Part 10 (1/2)

'Now . . . I want no arguments from any of you. Adric, Tegan and Nyssa . . . that way!'

The rocks which had once formed high cliffs around them had now crumbled down to a landscape of gentle undulations; a pink plain lay where the great whispering City had once stood. Beyond the Doctor's gesturing arm they saw only the distant outline of the Central Register, surmounted by the wire basket of the antenna, broke the skyline. But his finger was pointing to a small rectangle some way ahead.

'The TARDIS!' exclaimed Nyssa.

Tegan peered at the distant blue shape. 'It's followed us!'

'But how can it do that,' asked Adric, 'with no one in it?'

'Did I say there was no one in it?' snapped the Doctor.

The two Time Lords stood shoulder to shoulder. The crisp, imperative tone of the Doctor, and something about the evil certainty of the Master's smile, persuaded them of the uselessness of pleading to stay. The Doctor was collaborating with the Master, and there was no place for them now in his plans.

He waved them off with an irritated flap of his arm. 'My friend will take care of you.'

The three companions trudged towards the TARDIS, speculating about who this 'friend'

might be. Nyssa guessed it must be the man who had brought her to Logopolis.

She was right. They saw the translucent figure standing at the door, but he had slipped inside before they were close enough to make out his features. It was not until much later, when the TARDIS was in flight, that they were to meet him face to face.

With a sense of relief the Doctor watched them enter the TARDIS, aware of the evil presence at his elbow. At least there was a chance they would be safe. Then he became aware that the Monitor was nowhere to be seen. 'The fool has deserted us!'

said the Master. 'Doesn't he realise he has no chance of survival without our help?'

Desertion didn't sound like the Monitor's style at all, the Doctor pointed out. He had gone somewhere for a purpose.

'Purpose!' exclaimed the Master. 'A word almost without meaning now. If he's trying to salvage the Research Team's work he may have gone back to the Central Register.'

The Master shaded his eyes and peered towards the distant building. Parts of it had been eroded already, but it seemed to be standing stronger than the rocks around it. It occurred to the Doctor that this might be because of its relative newness. But there was no telling how long it would last.

Together the Doctor and the Master began to pick their way towards it through the debris. Occasional small landslips opened up beneath their feet, impeding their journey, and reminding them of the increasing instability. Soon even this dusty ground would become unstable. And more was at stake than just Logopolis. Even as they advanced painfully towards the Central Register, the rot was spreading outwards through the universe, the Second Law of Thermodynamics unleashed after aeons of constraint.

'I suggest we collect the Monitor, then get out,' said the Doctor.

'How? In my TARDIS?'

'There's no other way.'

The Master smiled. 'You're presuming a lot, Doctor.'

'Aren't I?' said the Doctor. 'And on so short a friends.h.i.+p.'

By the time the two Time Lords had reached the steps of the Central Register the TARDIS was pa.r.s.ecs away. But the dematerialisation had not gone quite according to the Doctor's plans. The light was already flas.h.i.+ng, ready for departure from Logopolis, when the door suddenly opened and Tegan backed out, her flight bag over her shoulder.

'Come back!' It was Adric calling from inside. 'None of us wants to leave the Doctor. But it's best to do as he says.' He appeared at the door, pleading with Tegan.

'Best for him, maybe. It's not personal devotion, I can tell you that. But he's guaranteed to get me back to London Airport, and I'm going to stick with him to make sure he keeps his word.' And she set off resolutely back the way they had come.

'Tegan!' But it was no good just calling her name, and he couldn't run after her and leave Nyssa. The TARDIS was already beginning to chuff and whirr. Adric closed the door . . . and the TARDIS was gone.

Tegan found the spot where the Doctor and the Master had been standing, but the only sign of them was a set of vague footprints. At first it seemed an easy track for someone brought up in the outback to follow, but small potholes kept appearing, and the wind blew streaming veils of dust across the ground, obscuring the horizon.

She was entering what once must have been the middle of the City, if what remained of the dwellings was anything to go by. The ruins were taller here: cells open to the sky, some of them almost complete except for their roofs. The ground was more solid, but in a way that made it more dangerous. Instead of s.h.i.+fting sand beneath her feet, great creva.s.ses would occasionally open up just where she was about to step.

Should she have stayed in the TARDIS, she wondered. That was the trouble with having an independent mind. Tegan consoled herself with the thought that if being lost and frightened on a rapidly disintegrating planet was good for the moral fibre, hers must be receiving a tremendous boost.

The Central Register was still recognisable, although portions of the ceiling and walls had crumbled away, letting in the opalescent light of the Logopolitan sky. The two Time Lords found the Monitor where they expected, seated at the Earth computer surrounded by sheets of print-out. Several of the large disk-drive units that surrounded the console were humming with activity.

The Doctor touched the Monitor's arm. 'The stability is now critical. You must come with us.'

'For precisely that reason I must stay here, Doctor.'

'What can you do here?' said the Master. 'You told us Logopolitan maths wouldn't run on a computer.'

The Monitor gestured to the print-out strewn across the desk in front of him. 'We were developing this as the program to take the burden from our own shoulders: a series of data statements to keep the Charged Vacuum Emboitements open of their own accord.'

'The Advanced Research Project?' asked the Doctor.

The Monitor nodded. 'The computer holds a complete log of that research.'

The Master s.n.a.t.c.hed at the print-out. Somewhere in all this carefully annotated ma.s.s of numbers there might be a permanent solution to the problem of keeping the CVEs open. While the Monitor continued his preoccupation with the console, the Master and the Doctor poured over the doc.u.ment, tracing and retracing the folds of logic.

Eventually, the Master left the doc.u.ment and went to peer over the Monitor's shoulder. It had become clear to the Doctor, who paused now to suck the end of his scarf and think, that although the work of the Research Team was far from complete, it had certainly been on the right track. The Master felt differently. He returned to whisper into the Doctor's ear, 'His work is loose, speculative, useless. We cannot wait for him. We must vacate.'

A creaking sound, emanating from the walls, reminded them that the local structure would not hold much longer. 'Vacate?' echoed the Doctor. 'Where to? The col apse will spread out like ripples in a pool throughout the whole of s.p.a.ce-time. No, what we have to do is . . .' He tailed off into silence, somewhat stuck for options.

'Wel , Doctor?'

The Doctor waved his arms vaguely but enthusiastically. 'A positive response.

Something definite, resourceful. Entropy works by rusting the resolve quite as much as by crus.h.i.+ng cities into sand dunes.'

'You have a concrete idea behind all that poetry, Doctor?' sneered the Master.

The Doctor had to admit he hadn't. He put his hands back in his pockets and returned to his study of the print-out.

'My dear Doctor. You're a poor scientist. It's easy to see why you make so many mistakes.'

'And why you make so few friends,' the Doctor replied.

The bitter exchange was interrupted by the Monitor rising from the Earth computer. 'I have done what I can in the time. A desperate last effort. It only remains to align the antenna and beam the program out to s.p.a.ce.' The antenna still held firm on what remained of the roof. It was a doubtful enterprise; even the Doctor for all his optimism had to admit that. He was about to follow the Monitor through the narrow door that lead to the upper storey, when, through a gaping hole in the wall, he saw a familiar purple uniform in the street below. 'Tegan!' shouted the Doctor.

'Thank heavens you're still here, anyway.' She arrived breathless at the top of the steps, her uniform dusty and her shoes scuffed.

'Tegan! I told you to get out of here.'