Part 14 (1/2)

'Is that it?' Fortalexa watched as the Doctor continued to whistle, twirling the watch round his finger on its chain. The statues were all but upon them now. The sticky mud was oozing from their joints as they lurched forwards.

'At this point,' said the Doctor suddenly, as if he had just remembered something important, 'we duck.' And disappeared from sight.

Fortalexa joined him face down in the mud hands behind his head, a second later. He too had heard the primary ignition at the back of the engine pods.

The Doctor rolled onto his back and watched with satisfaction as the last of the mud was blasted out of the holes in the lander's side. It was followed a split*second lat by four jets of flame. They reached out like flame*throwers above the Doctor, singeing his eyebrows and warming his face, licking round the three statues which were bending towards their prey.

The Lannic statue was the nearest. It was engulfed the blast, shrivelling as the dried outer covering was sealed away. The face collapsed inwards, a smoking mess, and the moulded clothing peeled away to reveal the lack of skin beneath. The sludge inside began to collapse once its rigid sh.e.l.l was removed, slowly running downwards in a huge viscous ball which bubbled and evaporated in the heat.

Behind Lannic, the Doctor and Ace were caught in less intense heat. They staggered forward a step, dragged further into the blast by their own heavy momentum. Their faces blistered and burned away, dark liquid boiling as it seeped from then eyes and ran down their cheek The statue of the Doctor lurched into the remains of the statue of Lannic and toppled forward, cras.h.i.+ng in a steaming heap against the lander. It left a brown sticky stain where it slid down the side. The facsimile of Ace seemed set to stagger close enough to the Doctor and Fortalexa to reach them, but then its liquid knees gave way under its own weight and it collapsed down on itself. It jarred to a stop, its waist spreading out as it hit the ground, Steam hissed up from the wet surface. Slowly it seemed to sink into the ground as the weight of the statue combined with the heat to melt it from the floor up. The head stared accusingly at the Doctor for a moment through stained hollow eyes, then it too was gone.

'Good night, sweet ladies,' muttered the Doctor and he and Fortalexa crawled out from under the flames. The Doctor stood upright as soon as they were away far enough from the heat. He dusted himself down and doffed his hat to Hamlet who was busy ramming a goblet into his stepfather's face. 'Good night, sweet prince,' he called.

'You know,' the Doctor said to Fortalexa as they entered the hold, 'I think it may well have been Shakespeare who said ”I love it when a plan comes together.”'

It still made no real sense. But Bernice was not one to give up. She was going through each of the doc.u.ments again, in random rather than chronological order this time. There was something on the tip of her consciousness that niggled. She was sure that somewhere in these doc.u.ments one perfect facsimile of a discoloured piece of paper, or hidden in words buried within an optical sphere was the clue she was looking for.

The problem was, she had not the faintest idea what he was searching for. And what was more it was getting boring as well as frustrating. She realized she had not been paying attention to the sheet she had been reading, sighed, and started again. It was an especially pompous account of the reconstruction of part of the admissions block after a fire in the late twenty*third century. She got more and more frustrated with the stilted writing style as she went through. In this correspondent's opinion, the admissions buildings have been eminently in need of profound attention for some considerable time now. In this correspondent's opinion, the admissions buildings have been eminently in need of profound attention for some considerable time now. Bernice growled at the doc.u.ment facsimile, screwed it into a ball and threw it across the room. Bernice growled at the doc.u.ment facsimile, screwed it into a ball and threw it across the room.

It bounced off an ornate Herastian wall mirror and skidded to a halt under a Sequantil writing desk. Bernice was immediately on her hands and knees retrieving it, her mind in a whirl as it tried to work through the incredible conclusions it had leapt to while the paper ball was still in flight. She was sitting cross*legged on the floor with her velvet skirts spread out like an island round her smoothing out the doc.u.ment again when the man came in.

He was wearing a close*cut grey suit which seemed familiar. Her mind tried to accommodate the distraction. 'Just a second,' she said, 'I've nearly got it.'

He nodded to show he had heard, then stood still and silent, waiting for her. But Bernice found this more distracting than if he had spoken, and her brain began t work through the secondary problem of who he might be. Tall, a little older than me, well chiselled features that was it. He was the man from the Garden of Whisper Though come to think of it, he also looked remarkably like the character of Hamlet the computer had generated in the simulated theatre.

'I didn't realize you worked here.' She pulled herself up off the floor and returned the straightened paper to the desk. 'But I am nearly ready for another carafe of the Kintampo Creek stuff, thank you.'

He raised an eyebrow: Probably more used to hunting out doc.u.ments, thought Benny. 'Do you know any thing about body language?' she asked, remembering how learned he had seemed when they last met.

'Body language?'

'Non*verbal communication, you know.'

'A little. People express themselves through gestures, postures, physical habits.'

'There's a theory that much of the research into non non*verbal communication can be applied to the verbal media as well, you know.'

He looked a little pained. 'I am au fait au fait with the work of Plaquet and Frost. They make some valid points.' with the work of Plaquet and Frost. They make some valid points.'

Bernice nodded. 'Do you have a copy I could borrow, do you think? I'd like to try to apply some of those points to some of these doc.u.ments.' She gestured at the piles stacked at the workstation. 'I think they could reveal quite a lot.'

'Ah.' The man nodded gravely. He walked slowly and deliberately across the room, flopping down on a chaise longue chaise longue and breathing out heavily as if coming to a decision. and breathing out heavily as if coming to a decision.

'Are you listening?' He said it so loudly that Bernice looked round to see who was behind her. But there was no one. 'Elliniko wake up.' He paused for a moment, and smiled at Bernice as a faint ping came from the workstation as if in answer. 'Good, then you can stop listening, And you can send in tea.'

Bernice looked at him, her mouth open in surprise and anger. 'You've been bugging me this room's wired.'

'Of course. They all are.' He leaped to his feet. 'But I'm forgetting my manners. I do apologize, Professor Summerfield. Or may I call you Benny I gather your friends do.' Before she was quite aware what was happening, he had led her back to the chaise longue chaise longue and she was sitting beside him, her hand held between both his. 'Allow me to introduce myself,' he said. 'I am Irving Braxiatel.' and she was sitting beside him, her hand held between both his. 'Allow me to introduce myself,' he said. 'I am Irving Braxiatel.'

Benny gulped. 'Nice place you've got here,' she said.

Lannic was waiting for them when they entered the hold. She was standing by the water cannon, which was strapped in ready for lift*off. 'Where is it?' she demanded before they were completely inside.

'What?' asked Fortalexa.

'Quite well, thank you,' the Doctor said, touching his hat. 'We got away unharmed.

'Where is the machine?'

Fortalexa was confused. 'It's down the tunnel. Where did you think it would be?'

'We're not leaving without it.'

'Like h.e.l.l we're not.'

'What's the problem can we leave yet, or what?' Ace was standing in the door to the main part of the lander. 'Klasvik's strapped in ready to go couldn't hold him back. How was my timing?'

'Impeccable as ever, Ace.'

'Well, we'll have to go soon or the engines will burn off too much fuel. But I daren't turn them off in case they get the mud treatment again. Are you lot coming through?'

Lannic looked round at them all. 'All right.' Her teeth were clenched. 'I'll get it myself.'

She could hear footsteps close behind, but she did not turn back. At least someone had the decency to follow, to help. The machine had to be the top priority for the expedition had to be.

It was standing exactly how Fortalexa had left it, lights flickering across its control panel. Lannic reached out and shut down the main function, running her hand almost reverently across the finish.

'So what's so great about plays?'

She turned quickly. It was the woman Ace she had expected Fortalexa, or perhaps the Doctor. 'You obviously have no concept of how important this is.'

'True.'

'A programmed performance of The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers. Never mind the technical capabilities of this thing, for that alone the Exec will grant me an audience.'

'And this Exec's some top dog is he?' Lannic looked confused, so Ace went on: 'Okay, let's get it back to the lander if it's so important.'

They began to wheel it up the tunnel. The machine was not heavy, just bulky. It was awkward to handle as it bounced along the uneven floor of the tunnel. When the hand touched Lannic's shoulder she a.s.sumed it was Ace prompting her to move round so they could get a better grip.

Then she saw the other arms, greasy with wet mud, pus.h.i.+ng their way out of the tunnel walls ahead of them.