The Coming of the Teraphiles

  the Doctor. 'I doubt if it would be possible for people like

  us to do this under any other circumstances. The heart of it

  down there is the black hole which represents the centre of

  our multiverse and all black holes and universes everywhere

  to quasi-infinity, although there is, paradoxically, no centre

  to the multiverse and yet countless centres. But that's what

  began to go wrong millennia ago...'

  'When t'Roogalator were pinched,' muttered Captain

  Abberley. 'Some damned fool got in there - don't ask how

  - and stole that beam from the fulcrum which regulates the

  Great Balance. I'll thank thee not to ask me, because I can't

  explain it. But that's t'form it takes for us.'

  'Because this isn't just physics we're talking about.'

  The Doctor's eyes gleamed with fascinated curiosity. 'It's

  metaphysics. It's the only way we can understand reality.

  And both are represented by mythology, by legends, by

  the shamanistic power of humanity to tell a story that is

  an absolute lie beneath which hides an absolute truth. Life

  and Death, Law and Chaos, Matter and Antimatter. What

  a species! A poem creates a formula. A formula becomes

  material. And so it goes on. And now one of us must do his

  duty.'

  'And shoot that arrow into the very heart of the black hole,'

  said Captain Abberley. 'Probably up to me, eh?'

  'I don't think so, captain,' said the Doctor. 'I'm the one

  who got us into this. I'm the one who has to shoot it.'

  'Correct me if I'm wrong,' said Captain Abberley. 'I've seen

  what happens to anyone who goes into the Schwarzschild

  Radius. Wouldn't it be instant death, lad, to shoot that arrow

  down there?'

  'Not necessarily,' said the Doctor. He bent to pick up a

  long coil of rope which Captain Abberley had brought on

  deck. He tied one end of the rope to a capstan. 'See, if we can

  shoot the arrow accurately enough and ensure a minimum

  reaction, we just might be able to haul me back up.'

  'Doctor! You can't!' Amy was genuinely scared. 'I don't

  care what happens. You just can't risk it! I'm a pretty good

  shot. Why don't I —'

  'No,' Bingo shook his head. 'You couldn't do it, if you'll

  forgive me saying so, Amy. And you're just not that good an

  archer, Doctor. I've watched you. Admittedly you're a very

  solid shot, but not a great one. And you won't know your

  bearings once you're over the side. I'm sorry.'

  'I've got a handy recognition chart in my wheelhouse.'

  Captain Abberley frowned. 'But given as—'

  'Well, it's my idea and I'm going to be the one who does

  it.' The Doctor took off his coat. He was shaking a little. He

  handed the bow and the arrow to Captain Abberley. 'Hang

  on to these for a minute. I'll need to check that chart just to be

  certain. Did you say I'd find them in the wheelhouse?' At the

  captain's nod he ran up the short companionway.

  A sudden menacing rumbling erupted from the region of

  the black hole. The swirling stars shivered briefly. Thin black

  threads were tightening around the multiverse.

  The Doctor seemed very tired as he disappeared up the

  steps.

  'Bingo! ' Amy's voice was a scream of anguish.

  The Doctor came barrelling out of the wheelhouse. He saw

  exactly what had happened. His voice joined hers. 'No!'

  Bingo was climbing slowly and deliberately down the

  rope, the bow of Diana slung over one shoulder and the

  Arrow of Artemis clutched firmly between his teeth. He had

  a fixed, deliberate look in his eyes and only looked up once

  when Amy cried 'Bingo! No! Come back!'

  He made a muffled response which might have been

  'Sorry, old thing,' and then coiled the rope more firmly

  around his left leg. He continued to inch down, his image

  wavering and growing suddenly larger, then smaller, while

  Amy continued to call to him and the Doctor shouted at him

  not to be such an idiot.

  Only he wasn't an idiot, as they all knew. They watched

  him as he seemed to lose his hold on the rope for a moment,

  the arrow dropping from his teeth only to be caught by an

  expert hand as Bingo used all the skills he had ever learned

  to keep moving bit by bit into position.

  With Amy and the others still calling out to him, he seemed

  to fumble with the bow as he hung there in his impossible

  position, almost lose it, fumble with the arrow, trying to slot

  it to the bowstring, look up once more, his eyes saying so

  much more than he had ever been able to say in words.

  Amy bent and grabbed hold of the rope, hauling on it.

  'Bingo! Don't!' Captain Abberley stepped forward to help

  her.

  Down below them, Bingo looked up again shaking his

  head. He was having trouble keeping the rope twisted around

  him as he struggled to fit the arrow to the strung bow.

  The Doctor grabbed at the rope to help Amy and Captain

  Abberley, then shook his head, dropping his hands and

  leaning over the rail to watch Bingo who was now drawing

  the bowstring to his cheek, his eyes narrowed, fixed on the

  target, the very centre of the black hole.

  Captain Abberley had given up. There seemed to be tears

  in the old space-dog's eyes. He turned his head away.

  'No. You can't let him!' Amy still held the rope trying to

  pull Bingo back in, but the Doctor moved suddenly, grabbing

  it from her hands and then dropping it to the deck.

  'Too dangerous now,' he said. 'We'd kill him and everyone

  else.' And he sat down suddenly with his head in his hands.

  'What an idiot!' He was berating himself.

  'Look! Look, Doctor!' Amy clutched the rail, her other

  hand pointing.

  Wearily he hauled himself upright and joined Amy and

  Abberley at the side. By some trick of the dragging chasm, they

  could all see Bingo, his feet spread wide in the nothingness

  of all-space, the bowstring pulled back with the gleaming

  newtonium Arrow of Artemis long and silver and bright,

  ready to shoot, the ebony and ivory bow curving deeper as

  he took careful aim along the shaft.

  Then, framed by a dark aura, Robin Lockesley, Earl of

  Sherwood, let fly.

  The arrow left the bow. It flew straight for the middle of

  the black hole. As it flew it grew longer and longer still until

  it was no more than a slender rod of silvery light, growing

  thinner and longer until it touched, then pierced the exact

  centre of the black sphere.

  Without thinking, Amy made a dash for the rail, grasped

  the rope again with every muscle straining. It slackened...

  Weeping, she pulled at the rope, hauling it in, but all was

  gone, gone into what the Mercurian poet Stark called the

  lake-of-the-gone-forever. Arrow, bow and archer. Alive for

  eternity. Dead for eternity. Conscious for eternity. All gone.

  The little steamboat bucked and swayed. The Doctor's

  attention shifted and he ran back to the wheelhouse, this time

  to help Captain Abberley keep the boat in order. The rope

&nbs
p; itself writhed and twisted like a dying snake until, running

  back down to shove Amy into the comparative safety of the

  wheelhouse, the Doctor pulled at its tightening knots. The

  rope now threatened to drag them into the chasm after Bingo

  and the Arrow of Law.

  'That should have been my job.' The Doctor produced a

  knife and cut the last knot. Suddenly the ship righted herself,

  already chugging away from the mooring. The Doctor joined

  them in the wheelhouse.

  'Probably should have been your job, Time Lord,' said

  Captain Abberley. 'But yon youngster were right. He was the

  only really decent shot amongst tha. Besides, there's tons of

  Bingos in the multiverse. And only one Doctor.'

  Chapter 28

  The Multiverse Restored

  TRAILING CLOUDS OF BRILLIANTLY coloured steam, her engines coughing

  and screeching, the paddle-wheeler thundered out of the

  pastures and horizons of the Second Aether into the glaring

  crimson peace of Ketchup Cove. Captain Abberley gave a

  decent impression of Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen,

  with his grubby white cap on the back of his head, an oily rag

  in his hand and a huge grin on his lips.

  Amy's eyes told Flapper what had happened to Bingo.

  'I'm so sorry,' said Amy. 'Bingo was going to make Hari a

  lord or something, and you were going to have some land

  and be rich...' But, before Flapper could tell her that their

  fortunes were nothing to the loss of old Bingo, Amy felt her

  eyes welling with tears. Then Flapper cried with her.

  In fact, there were many emotions expressed that night

  when the Doctor came back into the pavilion to attend a

  wake for Bingo. The Doctor proudly told them that dear old

  Robin 'Bingo' Lockesley had saved Creation, good and bad,

  sweet and sour, ugly and beautiful, the whole of it from the

  centre to the Rim, top to bottom, side to side. In short, the

  quasi-infinite was no longer under threat of an early death

  and/or transfiguration.

  'Well, good for Bingo,' said many of his friends, sipping

  thoughtful shants. As well as feeling sorry for their departed

  captain, they were now worrying how they were going to get

  off the Ghost Worlds and back to their various homes. They

  had all assumed that the Gargantua' s tenders would simply

  return them to the mother ship, if necessary with the Doctor's

  help. It wasn't a particularly cheerful prospect, dying of old

  age on a primitive planet with only the most basic health and

  entertainment programmes.

  Amy had guessed it first. They were now stranded in

  Miggea, experiencing the system's constant shifting through

  hundreds and thousands, possibly millions, of alien universes

  until such time as the orbit returned them to their starting

  point, which could well be after many of them were dead,

  there being no sophisticated cryogenics here. The locals,

  accustomed to isolation, were prepared for the experience

  and, apart from the nausea accompanying a shift, had few

  changes to worry about. This added to the teams' overall

  gloom and rather spoiled the pleasure of a game well played

  and won, saving the multiverse from oblivion.

  'I mean, it was no fun making that first transition.' Uff

  Nuf O'Kay sipped a moody pint. 'I have a weak stomach as

  it is. The thought of a thousand more is pretty unbearable.'

  He watched without regret as a feline of some sort appeared

  through one wall and sauntered past him into another. 'It's

  not every day I envy a cat's abilities.'

  Amy was still mourning Bingo and wondering if she were

  not somehow to blame for his death, even though the Doctor

  continued to reassure her that Bingo's act of self-sacrifice had

  saved the multiverse. He had done the only sane thing, if

  multiverse-saving was worth it.

  Flapper felt guilty worrying about Hari's status while still

  knowing a deep sadness at the loss of Bingo. Any agreement

  Mr Banning-Cannon had made with Bingo was now

  decidedly null and void. 'Although, of course, if it hadn't

  been for Bingo there actually wouldn't be a future to worry

  about.' But things still looked a bit on the bleak side. If they

  were doomed to permanent exile on this provincial planet,

  maybe all bets, so to speak, were off. They had better start

  again, tilling the virgin earth of Flynn together. It took a lot

  of energy, she reflected, to look on the bright side.

  That night, the sky became layer upon layer of

  complementary realities, one fitting into the other, one shade

  colouring the next, one blazing aura into another and all

  giving off a faint, distant noise, for sound actually travelled

  through the space between the worlds of the Second Aether

  while Miggea's planets had been soundless before the

  terraforming.

  Spiralling out in every possible direction and dimension,

  the tapestry of worlds could scarcely be absorbed by the

  human senses. Amy thought that the peace she discovered

  in the presence of so many worlds was the most profound

  she had ever experienced, precisely because those other

  worlds were packed with life and people pretty much the

  same as those she already knew. All life throughout the

  millions of universes supported people and places much

  the same as her own, given a minor difference or two. That

  knowledge brought with it a sense of continuity. It meant that

  somewhere out there, maybe, a good few versions of reality

  away, all the other Bingos who had not taken part in this

  singular adventure were enjoying a cup of tea after a long

  day's innings, swapping bits of news with some lady friend

  called 'old thing' and who called him 'dumb twerp' and with

  whom he had an understanding.

  Here on Flynn, where the most important game in the

  history of existence had been played, both residents and

  newcomers planned to club up and build some sort of

  monument to Bingo. They would all remember when, looking

  up into the sky where a black sun burned, they saw a long

  slender silver lance slide into the place where the Balance

  swayed, between Law and Chaos, Love and Hate and all

  the other opposing forces that determined the existence of

  Creation.

  And, back in place at last, that good old Roogalator, the

  regulator of the great engine of space and time and of all

  the various abstracts which, thanks to our love of myth, so

  quickly become actualities, resumed its steady movement.

  The black tides no longer raced through the universe.

  Shadowy harlequins and pierrots no longer danced upon the

  ruins of countless realities. The multiverse could return to its

  stately natural cycle.

  That night, while the sky was filled with alien stars, the Bubbly

  Boys, those spoiled and oily boys, jolly jacks all three of them,

  bounced in to greet their old skipper Captain Brian Abberley

  with whistles and song to show off who they still had trapped

  in a fat pinky-grey bubble: none other than General Frank/
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  Freddie Force and his scowling Antimatter Men, who had

  turned against their leaders for mistakes of judgement and

  blamed this last ignominy on them as well. They raged and

  quarrelled within the bubble, like varicoloured hamsters.

  Time bends again, decided the Doctor. They shared invisible

  Peggy's disgust for his failures and were glad General Force

  had his reward, even if they had to suffer it with him. A sense

  of justice now infects the multiverse. The Force twins and

  their followers would soon begin the same arc across the

  Schwarzschild Radius which Robin of Sherwood had made

  when he restored the Roogalator, which could change its own

  shape to preserve its existence, which maintained the order

  of eternity, and which employed mortals in its and therefore

  their own salvation. Now Force and Co were doomed to live

  for ever in that moment between life and death.

  The Doctor alone might have escaped Bingo's fate, but

  he knew in his bones that the single shot down into that

  constantly moving spiral would have been almost impossible

  for anyone but Bingo to make. He had grown rather

  philosophical over his half-shant of M&E Vortex Water and

  decided he had better retire to bed. All that excitement could

  put centuries on a fellow. He stood up and was about to say

  'good night' when a fresh, piercing rumble filled the skies

  and he joined the others running from the pub to see what

  was happening.

  A massive shadow blotted out the stars. A few spots of light

  gleamed in that huge shape. Framed against the deep blue

  disc of the setting sun it stood at anchor in the stratosphere,

  menacing the world, no longer moving. Waiting.

  Nothing happened. Another flush of bronze and silver

  sparks erupted, faded, enough for them to think they might

  have recognised the shape.

  'Could it be what I think?' The Doctor's voice was low,

  disbelieving.

  Amy grasped his arm, as if afraid she would fall.

  'It - it might be...' said Hari, equally unwilling to speak

  his thoughts.

  A cosmic pause.

  'Well take a stroll to the landing field in the morning,' said

  the Doctor. 'Mm?'

  'Good idea,' said Amy.

  Sure enough, when they got to the landing field next

  morning, there she was, looking as if she had sailed down

  from heaven, a faint mist rising from her decks and masts,