

      to liven up this boring voyage?'

      The Doctor allowed himself a smirk. 'I wish I had that

      level of creativity.'

      Somehow the subject got changed to archery techniques in

      enclosed spaces and how you could rig up a perfectly good

      quintain if you didn't mind using the casing of the ship's

      nuker. A chap someone knew knew of a chap who had used

      the cadmium rods at full draw to give him eighteen hits or

      rolls. Sadly they'd blown up passing Kali 4.

      At length, feigning tiredness, the hero of the hour made

      an excuse and left musing for bed. Stooping uncomfortably,

      he was met in the gangway by a slightly flushed and

      cheerful Amy, whose unruly red hair stood on end as she

      realised that they had both been wondering the same thing:

      what could be worth risking the death of the universe for?

      Because Frank/Freddie Force, the Antimatter Men and Lady

      Peggy Steel, the Invisible Crackswoman, reportedly often in

      his company, all wanted what was hidden aboard this ship.

      'They gambled their own lives on it being here. And ours,'

      said Amy. 'And if you hadn't happened to be carrying a bow

      and arrows and acted with unusual presence of mind her

      grin widened - 'who knows what would have happened?'

      By now they were sitting in the makeshift gaming room

      where a few other parties were playing virtual machines.

      Some machines were so threadbare they were barely visible

      to anyone but the users. The pair sat in the darkness, well to

      the back, and talked quietly.

      'It would have produced a totally chaotic effect swiftly

      followed by a collapse into permanent stasis. Caused by

      an in-turned war of the very forces evolved to maintain the

      great multiverse in perpetuity,' the Doctor murmured. 'We're

      going to need assistance from the Second Aether. Those

      brawly boys are mad as moonbeams and as hard to catch

      long enough to question and see if they'll help us.'

      He'd already told her that only in those spaces lying

      between the twin planes of matter and antimatter, Law and

      Chaos, was this war understood and exploited in full. The

      Second Aether was the realm between space and time where

      the Famous Chaos Engineers performed their morphing

      miracles. They called themselves names like The Secondaries

      or The Preprincipleasures and lived in a dimension not even

    &n
    bsp; Morphail's wizard scientists could explain. This environment

      was thought to be the legendary spaces of the inbetween, which

      could be traversed by winding roads of energy and where

      peoples of every species, race and creed walked between the

      worlds. To some they were known simply as the Spaces, but

      to the more romantically inclined, the Second Aether.

      Home to the totally opposed immeasurable entities

      generally known as the Spammer Gain and the Original

      Insect, the Second Aether sheltered many a corsair tribe but

      in the main the inhabitants left the real fighting, the blood

      feuding and the empire building to their associates. They

      took sides fighting for those they called the Principles.

      The Doctor sighed and grimaced, his eyes opening wide as

      another thought struck him. 'We know they don't side with

      Law or Chaos, Matter or Antimatter, Reason or Romance.

      But most of them will rally to a call. They need Law as life

      needs death and as waking needs sleeping. I'll see what I can

      do. It's risky, but it's worth a try. Meanwhile we're somehow

      hosting a mystery beacon radiating to every millinery freak

      for umpteen billion parsecs and we don't know where to

      look for it. Desperate measures, Amy. What do you call those

      odds?'

      'Oh, be generous,' she said, her spirits rising. 'Fifty-fifty?'

      'Let's make it more interesting,' he said, running through

      his pockets until he found a live card, flashing and gaudy

      in the light. 'Neither side will be happy with a tie in these

      circumstances. Let's say fifty-one to forty nine, eh?'

      'Don't tell me.' She was sardonic. 'You're the fifty-one per

      cent?'

      'Let's find out.' He leaned forward, smiling like a Fool,

      and winked.

      She took his proffered arm and quietly stood up. They

      had barely reached their own section when the darkness was

      split by bolts of the richest indigo, by zigzags of scarlet and

      oscillating, impossible greens.

      'At last!' The Doctor lifted his head like a predator detecting

      a change in the wind, the sound of distant thunder. Amy half-

      expected him to lift up one arm, the way a dog or cat might

      lift a forepaw and sniff at the territory ahead. He helped her

      brace against the gangway plates as they turned slowly so

      she immediately recovered her balance.

      'What is it, Doctor?'

      He cocked his head a little to one side and grinned at her.

     
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