Part 2 (1/2)

At first, nothing seemed to happen, then suddenly the twins'

expressions went quite blank as though their personalities had been drained from them. Edgeworth ordered the twins to show him their hands. This they did in a pa.s.sive, unquestioning way. He then asked them where they were, and as hard as they tried, they couldn't remember.

Edgeworth smiled. The drug had worked perfectly. The twins were without conscious memory. When he got them back to the freighter, he would loosen the drug's control, but until then, it was safer that they remained zombie-like.

Edgeworth pulled back the sleeve of his smock and exposed a bracelet. He fiddled with it for a second then ordered the twins to grip his hands. This they did, and a second later the trio dematerialised, leaving a fine powdery deposit on the bedroom floor.

Outside, the ginger torn stood guard over his territory. He knew what had happened. He had sensed the freighter pull out of orbit and set a course for one of the bleakest areas in the universe. He knew all this, but would tell no-one.

The front door of twenty-five Lydall Street was closed with a loud slam. Standing in the hall was Professor Archie Sylvest. He was very drunk. The Voxnic had flowed like a cascading waterfall, but it had not been in the company of computer programmer Vestal Smith. It had been with a less satisfying companion - her husband.

In an attempt to placate him, Archie had persuaded Mr Smith to accompany him to his favourite Voxnic bar and discuss the reasons why he desired so much deep understanding from his wife. It had required what seemed like a lake of Voxnic to convince him that his relations.h.i.+p was platonic, innocent and perfectly reasonable.

Archie had no idea whether Mr Smith had believed him, but with the additional comfort of a hundred thousand dollar World Federation currency note, the Neanderthal husband of Vestal Smith had seemed happy to stagger off into the night, his dignity and pride supposedly restored.

Archie lurched along the top landing towards his hateful children's bedroom. It made him feel better when he realised that Nimo had yet to return home. At least she wouldn't see him drunk again or be able to ask him why he looked so pale and why the sleeve of his coat was torn.

Swaying slightly, Archie stood before the door of the twin's room.

He wasn't certain whether he should go in as he was far from well enough to cope with their antics.

It was at that moment he noticed the smell.

Cautiously he pushed open the bedroom door. He'd been right. He had smelt zanium. Archie entered the room and called for his children. There was no reply. He then checked their beds - they were empty and unslept in.

Archie began to panic. He bent down and, like an Indian tracker, picked up a little zanium on the tips of his fingers and sniffed it.

Any doubt as to what had happened faded from his mind. Zanium was caused by only one thing: the function of a matter transporter.

When a solid body dematerialises, tiny trace elements in the atmosphere called nistron carbonise and fall like very fine, grey snow.

The Voxnic-fuddled mind of Archie began to clear. How had the intruders got in? he thought. The house was protected.

Archie staggered out of the bedroom and half-fell, half-stumbled down the stairs and into the sitting room. Standing like some ornament in a sc.r.a.p yard was the babysitter android - it had been deactivated, something the manufacturers had maintained was impossible.

He then staggered along to the cellar. As with the android, the house protection unit had also been deactivated.

Sylvest sat on the steps of the cellar. In Archie's mind there was no doubt that the twins had been kidnapped. And such was the planning, effort and technology required, he was also convinced it was the work of an alien force. He would have to inform the authorities. Whereas the emotional ties with his hateful children were fragile, there were other considerations to bear in mind. He might not mourne their death, but he might live to regret their work on some scheme inspired by evil for he was convinced they had been kidnapped to this end.

Slowly he shuffled to the nearest transmitter unit. A moment later he was talking to the head of the Intergalactic Task Force.

In the console room aboard the TARDIS, things were again quiet.

The Doctor stared at a dial on the control board in front of him. He wasn't certain why he was doing this, as he was none too certain what the dial was telling him. The one thing that was clear to him was that something unpleasant had occurred. The look of hate and mistrust on Peri's face told the whole universe that simple fact.

The Time Lord smiled weakly at his companion. He was desperate for a response, some crumb of information that might help him remember what had occurred. For all that was in his mind was a void, a black impenetrable void. So the Doctor did the obvious thing: he asked.

Peri's response was like a dam bursting. At first he couldn't believe what he was being told, but the pa.s.sion, feeling and fear of the telling soon changed his mind.

The words continued to pour from Peri's mouth until the Doctor could stand it no longer. But it was too late. He could no longer hide behind his ignorance. The black, protective void that had s.h.i.+elded his mind had been ripped away, like a band aid covering a particularly nasty sore. He now remembered everything and he hated himself for it.

The Doctor clamped his hands to the side of his head and screamed and screamed and screamed. Peri thought the Doctor was having another fit and picked up the mirror in case he again became violent. But instead he turned on the console and started to set switches, twist k.n.o.bs and pull levers. A new fear entered Peri's head. She wondered if the Doctor still knew how to operate the time-machine. Worse still, she remembered that the Doctor had once said the TARDIS had a self-destruct device and feared he might operate it by mistake.

'Please be careful.'

'Careful? Careful! I tried to kill you! I am a living peril!' Each sentence built in volume until he was shouting, his voice thick with emotion. 'I do not know how to ask your forgiveness,' he wailed.

'You're forgiven, Doc. Just don't destroy the TARDIS by mistake.'

The Doctor was no longer listening. Once more he was at work, this time making fine adjustments to the coordinates he had set.

'The universe is at risk with me in this state,' he muttered. 'I must cleanse my mind ...' He paused dramatically, like a Victorian actor.

Peri braced herself, ready for anything. 'Self-abnegation,' was the cry from the Doctor. He looked around, as though waiting for a burst of applause from the stalls. 'Self-abnegation in some h.e.l.lish wilderness!' Each word rolled and thundered around the console room. 'Ten days - ten years - a thousand! Of what account is time to me?'

Poor Peri gave up. She couldn't keep pace with the Doctor's changing mood. She now wished he had killed her. At least that would have been quick. 'A thousand years?' she enquired. 'Aren't you forgetting? I'm from Earth. Our allotted span is about seventy years, and I've already had twenty of them.'

The Doctor looked haughtily at his companion. 'I was speaking figuratively. It shouldn't come to that.'

'Look, Doc, I really do forgive you. I now understand what you're going through. You're not in control of yourself. All you need is rest. A short holiday.'

'I need a hermitage.' He hadn't heard a word Peri had said. 'Some utterly comfortless place where we can suffer together.'

'Hang on.' For Peri this wasn't good news. 'Why should / be made to suffer. It was you who tried to kill me. I am the innocent party here.'

'Who in this life is ever purely innocent?' The Victorian actor had gone. In his place was an old Testament prophet, determined to see no-one have a good time. The Doctor's voice had also dropped a full octave for this role. If it hadn't been so frightening, Peri would have found it all rather impressive.

'You have been chosen,' the Doctor boomed, jabbing a rigid index finger at Peri, 'to minister to my needs... They will be very simple... But nothing must be allowed to interfere with my period of contemplation.'

'This isn't fair!' Peri was now on the verge of tears. 'And who is supposed to have appointed me your servant?'

'Providence!'

'Look, Doctor, you're in a crazy state of mind. If you want to go anywhere, go to your home planet. They can help you there.' Then even more desperately she added, 'I don't think you realise how mentally unstuck you've become.'

'I have already spoken!'