Doctor Who_ Logopolis Part 8

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.

'Did you find him?' was all she asked.

Adric shook his head. 'We'd better get back to the Doctor.' After they had walked through several streets, during which time Nyssa had only answered in monosyllables his attempts to talk to her, he stopped and said, 'Nyssa? Are you all right?'

A faint smile lit up her small round face. 'My father's here.'

'Your father? So you found him!' Adric exclaimed.

Nyssa seemed to hesitate. 'Yes . . . it was my father.'

'But that's wonderful. What's he doing here on Logopolis?'

She had been sworn to secrecy, so she said nothing of the 'mission'. But she did show Adric the armlet. 'It's too small for me. I've been trying to get it off . . .'

It was certainly pinching into her forearm. But when Adric inspected it he was surprised to discover that the precious stones inlaid into the chased gold were electronically illuminated from inside. 'It's a sort of . . . communications device. Yes, it does look tight .

Tugging at it may have disturbed a loose connection, because it sparked suddenly.

Adric jumped back, feeling a powerful electric shock. He recovered almost immediately, and was surprised to find that Nyssa had felt nothing.

All she said was, 'I hope you haven't broken it.'

He tried a second time to remove it. There was just enough room to get one of his thumbs under it, and he was experimenting with the best way of gripping it with the other hand when he noticed Nyssa's arm begin to flex in a curious mechanical way. The hand opened and with clinical precision began to advance towards his neck.

'Hey, what are you doing? I'm trying to concentrate,' Adric laughed.

The hand was closing on his throat. Adric was surprised at the strength in those small fingers, but the most extraordinary thing of all was that Nyssa herself seemed not to notice anything at all. Her face was averted, entranced while the steel grip bit tighter into his neck.

And then he heard a voice he had thought he might never hear again.

'Adric! Nyssa!'

The Doctor was striding down the street towards them. The fingers around Adric's throat instantly relaxed, and Nyssa cried out with delight, 'Doctor! You're free!'

9.

Adric's delight at seeing the Doctor again was tempered by a feeling of guilt at having abandoned him to the perilous instability of the TARDIS to go off hunting for the Master with Nyssa. The Doctor left them in no doubt that they were lucky to have survived the folly; and then as they hurried back to the Central Register, seemed prepared to drop the subject. There was one thing he wanted to clear up, though. 'Tegan says you saw him.'

'Yes, here, in one of these streets,' said Adric.

'What did he look like?' the Doctor asked innocently.

Adric was confused. He had only once seen the Master, on Traken in his guise as the Melkur. And yet he knew by instinct. 'You know. The man you were talking to on the bridge . . .'

'The man on the bridge?' repeated the Doctor.

'Yes . . .' The boy hesitated, thrown by the Doctor's tone of irritation. Then it happened again - as if just thinking of that vaguely outlined watching figure were enough to conjure him up! Adric was sure he wasn't seeing things. The figure was at ground level this time, standing still and translucent at the far end of the street. The boy pointed.

'There, that's him.'

Adric thought he heard Nyssa gasp, but turned to find her laughing. 'That can't be the Master . . .' she said. 'That's the man who brought me here from Traken. A friend of yours, Doctor.'

Adric was astonished, but the Doctor confirmed her story with an uneasy nod. 'Yes, a sort of . . . pa.s.sing acquaintance. He brought you here on my account.'

Adric still felt some dread at meeting this creature whose presence he had once felt sure even the Doctor feared. But as they approached, some cloud must have s.h.i.+fted overhead, because a shaft of sunlight hit the spot where the figure had been standing.

The gleam thrown back from the pink rock momentarily dazzled Adric. He blinked his eyes, and when he looked again . . . 'Doctor, he's gone!'

Oddly the Doctor didn't seem surprised.

Who was this dreamlike figure who seemed to be hovering on the edge of their existence? As they pressed on towards the Central Register Adric pursued the subject.

'I was almost sure it was the Master.'

'I warned you against unnecessary guesswork,' snapped the Doctor.

'But he was the man who told you bad luck was on the way.'

'He was right,' said the Doctor. 'And worse to come.'

Worse! Why was the Doctor so sure?

'And you believe him?' the boy persisted. 'Why?'

'Because he is here,' said the Doctor, his eyes fixed on the route ahead. Like so much that the Doctor said it seemed to make no sense. It would have puzzled Adric more if he had known that on this occasion the Doctor was speaking no more than the exact and literal truth.

It still didn't seem right to Tegan. She watched the serious faces of the two Logopolitans who had come to collect the stabilising screens around the TARDIS, and, while they silently wheeled them through into one of the External Registers, wondered if there would ever be any - well, fun on Logopolis?

The Monitor tried to tell her of the invisible joy that comes from selfless dedication, but she couldn't understand it. In a way it was presumptuous of her to try; Logopolis was a completely different civilisation from anything she was used to. And yet Tegan still had this feeling that the Monitor was concealing something.

The two Logopolitans rounded a corner and wheeled the pair of screens through into the second External Register. Of the long row of Numberers busy chanting into the apertures, only one turned from his work to watch them pa.s.s. He wore the dark flowing robe of a Logopolitan, but he lacked the pale complexion, and his face was brightly animated above his sharp black beard. With the faintest chuckle the Master rose and followed the two screens.

The door to the Technology Store opened to admit the screen-bearers. But before they could pa.s.s through, a discreet flash and short sizzling sound halted the screens in the doorway.

Nothing had happened to distract the busy Numberers. Had they looked up they would have seen one of the two screens turn in the doorway to face the way it had come, manoeuvred by a single figure in dark flowing Logopolitan robes. A faintly sweet smell of ozone hung in the air. The two screen-bearers lay in the doorway, their corpses shrunken to the size of dolls.

The Master took a small silver box from the folds of his robes and attached it to the rim of the screen. A change came over the long hall: all sound drained from the scene, and then one by one the Numberers froze into immobility. All that penetrated the deadly silence was a tiny chuckle of triumph.

Beneath her aggressive exterior, which the Monitor a.s.sumed was due to feelings of insecurity in the alien surroundings, Tegan was clearly an intelligent young woman. But he judged hers to be a mind not drawn to abstractions: the objects of her thought were concrete.

This presented a difficulty in the way of conversation while they waited for the Doctor to bring back Adric and Nyssa. The Logopolitan world was predominantly a world of thought; such solid furnis.h.i.+ng as lay about the place were incidental to the life of the City. By way of compromise they settled upon a discussion of the screens, items of solid technology that had certainly proved useful.

The Monitor heard the door behind them open. As if by way of ill.u.s.tration, one of the screens they had been discussing appeared there. He moved towards it, about to question its return. The man dressed as a Logopolitan was clearly an alien. The Monitor halted in his tracks; the newcomer radiated evil.