Part 8 (1/2)

The trouble was, there was no way of knowing if the Doctor could see the figures, and if he could, whether he was in a position to do anything about it. Her aching arms and the crick in her back told her she had been holding up the print-out quite long enough, but Tegan had the continuing feeling that if she stayed kneeling in front of the TARDIS just a little bit longer it might make the difference of life and death to the Doctor. To say nothing of whether she ever got home or not.

The Monitor arranged a compromise. But having instructed two Logopolitans to hold up the sheet of paper while Tegan stretched her legs, the last thing the Monitor expected was to find himself being marched by this imperious young woman over to the door that lead through to the External Register.

'Would you mind explaining something to me?' she demanded, indicating the long row of earnest, pallid faces seated before the consoles. 'Back home in Brisbane we'd cal a place like that a sweat-shop. What's going on?'

The Monitor seemed not to understand. Tegan explained the phrase 'sweat-shop', and went on: 'You're not going to tel me they're all working of their own free will.'

'Academic research', said the Monitor, 'commands its own dedication.'

'You can't tel me this is just academic research. Look at them - they're grey with worry.'

'And what about you, Tegan - are you dedicated to your work?'

Tegan admitted she was top of the training course for the airline job. But that was different. 'We all enjoyed it. These people are being forced into - whatever they're up to.

They don't smile, they don't talk.'

The Monitor spread his hands in a careful gesture of incomprehension. 'Their language is the language of the Numbers. It is their talent and their pa.s.sion, and their work is very serious. They have no need to smile.' Tegan was aghast. 'No need to smile!'

Touching her arm, the Monitor steered her gently back into the Central Register. 'And as for speech,' he continued, closing the door behind them, 'we are a people driven not by individual need, but by mathematical necessity. The language of the Numbers is as much as we need.'

'But if they can't talk at all . . .' Tegan broke off, looking in the direction of the TARDIS. It was fluorescing again. In panic she ran to it, s.n.a.t.c.hing the paper from the Logopolitans.

She was about to turn on them for neglecting their job, when the Monitor stepped in.

'The Doctor's reversed it,' he said, delight brightening his parchment face.

It was true! The TARDIS was growing larger as they watched.

It was a street with few cells, on the very edge of the city where the whispers were quieter. Adric and Nyssa were running; for Adric had been almost certain he had seen the translucent figure again.

Nyssa's hair coiled in the wind as she ran beside him. 'Where?'

'Never mind - follow me,' said Adric, racing ahead.

She was about to comply when the hem of her skirt caught in one of the small th.o.r.n.y plants that grew along the pink rock wall. She paused to lean against a nearby pillar and unhook herself. The tiny tenacious barbs were reluctant to let go, and she had to sit on the base of the pillar, which was decorated with a frieze of carved leaves, and lean back against its squat, fluted column while she picked the thorns out of her skirt.

When she looked up, Adric had turned the corner - in which direction she couldn't be sure. Rising to follow, she became aware of a pair of eyes watching her from the gloom of the cell. The eyes were familiar. She raised her hand to shade out the light and peered into the shadows.

'Father?' She held her breath.

The figure in the shadows stepped forwards, and Nyssa was overjoyed at what she saw.

'Nyssa! Nyssa, my dear,' said the Master, holding out his hands to her.

He seemed changed; younger than she remembered him, his silver hair now dark and his face leaner. But Nyssa could never mistake her father's voice. They walked through the narrowing streets until they came to the gullies that led out onto the plateau, and all the while she listened to that low voice as it unfolded new ideas for research, plans for the future and stories of past deeds. She realised as they stopped to look out over the distant rosy rolling hills that she had been so caught up in the joy of seeing him again and hearing that dark hypnotic voice that she had scarcely taken in a word.

'What is this ”mission” of yours, father?' She reached out to touch his hand, and was surprised to find it icy. 'Tell me. You seem so changed by it, so cold, somehow.'

'Logopolis is a cold place. A cold, high place overlooking the universe. It holds a single great secret, Nyssa. Which you and I will discover together.'

'And the Doctor,' she added. 'The Doctor can help us.'

'Oh yes, the Doctor can certainly help us.' He smiled a thin smile. Then he withdrew his hand and said suddenly, 'You must return to him.'

'I don't want to be parted from you, father.'

'No need to be.' There was a chuckle in the voice of the man beside her and from his coat he brought out an armlet. Chased into the gold was a design of leaves sprouting in pairs along a stem studded with small bright stones. He clipped it on her upper arm. It seemed to catch at her flesh, making her wince momentarily with pain. 'This will keep us in mind of each other,' he said. And then he was gone, leaving her to wander back to the city alone.

At last the TARDIS was full-size again! It fluoresced briefly for the last time, and then the door opened and the Doctor stepped out.

'Monitor, I can't thank you enough.'

'Tegan, too,' said the Monitor. 'But please, Doctor. There's really no need . . .'

The Doctor enthusiastically shook the Monitor and Tegan by the hands nevertheless.

'No, you two have saved my life. There have been quite enough deaths already.'

The Monitor was surprised. 'You know about the deaths?'

The Doctor was distressed to learn from the Monitor about the Logopolitan lives that had been lost. But he had been referring to Earth, intending to lead up to something that had to be said. He took the young woman's arm.

'Tegan, your Aunt Vanessa . . .' he began.

'Yes, how do you like that? She's probably back at the cottage by now, with tea and crumpets, while I . . .' She broke off, catching sight of the Doctor's grave expression.

'She's all right, isn't she, Doctor?'

The Doctor told her the news as simply as he could. Tears wel ed up in her deep brown eyes. 'That dear, sweet lady...'

They were standing by the window, looking out over the myriad streets carved into the Logopolitan rock. The Doctor fumbled in his pockets for the cleanest handkerchief he could find, and said, 'That's why I'm going to put a stop to the Master if it's the last thing I do.'

Tegan blew her nose. The Doctor turned from the window and, looking round the big white room, said, 'There were one or two more of us. Where is everybody?'

'Your companions went to hunt for this person called the Master,' the Monitor explained.

'Idiots! Adric should know better by now.'

The Doctor's explosion of anger brought Tegan back to something of her old form. 'He was only trying to help. He saw somebody out there.'

The Doctor swept the common-sense response aside and, telling them to stay in the Central Register, and to be very, very careful, ran from the room. Tegan followed him to the door and watched him sprint down the sweep of carved stone steps that lead to the street.

Adric had turned the corner and run the whole length of the second street before realising Nyssa wasn't with him. When he reached the spot where he had last seen her he called her name again. No responding voice disturbed the distant whispers.

Adric searched like this for what seemed hours. When he finally found her, wandering in a daze quite close to where they had parted, she seemed oblivious of the time that had pa.s.sed.