Part 13 (1/2)

'Oh, I know what they are,' the Doctor said dismissively. 'But I don't think it helps much.'

'It would help me,' Fortalexa told him. 'The whole thing seems to be someone's idea of Death's Bane Death's Bane on a limitless budget.' on a limitless budget.'

'They're mud. The outer sh.e.l.l is dried and hardened but it's still mud.'

'Mud, Doctor?' Klasvik seemed interested in spite of himself.

'The surface of this planet is a living thing maybe many things. In the dry season it's dormant, disconnected. Its parts are scattered around as dry sand with no const.i.tuency, Add water, and it bonds together. Comes to life.'

'Are you sure?' Fortalexa was pus.h.i.+ng forwards into them as the statues approached from behind.

The Doctor pushed backwards as Ace stepped slowly closer. 'No, not sure sure as such. But I like a good theory, and you probably haven't time to disprove it to my satisfaction.' as such. But I like a good theory, and you probably haven't time to disprove it to my satisfaction.'

'Does it help us?' Gilmanuk could see what was probably the only way out. But he would rather have an alternative, if there was one.

'Help?' The Doctor seemed surprised at the question. 'No, it doesn't help us at all.'

Gilmanuk shrugged. 'That's what I thought.' He leaned across to the Doctor and whispered, 'You are sure that Professor Summerfield is safe?'

The Doctor looked deep into his eyes, and Gilmanuk could tell that he sensed what he was thinking. The Doctor's hand closed on his, squeezing it slightly as he said, 'Yes, I am sure.' He held Gilmanuk's hand for a moment longer. 'You're a brave man, Gilmanuk. Thank you for caring.'

Gilmanuk smiled, a tear coming to his eye. 'Well, this where I make my exit.' Then he walked forward, into the arms of Ace.

Her embrace was as cold and tight as he had expected. Her cheek was hard against his for a moment, then he felt it give way and a sticky mess covered his face, oozed behind his gla.s.ses and against his tightly closed eyes. He felt the grip tighten round him and was unable to move. Images flashed past his sightless eyes: of his wife; his son; and of Professor Bernice Summerfield.

As his body sank to the ground he heard the sound of metal on metal and knew that the door to the hold had opened for his friends. And although his whole face was set in a muddy death mask, in his mind he was smiling.

Source Doc.u.ment 8 Cover letter accompanying application for post as Admissions Overseer at the Pentillanian Theatre on Menaxus Braxiatel Collection Catalogue Number: 831 CPH Extract. Written by Di Pietro Palladio. Dated 2315.

Sir, Please find enclosed an application form for the post of Admissions Overseer. You will appreciate from my qualifications and experience that I am eminently suitable for the position under offer. I am available for immediate interview.

You will note from the Comments section of the form which I have completed with particular clarity, that I have suggested profound changes to the standard admission procedures which could, in this applicant's opinion, increase the throughput of ticketing and the accuracy of fulfilment.

Chapter 8.

The Infernal Machine Verbal communication is by contrast much harder to interpret. Indeed, as far as the written word is concerned, it is almost impossible. The author will have taken time to disguise their automatic and subconscious mannerisms through revision and rewriting and may even have introduced deliberate confusion. communication is by contrast much harder to interpret. Indeed, as far as the written word is concerned, it is almost impossible. The author will have taken time to disguise their automatic and subconscious mannerisms through revision and rewriting and may even have introduced deliberate confusion.In fact, the most one can reasonably hope to say about written material is that it was or was not written by the same person. Stylistic and linguistic habits are difficult to lose even though their meaning and intention may be obscured. In Macbeth Macbeth, for example, it is easy to see which sections were added to the 1623 folio by Middleton. What is rather harder to fathom is why he added them. Or, come to that, why they are rarely removed by an editor.Verbal Non*Communication Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 Vyse Plaquet and Hughes Frost, 2137 'You got this from a cheap ”B” movie, didn't you?'

The Doctor looked hurt, but Ace went on, 'From the people who brought you Attack of the Fifty*Foot Poodle Attack of the Fifty*Foot Poodle.'

'You're not taking this very seriously, Ace.'

'I know I know people are dead and the killer zombies are at the door.' She turned back to the flight controls. 'Still we can be out of here in a couple of minutes. I just need to run the motors up to speed.' She adjusted a dial, and squinted at the read*out next to it.

'Well done, Ace. I'll get back to the others I left them in the hold nursing their credibility.' He paused in the doorway. 'And anyway, poodles don't have fifty feet.' But she did not hear. So he turned, disappointed, and set off down the corridor.

'Doctor!' Ace's voice reached him before he had gone ten paces.

The Doctor frowned and returned to the flight deck. 'It was just a joke.'

But Ace still was not listening to him. She pointed to the read*out, flas.h.i.+ng red as power*to*inertia ratios rolled past. 'That's not right what could cause that?'

The Doctor watched the figures for a while, then stared past Ace into the far wall, his lips moving as he out*thought the flight computers and leaped at explanations.

'Mud!' he exclaimed at last. 'Lots of mud, packing into the engine pods for the lateral thrusters and blocking the drive feeds.'

'You're not serious?' He scowled. 'Okay, you are serious. We've got to clear it, then the readings are way above tolerance already. I'll have to shut it down. And we can't take off in this weather with no lateral control.' She reset the engine controls. It was only as the sound of the drive died away that either of them was aware that it had been there, straining as the power fought in vain to express itself. 'Much more of that and the whole lot would go up.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Which is where we want to go. But in one piece. We must clear it out and try again.'

'Doctor, what if something's waiting for you to do just that?'

'Waiting for us?' The thought did not seem to have occurred to him.

Ace nodded. 'Something out of a ”B” movie.'

'Well.' The Doctor's face brightened a little. 'Let's hope it's a poodle.'

Fortalexa had a.s.sumed some sort of authority. All he could do however was issue a status report to the survivors. 'And since we cannot locate them,' he concluded, 'we must a.s.sume that a.s.sok Bannahilk and Professor Summerfield are also amongst the casualties. So that leaves just us.'

'And Ace,' the Doctor reminded him.

'None of which helps us to decide what to do about unblocking the engines,' Klasvik pointed out.

'The machine,' Lannic said, 'the dream machine, did you call it?'

'Ace did.'

'What about it?' asked Klasvik.

'There must be some way it can help us.'

'Not unless it can create a diversion to draw the statues away from the engines.' Fortalexa was not convinced.

'Maybe it can,' offered the Doctor. 'It projects a lifelike image, it might fool them.'

'No chance. Without the activator key it won't project an interval, never mind any sort of performance.'

'Yet it was working in a sort of stand*by mode when Ace and I arrived.' The Doctor leaped to his feet and walked round in a small circle. 'Puzzling, isn't it?'

'But not very helpful Doctor.' Klasvik glared at him.