PALACE OF THE

RED SUN

CHRISTOPHER BULIS

Published by BBC Worldwide Ltd,

Woodlands, 80 Wood Lane

London W12 OTT

First published 2002

Copyright © Christopher Bulis 2002

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Original series broadcast on the BBC

Format © BBC 1963

Doctor Who and TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC

ISBN 0 563 53849 X

Imaging by Black Sheep, copyright © BBC 2002

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham

Cover printed by Belmont Press Ltd, Northampton

Prologue

The last of the Imperial guards fell defending the doors of the

audience chamber, cut down by the relentless hail of the

invaders' gunfire A few shots flashed over their twisted

bodies and struck the ornate doors themselves, blasting

through the precious inlaid wood until they exposed the

heavy metal plate that formed the door's core.

'Cease fire!'

The clipped, commanding tones sounded over the

attackers' helmet phones. It was a voice that expected and

received immediate obedience.

They drew aside as a figure strode up the corridor, his

scarlet battle armour contrasting sharply with their utilitarian

grey. There was no insignia of rank on his breastplate, but

then none was needed. From the lowliest trooper to the most

venerable general, all knew him; and out of fear or love, or

some strange combination of the two, followed where he led

without question.

Two small flying disks also seemed strongly attracted to

the scarlet warrior. They swooped and bobbed in his wake,

binocular lenses glittering as they refocused, capturing his

image from different angles even as their microphones

faithfully recorded his every word. One disk bore the marking

DAVE#3, the other DAVE# 1 1 .

The scarlet warrior stepped over the bodies of the fallen

until he stood before the high double doors of the audience

chamber. He clasped their ornate handles and pushed, but

they did not move. He turned to the squad commander.

'Are all the exits covered?'

'Yes, sir. The royal family definitely came this way. They

must be inside.

The scarlet warrior raised a gauntleted fist and drove it

against the charred and splintered wood with all the power of

his suit's servo boosters. Three times the booming knock

rang out, then he spoke, his voice amplified though his chest

speaker.

'Hathold! Hear me! This is Glavis Judd. The city has been

taken. There is no escape. Surrender now and you have my

word there will be no further bloodshed.'

There was no sound from beyond the doors. Judd

pounded on them again.

'Resistance can serve no further purpose. Your soldiers

fought bravely, Hathold, but they are beaten. You and your

family will be unharmed, but only if you surrender to me now!

You have one minute to open these doors. But I warn you,

my patience will not extend one second longer.'

The DAVE units glided closer to Judd as the minute

slipped away, focusing on his cold eyes as they glittered

behind his helmet visor. The doors before him remained

closed, silently defying him. Some of the watching soldiers

trembled at the intolerable affront to their leader.

When the time was up, Judd said coldly: 'Bring up a

cannon'

A self-propelled energy cannon rumbled through the

palace corridors, its tracks grinding on the marble floors, and

came to a halt before the closed doors. Its turret swung

around as it aligned the projector with the target.

'Visors!' the squad commander called out to his men. The

lenses of the DAVE units darkened as the soldiers snapped

down protective shields.

An incandescent beam lashed out from the projector and

struck the base of one half of the tall doors in a shower of

sparks. The wood sheathing was instantly blasted away in

blazing fragments.

The tough alloy beneath resisted for a second or two, glowing

cherry red then yellow, before decomposing into molten

rivulets. The projector swung steadily upward, drawing an

arch of fire in the doors. Smoke filled the corridor. A hanging

tapestry beside the doorway began to smoulder in the

reflected heat.

The beam faded as it touched the base of the opposite

door. The cannon drove forward and struck the doors with its

ram bars. The excised section fell inwards with a leaden

boom.

'Take them alive if possible!' Judd ordered.

Soldiers poured through into the chamber beyond,

swinging their weapons about to cover every corner. In a few

seconds the call came back: 'The room is secure! One

prisoner, under guard'

The ever-attentive DAVE units caught the frown that

flickered across Judd's brow as he strode through the

smoking archway. One prisoner only?

The audience chamber was all gilt and marble, hung about

with centuries-old shields and portraits. Relics of times past

but still impressive in an age of starflight, they chronicled the

heritage of those who had ruled Esselven - until today. Along

one wall great windows stretched from floor to ceiling, looking

out across gardens to the city beyond. Many buildings were

burning, sending columns of black smoke into the sky which

were in turn cut across by the contrails of warplanes.

At the far end of the chamber, flanked by massive

columns, was a raised dais on which rested a massive, high-

backed throne of carved wood so old and time-worn as to be

almost black. The seat of the rulers of Esselven for almost a

thousand years, now it was empty and unguarded. Judd

spared it barely a second glance.

On either side of the throne were lesser chairs for

advisors. On one of these sat a grey-haired man with a guard

standing alertly behind him. He wore a dark Esselvanian

formal suit and about his shoulders hung a gold and ruby

chain of office.

Judd stood in front of the old man 'Chancellor Dhalron,

isn't it? Hathold and his family - where are they?' he

demanded.

Dhalron said nothing, continuing to sit with his hands

folded across his lap, staring at some point beyond Judd as

though he was not there. One of the DAVEs glided to one

side to capture him in the same frame as Judd.

His guard ground the muzzle of his rifle into Dhalron's

neck. 'Answer when the Protector asks you a question!'

Dhalron looked slowly up at Judd, his face radiating utter

contempt. '"Protector". Is that what you call yourself now, Judd? Too ashamed to be known as the tyrant that you are -'

The guard drove the butt of his rifle into Dhalron's back,

sending the old man sprawling from the chair onto his hands

and knees. A DAVE darted in for a close-up shot. With

dogged slowness, Dhalron hauled himself back onto his seat.

A mirthless smile overlaid the pain on his face. He pulled a

fine linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his lips,

then met Judd's gaze without fear.

'That was a taste of your benevolent protection, I take it?'

'You will not be harmed if you tell me where Hathold and

his family have gone. We know they came in here. How did

they leave?'

Fiery defiance burned behind the old man's eyes.

'They've gone where you cannot find them, Judd. I am too

old to run, but the royal family are still young. They will rally

the resistance to you. You think you have taken Esselven?

No! A hollow victory. You don't have the keys of Esselven.

Without them the planet will never be truly yours. One day

they'll return... to take back... what's theirs...'

Dhalron's words were becoming disjointed. His head

slowly bowed forward. Judd clasped him by the collar and

lifted him off his feet until his face was level with his own. The

Chancellor's eyes stared sightlessly through him into infinity.

The clenched hand that had held the handkerchief slowly

opened and a small empty plastic vial fell to the floor.

For a moment it seemed that Judd would throw the body

aside in his rage at such an act of defiance. But his mind

mastered his emotions, and instead he set it carefully back

down on the chair. The face he turned to his anxious soldiers

was perfectly composed.

'There is a concealed exit to this room. Find it!'

When Dexel Dynes walked in fifteen minutes later, Judd's

men had already torn down half the wall panelling and an

engineering team were running scanners over the floor.

Dynes stepped nimbly aside as another panel fell with a

crash, brushing specks of dust from the black trenchcoat and

fedora with white piping trim that was the traditional dress of

his profession. Half a dozen DAVE drones followed him into

the room. With a few words he directed four of them to record

the search, while the other two remained hovering above and

behind his shoulders.

Judd was sitting on the ancient throne at the far end of the

chamber. He was still in his battle armour, though he had

removed his helmet. He looked up as Dynes approached.

'I thought you'd appear once the fighting was over,' Judd

said sharply.

'I never pretended to be a soldier, Protector,' Dynes

responded smoothly. 'The press is always neutral. I don't

take sides in a war, I just report events as I see them.

Besides, I had to stay in my ship to coordinate the coverage.

I got some very newsworthy material during the final assault

on the city. Can you tell the public how it feels to have

conquered Esselven?'

A couple of DAVEs moved in to catch Judd's response.

'If you've been watching your own cameras, you will know

that I have not truly conquered Esselven yet,' Judd said. 'Not

while the royal family and their personal servants are still at

large. But I will find them, wherever they're hiding.'

That was what made Judd such an interesting media type,

Dynes thought. He never overestimated his own

achievements or accepted unjustified flattery. It suggested he

was something more than a thuggish warmonger. Research

showed these sort of personal insights helped keep the A

and B bracket viewers watching his reports back home. Mix

that with enough violence and gore to keep the D and E sub-

lits happy and it made a winning formula.

'And what do you plan to do when you do find them?'

Dynes asked, hoping silently for another trial and execution.

The ratings for the last one had been tremendous.

Before Judd could reply, one of the engineers called out:

'Sir - look at this!'

A section of the column to the left of the throne had swung

open to reveal a narrow lift shaft that vanished into depths of

the earth.

'First team, form up!' Judd snapped. 'Find out where this

leads. Use no lethal force. Any natives you encounter are to

be held for interrogation.'

But even as the battle-suited soldiers began to descend

the shaft, a call came through on the command channel on

Judd's suit speaker: 'Protector from Admiral Tacc - urgent!'

'Judd receiving. What is it, Tacc?'

'A ship has just launched from a concealed silo in the

mountains to the north of the city. It appears to be making for

open space. I have ordered the cruisers Adrax and Gantor to

intercept'

Dynes saw Judd's fist bunch within his armoured gauntlet

until the fabric creaked audibly. 'It is likely the ship contains

members of the Esselvanian royal family. They are to be

taken alive if possible, Tacc'

'Understood, Protector. The ship will be force-locked and

boarded. The cruisers are now within three hundred

kilometres and closing... The enemy ship is accelerating at

unusually high velocity... One hundred kilometres... Beams

activated, force lock forming... No!'

'What happened, Tacc?' Judd demanded.

There was a pause, then the Admiral replied, with a

noticeable tremor in his voice. 'I regret to inform you,

Protector, that the enemy ship has entered hyperspace. They

took a considerable risk in jumping so soon. They were well

below the minimum safe distance for this planet's gravity well

and probably suffered damage to their hyperdrive. Do you

wish the pursuit to continue, sir?'

Dynes watched Judd's face, knowing as well as he and

Tacc that it was virtually impossible to intercept a ship in

hyperspace unless its course was already known with

reasonable accuracy. But if Judd ordered it, the entire fleet

would scour hyperspace for a century. And if Judd ordered it,

Tacc would step out of an airlock as punishment for failure.

Judd was utterly ruthless in matters of discipline, but also by

his own rules, scrupulously fair.

'Stand down the pursuit, Tacc. I shall catch those fish by

other means'

'As you command, Protector,' said Tacc, audibly relieved.

Judd looked about him at the waiting soldiers, then down

at Dhalron's body still slumped in its chair.

'The keys of Esselven. What did you mean, old man?'

Judd scowled in deep thought for a moment, then snapped:

'Where are the City treasures kept? There must be a vault

somewhere. Find it!'

An hour later they stood in an anteroom at the bottom of a

shaft extending fifteen hundred metres beneath the city.

Before them was a massive grey circular door, shimmering

slightly behind a force field. Judd's engineers were working

intently at a console mounted beside the door. Judd stood

and watched them in silence, his face impassive.

Dynes observed Judd in turn, knowing the inner rage that

drove

the man was in check for the moment, but wondering how

long it would remain so.

Eventually the chief engineer made his report.

'Protector, this is a Radzell and Styne Maxima Vault. I

have only ever seen them described in technical journals. It is

said to be the most secure installation of its kind It . cannot

be forced.'

'Anything can be forced if enough power is applied' Judd

said. 'With respect, Protector, in this case only at the cost of

totally destroying the contents. The vault has its own internal

power source, collapsium-lined walls reinforced by internal

fields and an external force shield. Any explosive device

yielding a megatonne or higher would rupture it... but there

would be nothing left within.'

'Then cut it open!'

The engineer chewed his lip anxiously. 'Protector, the

vault will be programmed to resist beams or material drills as

long as it can, but as soon as it is breached it will self-

destruct.'

'Then if it cannot be forced, how can it be unlocked?'

'The key is based around a whole body DNA scan,

Protector. If a person whose pattern has been entered in the

vault's memory banks stands before it and is recognised, it

can simply be ordered to open its door'

'Can this be bypassed?'

'The scanning system is entirely self-contained, Protector.

It will only respond to a living body with the right DNA pattern'

'Might it be programmed to recognise members of the

same family?'

'Very possibly, Protector. Depending on the discrimination

of the system, it might even be designed to accept genetically

related individuals who have not specifically been

programmed into its memory.'

"The Esselvanian royal family, for instance?'

'Quite possibly, Protector.'

'So that is what Dhalron meant about the keys!' Judd said

half to himself. 'Well, you have said what cannot be done,

what of positive use have you discovered?' he demanded of

the engineer.

'The inventory is accessible, sir,' the engineer said hastily,

beckoning Judd over to the console. 'You can see what has

been stored in the vault.'

Dynes peered past Judd's shoulder and a DAVE unit tilted

forward to scan the list as it scrolled across the screen.

There was more than material treasure in the vault. The

images and descriptions of stores of precious metals and

ancient items of royal regalia Judd passed over quickly,

clearly expecting such things. But then he came to the

archives of Esselven. There were deeds and charters,

census data, legal judgements, trading agreements with

other planetary systems, the computer codes that controlled

the world transport net and stellar communication web. And

each one was listed as a unique item - all other copies were

shown as having been destroyed just hours earlier.

They were the tools with which an advanced society

functioned - and they were locked away beyond Judd's

reach. Without them whatever puppet administration Judd put

in power could not operate properly. Judd viewed sound

government as a hallmark of his rule. Every world he had

conquered thus far worked with order, precision and ruthless

efficiency. The people might live in fear, but there was full

employment and none lacked the necessities of life.

Gradually resistance was stifled by pragmatic acceptance.

But it would not be so on Esselven. It might take years to

recreate what lay in the vault, and meanwhile, as their society

failed about them, the people would know who was to blame.

It would be a constant reminder that Judd was not all

powerful. Such conditions would breed resentment - and

opposition.

Dynes saw the full implications dawning on Judd and took

a step backward.

'I will not be defied like this!' Judd roared.

There was a crack and chips of concrete pinged and

skittered across the floor.

Slowly, as his men looked on in frozen fear, Judd withdrew

his gloved fist from the pulverised indentation he had

punched into the wall. If mere anger and determination could

have breached the vault, Dynes thought, then its door would

be lying a shattered wreck at that moment.

Then Judd's iron will and calculating mind were in control

again; governing and channelling the emotions that had

driven him to conquer twenty star systems. Judd took a deep

breath and looked upwards, as though penetrating the

thickness of rock above their heads with the force of his gaze

until he saw the stars.

'Wherever you've gone, Hathold, I'll find you,' he said

evenly. 'You will open this vault for me. I will be master of

Esselven!'

Chapter One

'What am I doing here?'

The thought came as though out of nowhere, to the

complete surprise of the thinker.

Then the sensation of surprise itself also registered,

initiating a cascade of response and association which

almost overwhelmed the thinker's mind Then, surfacing out of

the wild storm of images and ideas, came the question:

'I, I... what do I mean by "I"?'

Momentarily the contradiction posed by the very structure

of the question seemed unresolvable. Unthinking, unfeeling

greyness threatened to return. Then the tentative answer

emerged:

‘“I" is self. "I" is me.'

It had never meant that before. Previously 'I' had just been

an abstract concept (first person nominative singular

pronoun) to produce at the proper moment in a sentence

obeying certain rules of syntax and grammar. Now it had

value, meaning. For the first time it was truly personal.

Personal to him.

Him?

(Pronoun. Objective [accusative dative] case of 'He', came

the unbidden knowledge once again.)

Him... he? Was that right? It seemed so. It would certainly

serve as well as any other term. He also had a name but he

realised, with a grasp of perception deepening from moment

to moment, that it was no more than a functional designation.

He looked around at the fields and the sun and the sky.

They were as they should be, and his place in relation to

them remained as it had been only moments before. But it

was as though he was seeing them for the first time. He had

never appreciated that the pattern of furrows in a ploughed

field could mirror the striations of a high cloud. Each leaf was

so intricately formed. A bee hummed past and he marvelled

at the play of light across its shimmering wings...

He covered his eyes to prevent his mind from being

overloaded and for a timeless interval remained motionless.

Only when he was certain he could control the flow of raw

sensation did he look about him once more.

The world on which he dwelt was wonderful and yet also

disturbing. He knew his place in the order of society that

inhabited its surface, but now there was no comfort in that

knowledge, only a growing sense of dissatisfaction. Simple

purpose was no longer sufficient. Questions were arising

within him that demanded answers. But who could he ask?

Turning about in desperation he saw another of his kind

working at the border of a field. He headed for him as fast as

he was able, calling out his questions ahead of him.

And received only incomprehension in return.

Desperately he probed his fellow for a companion spark of

individuality within... and found none. Whatever he was

experiencing meant nothing to the other.

Over the next three work periods, he questioned all the

workers under his command and discovered all were equally

unresponsive. They functioned efficiently, they responded in

a mimicry of thought and animation, but there was nothing

more. Did this mean that he was unique? Was this what

'loneliness' felt like?

Twelve more work periods passed before he encountered

any other beings. In the distance he saw a party of riders

heading north along one of the great avenues that cut

through the fields.

They were Lords, of course, and he knew he had no right

to interfere with their progress in any way, far less initiate a

conversation. But surely they would understand. Driven by

need he forced himself onto the road ahead of them and held

his arms out wide as a signal they should halt.

At the last moment they reined in the mounts, seeming

reluctant to acknowledge his presence.

'Why does it bar our path?' the young man at the head of

the group asked in mild surprise.

'I know not, My Prince,' another replied vaguely.

He tried to ask his questions, to beg an explanation of why

he was here, to understand the purpose of his existence - but

he could not speak! The effort of overcoming the deeply

imprinted rules that underlaid the structure of his

consciousness had rendered him mute. He could only jerk his

arms about as though trying to shape words out of thin air.

He saw them losing interest in him, looking across the

fields and ignoring his silent pleas.

'We have made good time, My Prince,' a second man

commented.

'But there is still a fair ride yet ahead until the borders of

Aldermar,' the Prince said. let us be on our way again. I do

not wish the Duke to arrive before us.'

And the riders guided their mounts around him and

continued on at a steady pace so that in minutes they were

lost over the horizon, leaving a lonely and disconsolate figure

on the road behind them. Why had he not been able to

speak? Was he a complete prisoner of his predestined

nature?

Frustrated anguish resonated and grew within his mind

until it could no longer be contained.

'Please, somebody help me!' the robot cried aloud.

But the landscape ate up the words of the plaintive appeal

and their fields of whispering gold and green stalks offered

nothing back in return. He would have to wait long for an

answer.

And wait... and wait...

* * *

Time passed, as it always did here, almost without being

noticed...

From the shelter of the bushes, Kel, Nerla and Raz watched

the gardeners move through the orchard, picking the ripest

apples and placing them carefully in their baskets. The

watchers knew that the fruit was meant for the Big House, but

they still intended to have their share.

The three thieves in waiting were hardly more than

children, though long ago hardened to their precarious

existence. Under their patchwork clothes of roughly stitched

plastic and sacking fabric, overlain with ingrained dirt and

grime, their skins were pale. They didn't venture this far into

the sunside often, and when they did they kept to the

shadows.

Kel grinned at his companions. They were the best

scavenger team amongst all the people, he thought, because

they dared to go further into the gardens than any of the rest.

Even though Nerla was a girl and Raz had a twisted foot,

they always came back from a hunt with food and useful

things that only the gardeners had. But they were all growing

bigger, and the best garden scavengers were small and agile.

Soon Kel and Raz would be old enough to join the men in

hunting animals in the forest and Nerla would have to start

having children.

The gardeners disappeared through a gate in the wall at

the far end of the orchard.

Kel pointed and without a word they scampered from their

cover to the nearest tree. Kel- and Nerla scrambled up into

the lower branches while Raz held an empty sack ready

below them. They had already raided a vegetable patch and

one sack slung over Raz's shoulder was bulging with edible

roots.

Apples began raining down from the branches, which Raz

deftly caught and bagged. In a couple of minutes they had

stripped all the fruit they could reach. There was still some

room left in the sack, so Kel gestured at the next tree. Nerla

and Raz nodded. They clambered down and across the grass

and up a second tree. Apples started dropping into Raz's

waiting hands again.

Then Nerla gave a warning hiss. Raz dropped flat and

slithered into the shelter of a trunk, while Kel froze, only his

eyes moving as he strained to see what had alarmed Nerla.

Through the tangle of leaves he saw the unmistakable figure

of a gardener moving purposefully along the aisle between

the last row of trees and the high garden wall.

Hardly daring to breathe, Kel watched the gardener's

progress. Perhaps he was simply passing through the

orchard. If they kept still they should be safe.

But when he was almost level with them the gardener

stopped abruptly.

Kel saw his head turn about, as though searching for

something. Then he set off again, but this time cutting across

the rows of apple trees, their branches brushing his high

shoulders as he headed directly for them. He must have seen

them!

Mingled with the thrill of fear that coursed through Kel was

the horror of failure. They must get the food home. They

always came back with something...

With a yell, Kel snatched at an apple and dropped to the

ground. He ran straight for the gardener and threw his

improvised missile so hard that it burst across his chest. The

gardener grabbed at him but Kel sprang nimbly aside out of

his reach.

'Yahh! No catch me!' he taunted, then darted away through

the trees with the gardener in pursuit. But Kel knew he was

faster than any gardener. He would lead him in the opposite

direction, while Raz and Nerla got away with their spoils, then

he would lose him and make his own way back.

An open garden gate appeared in the wall ahead of Kel

and he plunged through it out of the orchard. Beyond were

row upon row of berry canes strung from wires spanning the

ground between the walls and filling the air with their sweet

scent. He dashed along the first row then ducked down and

scrabbled through the narrow space between the canes,

heedless of their thorns. Back on his feet he sprinted away

again.

He would find another gate and then somewhere to hide

until the gardeners gave up their pursuit. They would never

find him. He was Kel, he was the best!

He scrambled through the next fence of canes and

crashed into something solid. Before he could pull away a

gloved but steely-hard hand closed about his arm. Kicking

and yelling, Kel was hauled upright to find himself staring into

the implacable face of a second gardener.

'You are a scavenger,' the gardener said, contriving to put

a sense of loathing into his flat voice. 'You are a blight on the

gardens. You will not be allowed to steal from them again!'

'I will not be made to wed against the calling of my heart!'

Oralissa said, stamping her foot for emphasis.

Her face was flushed with anger, though this was invisible

in the blood-red sunlight streaming almost horizontally

through the window of the dayside drawing room. The white

light of the glow tubes that lightened the shadows within the

room revealed her parents' faces were unhappy but resolute.

A touch of pink highlighted her mother's cheeks as she stared

with unlikely interest at the pattern on the rug, while her

father tugged on his beard, a thing he only did when he was

deeply troubled.

'I'm sorry, child,' her father said. You know I would not ask

such a thing of you except compelled by great need. We

must have an alliance of strength in these troubled times.

Eridros and Corthane are our neighbours. A union with either

would make us secure. One of the twain it must be'

'But Aldermar is high amongst the Nine Kingdoms!'

Oralissa protested. ‘We have a strong army and great

fortresses. Who do we fear, Father?'

'Aldermar is not as great as it was. Others have grown

strong while we have but held our ground. There are stirrings

in the East we can no longer ignore. For the sake of our

country you must do this, Oralissa.'

'It is not as though you are being forced to cleave to any

one man, dear,' her mother pointed out with an effort to

sound reasonable. 'You may choose either the Duke or the

Prince. Both have many fine qualities. Why, most girls would

be envious of such a circumstance, and worry only that they

would make the best choice between two such suitable

mates.'

'But I do not want to choose either Duke or Prince,'

Oralissa said. She clasped her hands together before her.

'When I marry I want it to be for love, to one whose soul sings

with mine!'

Her father muttered: 'That maid of hers has been telling

her foolish stories again...'

Her mother said: 'And how can you know Prince or Duke

will not be one such soul? You've never met the Prince, and

seen the Duke only once when you were but a child. You are

still young, Oralissa, and your head is full of romantic tales. In

time you will find love follows where need drives.'

'But Mother -'

'Still your tongue, now, Daughter; you have had your say

in full measure,' her father interjected, a stern note in his

voice warning Oralissa that further protest would be unwise.

'Promise that you will at least receive both our guests civilly,

and allow them each fair measure of company so that you

may converse together. Do not bar that songful heart of yours

from the chance that love may yet strike it from one or other

whom you have so carelessly dismissed'

Oralissa's lips pinched and she lowered her eyes meekly.

'Very well, Father.'

Then we shall speak no more of the matter until our

visitors come. Leave us now and enjoy the good day.'

Oralissa managed a rueful smile and swept out of the

room in a flurry of skirts.

The Queen patted her husband's hand reassuringly.

'Worry not. She's a good girl. She'll see sense in her own

time'

'But will it be in time enough?' the King wondered.

Chapter Two

Boots watched the two strangers curiously. They didn't quite

fit in with their surroundings.

They had set up a little but on a stretch of lawn, and

beside it they had put out a table and chairs under the shelter

of a large umbrella. That was perfectly right and proper as far

as Boots was concerned. It was what people did in the

gardens. But while one of the strangers was dressed

appropriately, the other was wearing something quite different

to anything Boots had ever seen before. This one also kept

disappearing inside the but every so often. Boots hoped there

might be children inside, but none had appeared so far.

Boots always wanted to play with children.

Still, he could sometimes play with adults, though they

often found his games harder to understand, he

remembered. Would the strangers want to play? And if they

did, should he be nice... or should he be naughty?

Peri Brown sipped her iced lemonade and leaned back in

her chair with a smile. For once the Doctor had landed them

somewhere civilised. They had been here over three hours

and they hadn't been insulted, chased or shot at once. That

had to be some sort of record, she thought.

The only slight problem was that they didn't actually know

where here was.

The Doctor came out of the TARDIS. He was frowning as

deeply as he had been when he had gone in and was

scratching his unruly head of dark blonde curls.

'Still can't get a fix on this place, eh?' Peri asked.

'No, it's very odd,' the Doctor admitted. "The navigation

unit appears to be working properly, but it won't give any

coordinates. I've set the automatic fault locator to run a

complete system check just in case.'

'We’ll sit down and relax while it does its thing. Enjoy the

ambience.

The Doctor allowed himself to be talked into a chair and

Peri meaningfully handed him a glass of lemonade. After a

few minutes his frown softened and his broad face relaxed

into a half smile.

'I suppose there are less congenial places to have a

mechanical breakdown,' he admitted.

Peri scanned their surroundings once again and agreed

with him.

Bees - or whatever locally passed for bees - buzzed

amongst the flowers. Birds - or at least birdlike things - flew

lazy arcs in the sky. Flower beds overflowing with lush

blooms enclosed a perfect green square of grass. It could

almost have been midafternoon in some classic English

stately garden, the result of a few centuries of tender

nurturing - except for the sun, of course. The sun was a softly

red-tinted disk, appearing slightly larger than Earth's sun,

burning out of an almost cloudless purple sky about halfway

to the zenith. It was either, the Doctor had said, slipping into

what Peri thought of as his 'lecture mode', a red dwarf star, in

which case the world they were on was orbiting it at a

distance of only a few million kilometres, or else it was a red

giant, which meant they were several hundred million

kilometres distant. But without being able to fix their location,

he could not find out which alternative was the correct one.

Whatever the case, the sun had not moved significantly in

the sky since they arrived, which suggested this world was

gravitationally locked to the sun. Here there would be no

sunrise or sunset, only the illusion of being suspended in

some perpetual summer afternoon just before tea was served

on the lawn. Peri half expected to see a butler appear with a

laden tray at any moment. But apart from the birds and

insects, they had seen no sign of animal life. Of course

somebody had to live here, otherwise who was keeping the

grounds so immaculately neat and tidy?

Peri shrugged. She couldn't bring herself to worry about it.

One thing the TARDIS's instruments had registered was that

the sun was putting out minimal ultraviolet radiation, so there

was no problem about sunburn. In fact it hardly felt hot at all,

just comfortably warming to her skin. After their recent

adventures, she could quite happily laze away a few days

here doing a whole lot of nothing in particular.

An impatient grunt from the other chair told her that the

Doctor was not as content with the status quo as she.

"The fault locator should have finished its run by now,' he

said, getting up and making for the TARDIS.

'Take your time,' Peri called after him, as he slipped

through the narrow door of the Police Call Box, which was

the current unlikely external appearance of their space-time

machine.

Peri decided to stretch her legs and picked up her parasol.

Earlier in the TARDIS's vast wardrobe room she had found

an ankle-length lacy summer dress with matching

accessories, which seemed more suitable for their refined

surroundings than any of her own clothes.

She strolled around the lawn, smelling the flowers and

trying to reconcile them with her own knowledge of botany.

The red sunlight gave a peculiar depth to the shadows and

subtly tinted everything, so she couldn't be sure of true

colours. Some blooms had quite reasonable arrangements of

petals, stamen and stigma that would easily have passed

muster on Earth, while others seemed to have no

recognisable parts at all. Was this a collection from several

different worlds? She was tempted to pick some to take back

to the TARDIS for closer examination, but restrained herself.

Admiring a garden uninvited was one thing, picking

specimens from it would seem too much like stealing.

She passed through an open archway in the wall to the

next section.

They had already explored the area immediately around

their landing point, and found it comprised a series of linked

high-walled gardens laid out in a regular grid, with nothing

visible beyond them except the tops of a few trees. Each

section seemed to have a slightly different theme. In this one

the walls were covered in ivy-like climbing plants, and several

stone pillars supporting cross beams had been arranged in

the centre to form a shaded arbour.

Passing through another archway she found the next

garden along was crossed by several carefully raked paths of

blue-tinted gravel, bordered by what looked like rock plants.

But what caught her eye was the decorative feature in one

corner which contained a statue. It was a male figure draped

in robes that could have been Greek. or Roman. It looked

pretty old and didn't tell her much about who owned the

gardens now, except that they were probably humanoid. Of

course, as they could be anywhere in time and space there

was no telling who they might encounter -

'Hallo, I'm called Boots,' said a cheery voice right behind

her. 'What's your name?'

Peri started, resisting the urge to yelp aloud even though

she had bitten her tongue. Slowly she turned round.

Standing on the path was what could best be described as

a golden brown teddy bear not quite as high as her shoulder,

wearing a tall hat, a multicoloured waistcoat and large red

lace-up boots. Black button eyes blinked at her even as the

corners of a stitched mouth turned up in an enquiring smile.

Peri didn't waste much time goggling in disbelief or

wondering

if she was hallucinating. Travelling with the Doctor she'd

met far stranger things that had announced themselves far

less politely. I can cope with a talking teddy bear, she told

herself, counting to ten in her head.

'Hallo, yourself,' she retorted at last. 'Do you make a habit

of creeping up on people and scaring the hell out of them?'

'Sometimes,' admitted the bear with unexpected candour,

'it depends what game we're playing. I like Hide-and-Seek,

do you?'

'I might,' Peri said guardedly. She was peering at Boots

intently, trying to decide if he was some sort of animated doll

or an actual living creature with a strange taste in clothes.

And was he breathing or not? The odd sunlight made it hard

to tell. Perhaps she'd had a touch of the sun herself. 'This

place isn't called Wonderland, by any chance?' she asked

hesitantly.

'It can be if you want,' Boots said.

No, really, I'd like to know where we are.'

'I won't answer any more questions until you tell me your

name'

'Okay. I'm Peri Brown'

'How do you do, Peri Brown,' said Boots, raising his hat

politely. 'Hi, Boots,' she replied automatically. 'Now, about this

place -' No, first we play. See if you can catch me...'

Boots turned about and sped off along the path, his stubby

legs moving in a blur.

'No, wait -' Peri called.

But Boots took no notice. Muttering angrily to herself, Peri

picked up her skirts and dashed after him. She saw Boots

vanish through an archway, and in a few seconds she raced

through after him, only to skid to a sudden halt.

A tall, square cut purple hedge of some shrub with dense

diamond-shaped leaves confronted her. It seemed to fill the

space between the walls, and ran left and right in an

unbroken line, except for an opening directly in front of her,

through which she could see more hedge.

She heard a faint: 'Catch me if you can!' from somewhere

within the maze.

'Boots, come back!' she yelled, but there was no reply.

The Doctor was still tinkering with the console when she got

back to the TARDIS. He listened with half an ear as she

recounted the details of her unlikely encounter.

'How remarkable,' he said when she finished.

'I could've thought of a few stronger words, but I guess

that'll do,' Peri said. 'Well?'

'Well what?'

'What do we do about it?'

'You are proposing that we hunt down this, uh, pseudo-

ursine creature?'

'Yes!'

'But even supposing that we find it, on your own account it

does not seem to be a very likely source of reliable

information.'

'Well it's better than nothing,' Peri said. don't see you've

got much to show for an afternoon's messing about with the

works.'

The Doctor sighed. 'There may be something in that' He

gathered up his tools and put them back in the toolbox. just

wish I knew why I can't determine our coordinates.

'Maybe because we are in Wonderland,' Peri said darkly.

'Oh I doubt that - unless...' He fixed her with twinkling

eyes. 'You're sure this creature did not resemble a white

rabbit constantly consulting a large pocket watch?'

Peri chuckled. 'No, definitely a teddy bear - or his first

cousin, anyway.'

'Then let us find this remarkable individual. Perhaps we

can bribe him with honey?'

They walked for twenty minutes through one walled garden

after

another. They explored the maze as best they could, but

there was

no sign of Boots. To her relief, the Doctor retraced their

steps to the entrance without any difficulty.

'Not a particularly complex layout,' he observed as they

emerged. The four - dimensional maze on Madross Prime,

that's a real challenge.'

They continued on.

Peri was beginning to think the whole planet was one big

garden, when they saw the tops of a line of trees rising over

the walls ahead of them. In a minute they emerged through a

gap in a tall hedge into quite a different space. To the left and

right of them stretched a wide gravel avenue, bordered by

grassy verges out of which grew the majestic trees. Their

smooth trunks rose sheer for almost half their height before

sprouting almost horizontal branches which were covered in

perfect cone-like masses of dense blue-green foliage. The

roadway appeared to run perfectly straight and level,

vanishing over the horizon before it reached any obvious

destination. Opposite them on the far side of the avenue

were the walls and hedges of what looked like more gardens.

The Doctor strode out into the middle of the gravel and

looked thoughtfully along it in both directions. It was quite

deserted. Peri joined him.

'Well, you could have quite a procession along here,' she

observed.

'It is rather grand,' the Doctor agreed. 'Perhaps it is meant

for some formal event. 'But do you notice something odd

about the road?'

Peri frowned at the long swathe of gravel and the

converging lines of trees.

'Well, it sort of dips out of sight both ways before it

disappears. Maybe we're on a hill'

'No, I think that's the natural horizon'

'But it can't be more than quarter of a mile away.'

'About that. No more than 400 metres, certainly. Which

would make this world a little over a hundred kilometres in

diameter -the size of a typical asteroid'

'But then shouldn't we only weigh a few pounds?

Everything feels about normal weight'

'There are ways of simulating higher gravity. The core of

this world may be composed of degenerate matter, covered

by a thin shell of normal rock and earth. That would also help

retain an atmosphere'

'Can that sort of arrangement happen naturally?'

'Possibly, but it's more likely that this place has been

engineered'

'All right, so where do we find the people in charge? We

haven't seen anybody, apart from my furry friend, and I don't

think he's into planetary engineering. But then who's keeping

it so neat and tidy? There are no weeds, and this grass looks

freshly mown. Where are the gardeners? There'd have to be

- hey!'

The Doctor had been looking over her shoulder with

narrowed eyes. Now he grabbed Peri' s wrist and drew her

rapidly off the road and into the shelter of the nearest garden

archway.

'There's no reason to suppose they'd be unfriendly,' the

Doctor said, 'but perhaps we'd better observe them first'

As they peered through the screen of leaves, the speck

the Doctor had seen cresting the horizon curve of the road

resolved itself into a large horse-drawn caravan of antiquated

appearance. It was decorated with wooden scrollwork, its

barrel roof had a chimney projecting through it and its boards

were painted in bright if faded colours. Two men sat on the

bench under the awning at the front of the caravan. They

were dressed in loose, multicoloured tunics, and wore turban-

like hats into which were stuck several long feathers. They

were waving their arms at each other and seemed to be

paying little attention to guiding the horse, which fortunately

maintained a steady pace indifferent to the activity of its

drivers.

As the vehicle got closer they could hear their raised

voices.

‘... No, No!' the nominal driver was saying to his

companion. 'We runneth the Hat Routine, Trampole's piece,

then the Kettle and Weasel song as finale. End with a laugh

and a tear, I say.'

'Why not end with the Hat Routine? That always leaves

them merry, that does'

'The Kettle and Weasel song is a better closer.'

'Sez you. Why not put it to the vote?'

'Cos I sez so. Have I or have I not performed before all the

crowned heads of the Nine Kingdoms -'

'Excepting Aldermar, Bolwig. We've never been here

before'

'Thou japering fool, Lurket! Who says: I performed but in

eight out of the nine, M'lord? They will say: Go away, fellow,

and send in one who can claim the full score - or else ask

why we come to them last and not first?'

The other scratched his head for a moment. ‘Because we

wanted our act to be perfected in every finest detail of word

and action before presenting it to them?'

'And have them think we are amateurs just learning our

craft? Besides, when I present myself to their majesties of

Aldermar, I will have performed before all the nine'

'Not Relgorian! Thou never did Relgorian.'

'I did so!'

'It counts not when the Arch-Duke dies before you go on!'

'He was watching in spirit! Though his body was cooling, I

felt the presence of his wraith, unwilling to ascend to heaven

'til he had partaken of his last earthly pleasure. What finer

praise could a humble player ask? I dedicated the Three-

legged Donkey rhyme to him'

'They chased you out of the city for that!'

'A misunderstanding! They have no 'preciation for fine

words and tender sentiment in Relgor...'

As the vehicle passed their place of concealment, Pen

saw painted on the side of the caravan in garish lettering:

BOLWIG'S FAMOUSE PLAYERES. A wooden porch-like

structure projected from the back of the wagon, and on it sat

a man similarly dressed to the first two, strumming vaguely

on a lute in between taking swigs from a china flagon.

Even as they watched, the man slumped lower in his seat

and slid gracelessly off onto the gravel. A cord tied round his

ankle jerked tight and pulled a jangling chain hung with small

brass bells out of the back door of the caravan. At the alarm

the cart stopped and Lurket and Bolwig got down, still

arguing over the order of their performance, walked back to

their fallen companion, who was now snoring loudly, picked

him off the road and loaded him back onto the rear porch

seat, returned to their places up front and set off again, as

though the entire process was quite normal.

Peri saw the Doctor's eyebrows raised in amusement even

as she struggled to keep from laughing aloud. For a moment

she thought he would step boldly out and start questioning

the travellers, but he stayed where he was and they watched

the caravan diminish in the distance.

Are those guys for real?' Peri wondered.

'Apparently so.

'Want to go after them and ask where we are?'

I'm doubtful if they could provide any reliable information,'

the Doctor said dryly.

'You mean they don't look like they're clued up on

planetary engineering either,' Peri interpolated. 'Their getup

and that wagon looked almost medieval. Even if they're going

to a costume party, would they need all the trimmings? They

even sounded the part. So what gives here?'

'If this world is as artificial as I suspect, then they certainly

seem out of place. But since we don't understand the social

order here we can't say for sure what is normal. The answers

may lie at one end or the other of this road. The travellers

were making for somewhere called "Aldermar". We may learn

more there.'

Peri hesitated, looking round. 'Or maybe the other way

gets us somewhere useful sooner? Can you see a signpost

saying how far this Alderman is?'

'No. Possibly one way is as good as the other -'

'Left or right or right or left? Best foot forward, but who

knows which!' a voice chanted behind them.

They spun around to see a small figure peering through

the arch in the garden wall behind them.

Ah, this is Boots I take it,' the Doctor said.

'That's him,' said Peri.

Boots raised his hat to them in mock salute and then

turned about and ran off.

'Oh no, you don't get away so easily this time,' Peri said,

dashing after him with the Doctor at her heels.

Boots skipped along in front of them in improbable

bounds, running through the gardens and then out onto the

verge of the avenue again. But Peri was determined to catch

him With a burst of speed she closed the gap between them.

Boots scurried through an archway opening onto the grass

verge only just ahead of her. Peri made a grab for the tail of

his waistcoat even as Boots sprang into the air - jumping

clean over the pit lying unexpectedly in Peri's path and into

which she plunged headfirst.

Peri's yell of surprise and alarm gave the Doctor sufficient

warning to bring himself to a teetering halt on the very lip of

the pit. On the far side of the obstacle Boots was skipping

away, calling out: 'Naughty Boots, naughty Boots...' Then he

turned into the gardens again and vanished.

His face clouded with concern, the Doctor knelt by the side

of the pit and peered anxiously down at Peri, who was lying

motionless in a swirl of lace.

'Peri, are you all right!' he called out.

Slowly Peri stirred and sat upright with a groan.

'Are you hurt?'

Peri gingerly rubbed the small of her back. 'Just my pride, I

think.' Wincing, she pulled her parasol out from under her.

The shaft was broken in half. She shrugged and tossed it

aside, then climbed to her feet and looked about her. 'What's

this hole doing here anyway?'

The pit was a rectangle about six metres long and half that

wide. Its grassy sides were sheer, but curved smoothly at the

lip and bottom. Along its centre ran a length of spike-topped

brick wall a little higher than Peri's head, stopping short of

each end of the excavation. The great disk of the motionless

sun filled it with light, making it hard to see against the level

ground from any distance.

'It looks like a ha-ha,' the Doctor said.

'I beg your pardon?'

'A device used in landscaping. A wall to keep animals

penned is hidden in a ditch so as not to spoil the view.' He

frowned. 'Except that the location makes no sense. You can

walk right round it. It doesn't close off anything. So why was it

built here...'

'Doctor, can we keep the speculation until after I get out of

this thing?'

'What? Oh, sorry.' The Doctor lay full length on the grass

and thrust out an arm. 'Now, just take hold of my hand'

But Peri could not take hold of the Doctor's hand, even

when she stretched and jumped for it. The spikes prevented

her from climbing onto the ha-ha wall itself to gain some

height, and the Doctor could not lean any further over as

there was nothing within reach for him to hold onto. It

wouldn't take much for him to slide over the treacherously

rounded lip of the pit and join Peri.

'I used to wear a long scarf that would have been

particularly useful right now,' the Doctor said, after Peri again

failed to reach his hand. He got up and brushed off his knees.

'I think I'd better go back to the TARDIS. I've got a wire

climber's ladder somewhere.'

'You could always rip up that coat of yours to make a

rope,' Peri suggested hopefully.

'I think I'll try the ladder first,' the Doctor said with a smile.

'Meanwhile I suggest you sit tight and stay quiet. We don't

understand enough about this place yet to know who we can

trust, but as long as you don't draw attention to yourself you

shouldn't come to any further harm.'

Peri sat down cross-legged in the bottom of the pit and

rested her chin on her palms. 'Go on. I won't be going

anywhere'

As the Doctor made his way back to the TARDIS at a brisk

walk, he turned over in his mind the new facts they had

acquired. He hadn't admitted it to Peri, but he was beginning

to feel concerned.

The travelling players were a puzzle, but at least they

seemed harmless. But the behaviour of 'Boots' and the

illogically located ha-ha suggested something rather more

disturbing. Boots, whatever he or it was, had obviously

intended to lure one or both of them into the ha-ha. Such a

fall could have caused serious injury or even death. But no

properly organised world, with the advanced technology that

obviously lay behind the creation of this one, would permit

such a thing. Therefore, despite the superficial elegance of

their surroundings, there was something very wrong.

Was it linked somehow with the inability of the navigation

system to give the proper space/time coordinates?

He was still musing on the problem when he entered the

garden in which they had landed. Then he stopped short.

There in the middle of the lawn were the impressions

where the table, chairs and TARDIS had rested. But now the

lawn was quite empty.

Chapter Three

'Interview with Protector Judd in his private office onboard

battle cruiser Valtor en route through hyperspace,' said

Dynes as an audio ident, while the DAVE units focused on

Judd and prepared to record.

Judd sat behind an imposing antique desk of heavy wood.

It helped conceal the fact, not obvious when he was wearing

battle armour, that although he had a fine physique, he was

slightly under average height. He was wearing a formal suit

loosened a little at the collar. On the desk before him several

neat stacks of reports were arranged about a multi-function

keypad. To one side was a monitor screen, angled so that

Dynes' cameras would get an oblique view of moving

columns of text and changing images, without revealing any

detail. On the bulkhead behind Judd lighting panels glowed

brightly while the rest of the office was rather dimly lit. Even

though there was no natural day or night onboard a

spacecraft, it implied that the hour was late.

All these little details combined to suggest to the viewer

that Judd was a conscientious administrator being

interviewed at the end of a long day. What intrigued Dynes

was that he had suggested none of these tricks himself. From

the very first, Judd had been careful to project a

conscientious and statesmanlike image at their formal

interviews.

'Protector: Dynes began, 'It's been a year since you

conquered the Esselvanian system. Since then, you've not

extended the borders of the Protectorate any further. Yet in

the previous year you took over three world systems -'

Judd interrupted. 'I do not take over worlds, Mr Dynes. I

answer the call of people oppressed by inefficient and corrupt

governments and bring them under the just rule of the

Protectorate. I am not a conqueror but a liberator.'

'Of course,' Dynes agreed smoothly. 'Well, since you

liberated Esselven, then, has something happened to delay

further expansion?'

Judd steepled his fingers and looked weary but resigned.

'It is true that Esselven has taken up more of my time than I

had anticipated, and so, temporarily, I have had to postpone

the liberation of new worlds. The people of Esselven have

only their former ruler to blame for this. In an act of great

selfishness, he crippled certain critical elements of the

administrative system. Despite the best efforts of the new

government, standards of public service and provision have

fallen below those in the rest of the Protectorate'

'In fact there have been shortages of some basic

necessities'

'Regrettably, yes.'

'And there have also been acts of rebellion against the

new government, have there not?'

Judd's lips pinched, but he answered evenly: 'There have

been isolated acts of sabotage by small groups of counter-

reformists. They are being dealt with'

'Meanwhile, you have been searching for King Hathold

and other members of his family.'

'Yes, they must be returned to Esselven to put right some

of the damage they have done to their world, and then to

stand trial for crimes they committed against their former

subjects'

'And now you believe you have located them?'

'As a consequence of extensive investigations of the flight

logs of Esselvanian starfleet craft and questioning of their

crews, we have determined the likely location of their

hideaway.'

'Some viewers might think it surprising that this process

has taken so long.'

'A lingering sense of loyalty to their former masters has

hampered the process,' Judd conceded. 'There were

attempts to conceal or destroy the evidence, but we have

finally managed to piece the facts together.'

'Is such loyalty not rather surprising, in the circumstances?

Shouldn't the people be eager to help their liberators?'

Once again Judd's lips tightened, but he answered easily:

'The mystique of royal succession can induce a false sense

of deference and duty in otherwise sensible people. Those

involved are being re-educated to rid them of their distorted

sense of values. On the new Esselven, the first duty is to the

common good'

'I see,' said Dynes. 'Perhaps, Protector, I might be allowed

to interview some of these, uh, misguided individuals?'

'Of course,' said Judd. 'After their re-education has been

completed, naturally.'

'Naturally,' Dynes agreed. He sensed Judd's patience

wearing thin, and added quickly: 'One final question,

Protector. When you do finally confront the King, do you

expect him to surrender peacefully?'

Judd spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

'I wish no further bloodshed, Mr Dynes. I will give the King

my guarantee that he and his family will come to no harm if

they return to Esselven to face trial'

'Of course, it takes the presence of a living member of the

royal family to unlock the city vault'

'Another reason for them to surrender peacefully, Mr

Dynes. They owe it to their former subjects to end this

malicious disruption to their lives. That is one of the charges

that will be laid against the former King and his advisors

when I find them,'

'You sound very certain that this expedition will be

successful, Protector.'

'Properly planned operations based upon sound

intelligence are always successful, Mr Dynes'

Dynes returned to his own small ship, the Stop Press,

clamped to a docking port on the hull of the Valtor. Once

inside he downloaded the DAVE recordings and reviewed the

interview.

He hoped Judd was right about finding Hathold because

Dynes needed something spectacular to report. Over the last

year Judd had become obsessed with Esselven and the

search for the royal family. Unfortunately this did not make for

exciting news stories.

Dynes had played all the angles he could about the

subjugation of Esselven. He'd run the placating words of new

government pronouncements against images of frightened

people with fixed grins on their faces queuing for rations.

He'd shown obvious stooges thanking Judd for his

intervention with tears in their eyes while they mouthed the

official dogma. The recent appearance of a resistance

movement had helped, and Dynes dwelt lovingly on images

of crippled spaceships and ruined transport tubes, comparing

the chaos with the strictly ordered societies of other

Protectorate worlds.

But Dynes had received feedback from his base office of

the Interstellar News Agency that the audience who had

previously been following his coverage of Judd's triumphs

was slipping away. Reporting on an occupation simply didn't

register the same appreciation factor as all-out planetary war.

The simple fact was that death and destruction fascinated

people - as long as they knew it was taking place light

centuries away and didn't threaten them.

Well he'd give the people what they wanted, whatever it

cost.

He'd worked hard over the last few years to recover his

audience recognition rating after the Gelsandor treasure story

had ended so disastrously. Finding Judd just as he started

expanding his empire had been a stroke of luck, and while it

continued to produce newsworthy material, he would stay

with it.

Dynes finished reviewing the interview with some

satisfaction. There were a few tense responses from Judd

that he could make something of, depending on how the

mission developed. He knew he'd almost pushed Judd too far

a couple of times, but the Dictator always held his temper in

check.

He had one weakness that Dynes exploited to the full.

For all Judd's power, Dynes could give him something

nobody else could: a sense of legitimacy. The chance to

justify himself and his actions before a neutral observer. Judd

wanted to go down in history as a great reformer and

liberator of the masses. He really believed, Dynes thought,

that if people only understood his philosophy properly they

would accept what he had done. For someone otherwise

highly intelligent and pragmatically ruthless it was a

demonstration of remarkable self-delusion.

Dynes didn't care either way. His only objection to Judd's

dreams of interstellar conquest was that life on the

Protectorate worlds post conquest had low news potential. It

was the unexpected and controversial that made news, not

just what the ruling party deemed acceptable. Dynes wanted

to be free to report the news wherever he found it. And if

there wasn't a story to be found, he could always make one.

Dynes had few illusions about the moral values of sentient

beings and knew never to let the facts stand in his way. Facts

were useful but they could be made to tell many stories. They

were not in themselves the truth. There was only one

certainty Dynes held to, and that was that above all things

people wanted to be entertained. They wanted to have their

consciences pricked and yet be reassured that all was well

with their own little world. They longed to be appalled and to

be thrilled, to live vicariously a life more exciting than their

own.

And he was the one who gave them what they wanted.

He shaped their thoughts and played on their emotions

and he could imagine no better job. Knowing that after the

transmission of a Dexel Dynes exclusive report over the word

net, a hundred million people would have their minds filled

with the images he had captured and repeat the words he

had spoken, was all the power he ever craved.

Glavis Judd sat in thoughtful silence after Dynes had left his

office.

He knew the reporter was cynical and cared for nothing

but his latest story, the more sensational the better, but he

had his uses. It was important that the rise of the Protectorate

should be documented for posterity. Of course there were

many official recorders, but Dynes owed Judd no allegiance,

and it was instructive to see the reactions of an outsider to

the new order. Judd was using Dynes as a mirror, albeit a

distorted one, through which to see his actions as outsiders

might do. When the next phase of expansion started, his

propaganda department would incorporate these

observations into the material they insinuated into the media

of target systems ahead of the invasion fleet. Unknowingly,

Dynes was preparing the way for the day when the wave of

change reached those far-off worlds to which he reported.

Judd allowed himself a moment's contemplation of things

to come, seeing in his mind's eye the Protectorate spread out

across the galaxy; bringing justice where there had been

misrule and certainty where there had been doubt. That had

always been his destiny...

From his early years on Zalcrossar, Glavis Judd had known

he was special, and often wondered how his quite

unremarkable parents had ever produced him. His

intelligence won him a place in an accelerated learning

stream in junior school - and a lesson in the realities of life.

A larger boy from a less able class taunted Judd for being

undersized. Judd replied scornfully in language that the other

probably didn't understand and received a beating in return.

The incident taught Judd not only to control his emotions, but

also how to apply his abilities to gain revenge. Judd secretly

exercised while studying the theory of self-defence and

unarmed combat, stoically enduring further maltreatment

from his less gifted contemporaries in the meantime. Only

when he was certain he was ready did he fight back,

choosing the moment with care to ensure they had the

largest possible audience.

He won the fight with ease, reducing his tormentor to a

state of tearful humiliation From that moment on the other

children treated Judd with awed respect. It was his first

success in manipulating the world about him and a

confirmation in his own mind of his unique nature. He never

had a problem with bullies again.

After a brilliant academic career, he eventually graduated

with the highest honours. But the society of Zalcrossar was

traditionally stratified and academic achievement by itself

was not well rewarded in a material sense. Other people

were ready to employ his talents, but they would benefit

disproportionately from his work. Judd had already developed

a contempt for the ruling classes, whom he regarded as his

intellectual inferiors. Yet, they controlled his destiny through

their patronage. He might spend years working his way up

corporate ladders of achievement, yet the highest positions

would always be denied him How was he to achieve a

position where he could exercise his abilities to the full? He

studied his prospects with care, noted the means by which

previous leaders of his world and others had risen to power.

Then, to the surprise of his contemporaries, he voluntarily

enlisted in the armed forces. It was then a time of peace and

the military was moribund and not highly regarded. But Judd

had known exactly what he was doing...

Judd came out of his brief reverie with a thoughtful

expression on his face. He communicated with the captain of

the Valtor and gave certain instructions concerning their

emergence from hyperspace and approach to their

destination.

On Esselven he had given Hathold time to surrender

which he had used instead to make his escape. Judd would

not make the same mistake twice.

Chapter Four

'Hefty, what am I to do?' Oralissa exclaimed, scuffing the

gravel pathway with the toe of her shoe.

Oralissa was in the company of her personal maid and

confidante in the Palace gardens.

Resting on the horizon the eternal sun glimmered through

the trees, casting its crimson rays across the lawns and

hedges. Rising against the purple sky, the spires and towers

of the palace shimmered like fingers of fire. Windows

sparkled where they caught and threw back the sunlight,

making it seem as though the building was burning from

within. Out of other portals cold white interior lights

challenged the ember-glow. Larger lighting rods, standing

taller than a man, were dotted about the grounds, illuminating

pathways and creating little oases of sharp shadows where

flowers shone with their true colours.

It was along these ways that Oralissa walked, oblivious to

the delicate scents that perfumed the air about her. Her fine

features were creased with worry, her bright eyes dimmed,

her normally straight and active form bowed at the shoulders.

'I would not wish to cross my parents, nor fail in my duty to

Aldermar,' Oralissa continued. 'But this is not the path to love

I had imagined. Why can life not be more like the story

books?'

Hetty's plump, red-cheeked face was a picture of concern

mingled with excitement as she anticipated the emotional

tribulations to come. There was nothing quite like sharing in

the ebb and flow of strong passions. Though only a few years

older than Oralissa, she reassured her charge in a motherly

fashion.

'There, there, My Lady. Things may yet turn for the best.

Why, who's to say you don't find one or t'other of your suitors

to your liking? Prince Benedek is said to be young and more

than passing handsome.

'A year younger that I myself,' Oralissa pointed out. 'I do

not wish to wed a child. I wish to join with somebody who has

sense in their head and has experience of life so I may

honour his wisdom.'

'Duke Stephon may prove more to your liking, then. He is

a man of some learning, I hear.'

'But much older than me.'

'A few years only, My Lady.'

'Seventeen! Almost twice my age. And a father already.

How should I manage with a family already underfoot'

'But both girl children, My Lady. They would be no threat to

your position. And mark this, though Stephon is only titled

"Duke", he rules Eridros in totality. Thou would be a queen in all but name from the moment you were wed. Whereas

Prince Benedek will someday be king of Corthane, and you

his queen if so you had chose, that day may be far distant,

for his father is said to be yet hale and hearty.'

Oralissa sighed. 'This does not ease my woe. When my

love comes I will know it in my heart as though the sun had

taken residence within me. He will show himself true by some

noble deed. I will not have to think of politics or succession. It

will just be so. A certain thing, as stone is hard and water soft;

nothing less and nothing more.'

'Even were he not of noble birth, My Lady?'

Oralissa hesitated, a frown creasing her clear brow. Then

she said slowly: 'No, Hetty, not even if it were so. Even if he

should be a humble artisan I would follow him, in rags and

barefoot should need demand. For is not love supposed blind

to rank and position? But what chance have I of meeting

such a man? My life seems to run a predestined course, and

I am faced with a choice

of two strangers, which if neither suits is in truth no choice

at all.'

Hot tears pricked at her eyes, and she drew a lacy

handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her cheeks.

For once Hetty was lost for words, and could only pat

Oralissa's hand reassuringly. 'There now, my pet. Don't fret

yourself further. Things will work out for the best'

'Yes, things will work out,' Oralissa said. 'There will be an

end, but not of my choosing. Oh, Hetty. Why do I feel there is

a doom coming to me? As though I am suspended between

breaking bough and hard earth beneath with only the thin air

for passing comfort? I am falling, and when I strike that will

be an end to all things!'

'Hush, My Lady! It is wicked to talk of such things!'

'But what if there is no choice - oww!'

Oralissa broke off with a gasp of pain as a pebble struck

her sharply on the arm.

The bushes by the path rustled and they had a momentary

glimpse of a small hunched body mottled in green and brown,

supporting a pumpkin of a head cut across by a gash of a

mouth filled with tiny pointed teeth. Mischievous yellow eyes

flashed at them and they heard a guttural laugh of delight.

Oralissa gave a gasp of fear and disgust even as Hetty

cried out: A brogle! Be off with you, foul creature! Help! Help!

A sprite in the grounds!'

Her shouts roused a pair of guards and a gardener, who

had been working nearby. As the three raced towards them,

the sprite gave an angry snarl and plunged away through the

bushes. The pursuers dove into the foliage after it. A guard

captain puffed up, looking red in the face, and cast an

anxious eye over Oralissa.

'Are you hurt, My Lady?'

'No, Captain, merely a little bruised. The creature only

meant to do mischief as is its nature.'

'It might have had your eye out throwing a stone like that,'

Hetty said, determined to make the most of the little drama.

'Well it didn't,' Oralissa said,’ so that shall be an end of the

matter.' The sounds of pursuit faded into the distance.

'The gardeners will catch it or chase it clear of the

grounds, My Lady,' the captain assured her. 'They care less

for the creatures even than they do scavengers.'

'They're all dirty, good-for-nothing beasts,' Hetty opined

with feeling. She turned to Oralissa. 'Now come inside and

get you to bed, My Lady. You’ve had enough troubles for one

day.'

As she was led away, Oralissa said: 'It is strange. I do not

feel greatly alarmed. The surprise seems to have driven a

little of the gloom from my head. At least the sprite was out of

the routine order of things.' She paused, frowning deeply. ‘I

am almost certain that such a thing has never happened to

me before, in all the many times I have walked these

grounds. Is that right, Hetty?'

'What a question, My Lady,' Hetty said. ‘But not to my

knowledge. We've glimpsed sprites before, but never has one

harmed you. And it's only to hope it never does so again.'

But Oralissa's eyes were filled with a curious excitement.

'It gives me hope. It is a reminder that the unexpected can

happen. Something different from the steps already deep

imprinted in the road ahead, in which I seem destined to

place my feet'

Hetty looked at her mistress doubtfully. 'Well at least

you're not talking about doom no more. You just get to bed,

My Lady. I'll bring you a nice glass of warm milk and honey.

That'll set you right.'

Chapter Five

Panting slightly, the Doctor paused in the shade of a silvery-

leafed tree, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and

dabbed his face. Above him the red sun simmered

motionless in the purple sky. Around him the perfect gardens

basked in the sun's perpetual warmth and light. But of what

he sought there was no sign. He had to face the facts. The

TARDIS had been deliberately removed from its landing

place and running round trying to find it without better

knowledge of his surroundings was getting him nowhere.

There was also the matter of Peri, whom he had left for far

longer than he had planned. She would be wondering what

had happened to him by now. Perhaps it would be best if he

went back for her, then they could search for the TARDIS

together and cover more ground. But he still needed a rope

to get her out of the pit.

Looking round for inspiration, his eyes alighted on a

shaggy fan of ivy-like growth spreading across a nearby wall.

Thoughtfully he went over and examined it more closely. The

main stem was gnarled and woody, but the newer, more

slender growth still showed some green. He worked his

fingers under a tendril and managed to pull a length free.

Yes, if he wove enough of these together he could make a

rough sort of rope. It would hardly be suitable for

mountaineering, but it would only have to take Peri's weight

for a few seconds. Perhaps he should have looked for

something like this near the ha-ha pit, but then he wouldn't

have discovered the TARDIS was missing. Oh well, you

couldn't turn the clock back - not too often, anyway.

He tore several more strands from the wall and draped

them over his shoulder in a bundle. Then he set off back to

Peri, his fingers working nimbly as he began stripping off the

leaves and plaiting the ivy strands together.

After a brisk quarter of an hour's walk he emerged onto

the avenue with a three metre length of coarse roped coiled

over his shoulder. As he strode up to the pit he called out:

'Sorry to be so long, Peri, but I had to -'

His words trailed away as he looked down into the pit. It

was empty. There was no sign of Peri.

Automatically the Doctor looked up and down the great

avenue and called out her name several times, but there was

no reply. He began peering through the openings in the

garden walls and hedgerows that flanked the avenue, but

then checked himself, scowling in thought.

Had Peri somehow got herself out of the pit? Unlikely. If

she had not been able to climb out with his help, then she

certainly couldn't do it alone. Therefore somebody had

helped her. But who? The only being who knew she was

down there was Boots, and why should he come back and

help Peri out, even assuming he had the means to do so?

Perhaps she had been found by other travellers on the

avenue, though it seemed unlikely anyone else would

discover the pit by chance in the hour he'd been gone.

However she had got out, if she'd been free to do so, she

would have either stayed by the pit knowing he would be

returning soon, or retraced her steps through the gardens. In

the latter case he should have met her along the way -

always assuming she hadn't got lost, of course. If she'd been

compelled to go another way, she should have left some sort

of sign or marker. That there was none suggested that her

actions were restricted to some degree.

But had she gone along the avenue or back into the

gardens?

If it had been the avenue and whoever had taken her

away had some means of powered transport, then he had

little hope of catching up on foot, even if he knew which way

to go. The gardens were hardly an easier prospect, providing

so many potential places of concealment that he could

search them for days without success. Of course he had

various devices in the TARDIS that might help him... if only

that hadn't gone missing as well.

Yet unlike Peri, the Doctor reasoned, the TARDIS was a

bulky object. Surely it couldn't have been taken very far

without leaving some traces. Perhaps it made sense to find

that first if he could. It was possible that the same agency

had been responsible for the removal of both it and Peri. If he

tracked it down he might get some clue as to her

whereabouts.

Hoping desperately that Peri was safe for the moment, the

Doctor once again set off back to the landing site.

'They're really terrific... purple pod-things,' Peri said

desperately. 'Yes, really plump and... and purple. And they

smell just about ripe...' she inhaled deeply as though

savouring the aroma of a fine wine. 'Oh, yes, really great. And

I bet they taste as good as they look... yum yum!'

She was running out of nice things to say about rows of

fruit bushes and strangely shaped and coloured vegetables.

But it seemed to be what her hosts expected of her.

There were three of them. Each was half again as tall as

she was, with heads that were amiable parodies of humanoid

features, except for glowing red photocell eyes. They had no

legs, however, and their highly polished silvery metal torsos

were mounted on broad soft rubber tyres.

They were robots, of course, but clearly rather specialised

ones. Around their bases were clipped a variety of gardening

tools, ranging from small trowels to forks, powered shears

and rotovator blades. Each tool had the same standard

socket, which could obviously be exchanged for the large but

quite human-looking rubber-covered hands (gardening

gloves?) which they currently had fitted to their arms.

A short while before, Peri had been sitting morosely at the

bottom of the ha-ha. Her thoughts were divided between

puzzling over the mental state of whoever had given such an

inappropriate name to a landscaping feature, and wondering

if the Doctor was ever going to take them someplace where

this sort of thing didn't happen. Then she became aware of

movement above. She glanced up to see the three robots

ringed about the pit looking down at her.

She'd been too surprised by their sudden appearance to

speak for a moment, but fortunately they had taken the

initiative.

'A lady!' one exclaimed.

'She has suffered a misfortune,' said the next.

'Is she broken? Will she require grafting?' added the last.

They lacked any mobile features by which to convey

expression, but there was enough intonation in their

otherwise flat mechanical voices to convey a sense of

dismay. Peri clung to that hopeful detail. At least they seemed

concerned about her welfare, unlike the mischievous Boots.

'I'm okay,' she called back at them, scrambling to her feet

and clutching her broken parasol to her. 'Please, can you find

a rope or something so I can get out of here?'

'Of course, Lady. Please let us assist you.'

And they had bent over and reached down, their metallic

arms extending telescopically. Before she realised what they

were doing, Peri felt large soft hands grasp her wrists and

upper arms, and she was raised smoothly and without

apparent effort up onto the grassy verge once again.

'Thanks,' she said, trying to keep her voice even. The

three machines seemed a lot bigger and more powerful seen

up close.

'Our pleasure, Lady. Please excuse this regrettable

misfortune. May we introduce ourselves? We are Red-3,

Red-7 and Red-10, gardeners of Red Sector East Three'

Peri noted the coloured flashes and numbers on their

chest-plates as each bobbed its head deferentially to her. At

least they seemed to have good manners. Peri began to

relax a little.

'I'm Peri Brown: she said. 'So, you keep this place going,

do you? Very nice. Neat borders.'

Was it her imagination or did the robots give a tiny shiver

that might have been interpreted as a sign of pleasure?

'We are so pleased that you approve, of our work, Lady

Peri,' said Red-3.

'We receive so few visitors from the Palace this far in the

gardens, Lady Peri: Red-7 added.

She was going to ask them to stop calling her 'Lady', but

the mention of 'the Palace' intrigued her. But before she could

enquire any further, Red-10 said:

'Would you do us the honour of inspecting our work, Lady

Peri?'

Peri hesitated, wondering if it might be a good idea to play

along with them for a while. Maybe she could find out what

was going on in this place and have something to tell the

Doctor when he got back. She gave what she hoped was a

graceful smile.

'Well, as long as we don't go too far,' she said. 'I've got

somebody to meet back here soon'

They escorted her through a brick arch into what looked

like a highballed kitchen garden. Clumps of curling red leaves

sprouted from neatly tilled rows.

'These are the pink rethlonium beds, Lady.'

'Right. Rethlonium. Great...'

Some of the plants were familiar, but most were totally

strange to her. After she had inspected her tenth vegetable

plot, Peri's enthusiasm was waning. What was even more

annoying was that the robots kept overwhelming her with

details about what they were growing and then ushering her

on before she could ask about the Palace. She began to

understand why politicians and royalty had those stiff smiles

on their faces when touring some factory or government

project.

'How about showing me some flowers?' she said in

desperation. 'Of course, Lady Peri,' said Red-3.

They led her through a gate into a huge nursery garden,

stocked with rank upon rank of flowers of every form and hue

in various stages of growth. A wave of mixed perfume struck

Peri with the nasal equivalent of an orchestral symphony. She

forgot about asking probing questions, overwhelmed by the

sheer mass of blooms. The ornamental gardens she had

seen earlier had been laid out in perfect harmony and

balance, but this place trumpeted the song of lush and

riotous growth.

For several minutes Peri walked along the aisles between

the green stems, trailed by her attentive guides. Finally she

stopped beside a row of flowers with velvet petals so violet as

almost to be black, with a blaze of deep red at the centre.

They exuded a heavy but subtle scent that did not carry the

immediate joyous delight of a rose, but a gentle

contemplative pleasure that somehow made her think of

churches.

'These are... wonderful,' she said appreciatively.

long-stemmed Altruista violets, Lady,' Red-10 said. 'We

find them more lasting than the shorter varieties'

Peri took another deep breath of the complex scent. 'I bet

they're popular at the Palace'

As soon as she spoke she knew she'd said something

wrong. The robots seemed to stiffen within their metallic

frames.

'Altruista violets are flowers of mourning, only to be

displayed inside at a time of death,' Red-3 said.

'Of course,' Peri agreed quickly, 'how stupid of me. Wow,

look at the time! Well, I guess I'd better be going. Thanks for

showing me round...'

'You would know such a thing - if you came from the

Palace,' Red-7 added. There was a definite edge of menace

in his words.

Peri tried to sidle away from them, but they moved with

deceptive speed on their large tyres, cutting off her retreat.

Gleaming metal confronted her each way she turned.

'You are a scavenger!' Red-10 said, as though accusing

Peri of the worst crime imaginable.

'No, you've got it all wrong,' Peri protested. 'Okay, I'm not

from the Palace. I'm a traveller. I've come here from outer

space. From the stars, you know.'

'Stars?' Red-3 said slowly. 'What are stars?'

The response stopped Peri short for a moment. Of course,

if the sun never set here and nobody had told them about

other worlds, they wouldn't have seen the stars. A deep

knowledge of astronomy wasn't essential for keeping gardens

tidy.

'The stars are like your sun, only further away.'

'What can be further away than the sun?' Red-7 asked.

'Everything. The rest of the universe. Look, don't you guys

ever go round to the dark side of this planet? You'd see the

stars from there.

The dark side is... uncultivated,' Red-3 said with evident

distaste. 'It is where the wild woods are.'

'What's wrong with that?' Peri said.

'It is where the scavengers live.'

Peri groaned. I said, I don't know anything about any

scavengers!' There are the gardens, the Palace and the wild

woods,' said Red-10, as though reciting some basic tenet of

faith.

Three pairs of red eyes glared at Peri accusingly.

'You are not of the gardens, nor the Palace, so you must

be a scavenger,' said Red-3.

The rubber-coated hands that had lifted her so easily from

the pit grasped her arms once again, but this time Peri could

feel the steel within them. She tried to pull free, but her

struggles were quite futile.

'You will now serve the gardens and repair the damage

your kind has done,' said Red-3, as though passing a

sentence upon her.

Luci watched the strange man crawling about the lawn

with curious interest.

Apparently Boots had been telling the truth when he said

there were strangers in the gardens. Luci was never sure

whether to believe Boots or not. He was often naughty and

she had to tell him off. Luci, of course, was never naughty

and always set a good example. She was always polite,

made sure children all got equal helpings at tea and played

games by the rules. Even when the children wanted to play

with Boots and some of his friends instead of her, Luci never

lost her temper.

Well Boots had had his chance and now it was her turn. Of

course the stranger was obviously not a child, even if he was

dressed more like a clown or jester. But the Lords came here

infrequently and it had been some time since she had anyone

to play with except Boots and the others. The gardeners

never wanted to play and she understood that the

scavengers were not very nice people. For a moment she

wondered if the stranger was a scavenger, but dismissed the

idea. Scavengers hid in the shadows and would never crawl

about in the open like that. Perhaps if she showed him how

well behaved she was, he could find some children for her to

play with?

The Doctor looked up from examining the grass for tracks

where the TARDIS had stood, to see a figure approaching

him across the lawn. It appeared to be a young humanoid girl

wearing a white summer frock. Long blonde curls spilled over

her shoulders. Silver buckled white shoes sparkled in the

sunlight. She seemed to match her surroundings perfectly.

She stopped in front of him, waiting until he got to his feet

and dusted off his knees, before saying brightly: 'Good day,

sir. I'm Luci Longlocks'

The Doctor smiled back and replied with equal formality:

'Good day to you, Luci. I'm the Doctor.'

She offered her cool, lacy-gloved hand daintily and he took

it making a little bow, which appeared to please her.

'May I enquire, Doctor, what you are doing? Have you lost

something?'

'As a matter of fact I have, Luci. It's a blue box about this

high...' he held his hand up over his head. 'I left it here earlier

and now it seems to have vanished. I don't suppose you've

seen it anywhere?'

'I'm afraid I haven't, Doctor. Do you want to play a game?'

The Doctor blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation,

looking curiously into the girl's guileless blue eyes. He said

carefully: 'I'm afraid I can't play right now, Luci. It is rather

important that I find my box, you see. Of course, if you help

me find it, then I'll be free to play. Do you have any idea who

might have taken it?'

Luci appeared to consider for a moment. 'I suppose the

gardeners might have done. It is their job to keep the gardens

neat and tidy.'

'Yes, they do it very well,' the Doctor agreed. 'And where

might I find these gardeners?'

'Oh, I'm sure I don't know, Doctor,' she said lightly, with a

suggestion in her tone that such things were beneath her.

"They are supposed to stay out of the way when the gardens

are in use. One wouldn't want them working nearby when

one was taking tea on the lawn, would one?'

'No, one wouldn't,' the Doctor said. He tried another

approach. 'Luci, are there places in the gardens that you're

not supposed to go or play?'

'Why, yes there are, Doctor. How clever of you to know

that'

The Doctor beamed modestly. 'It was nothing. Now, could

you show me where the nearest one of these places is?'

'Yes... but I'm not supposed to tell'

'I'm sure you're not supposed to tell children, but it's been

a long time since I was a child. You can tell me. If you do, we

can play a game called "Hunt the TARDIS."

Luci giggled, delicately putting her hand over her mouth.

'What a funny name for a game!'

'"TARDIS" is the name of my blue box'

'Whoever heard of calling a box by name!'

'Well, this is a very special sort of box.'

Luci's eyes sparkled. 'Is it... magic?'

'I think you could call it that,' the Doctor said, then lowered

his voice conspiratorially and added. ‘Actually, it's bigger on

the inside than the outside!'

Luci looked suitably amazed. 'Are you teasing me,

Doctor?'

'If you help me find it, you can see for yourself.'

'Very well, Doctor. There is a place not far from here that

children are not supposed to enter. This way...'

Luci led the Doctor confidently along the path and through

a brick arch into the next garden. As they went the Doctor

asked thoughtfully: 'Wei, who told you about these places

children should keep away from?'

For the first time Luci frowned. 'How very peculiar, Doctor.

I don't remember. All I know is that it's very important not to

let children play there in case they get hurt'

'And we wouldn't want that, would we?' the Doctor said.

'No, Doctor. Children must play safely and learn good

manners,' Luci said firmly.

'How very proper,' the Doctor agreed.

'This is the place,' Luci announced.

They had stopped where a dividing wall between two of

the enclosed gardens abutted the wall of another plot running

across their ends. For a moment the Doctor could see

nothing special about the location. Then his eyes narrowed.

To Luci's evident amusement, he began pacing out the widths

of the two smaller gardens and comparing it with the

dimensions of the garden that bridged the two ends. After a

minute he gave an understanding smile.

'It looks like a common wall, but it isn't,' he said half to

himself. 'Unless it's solid, which would be rather absurd,

there's a long narrow space between two walls. But where's

the way in, I wonder? Have you any idea, Luci?'

'I regret I have none, Doctor. I only know children are not

supposed to play here.

The Doctor circled the surrounding gardens, but there was

no obvious means of climbing the high walls or any vantage

point from which he could look over them. He forced himself

to think clearly. The long side walls were bordered by flower

beds and small shrubs and trees. An entrance opening onto

them was hardly practical. He turned his attention to the

cross walls that closed the two ends of the hidden area. One

formed the back of a flower bed while the other backed a

section of smooth flagstones. The Doctor inspected this

section of wall closely.

This looks like the easiest point of access, otherwise your

gardeners would leave tracks across flower beds and there's

no sign of anything like that. But if there's a door set in this

wall it's well hidden. The join must be concealed in the mortar

lines.'

'If there's a door, should it not have a handle, Doctor?' Luci

asked.

The Doctor looked at her curiously, but she appeared to be

asking the question in all innocence. 'Very true, Luci. A

handle or a key. Of course the key might be electronic, but

there's usually a manual backup. But it would be concealed

where children could not operate it accidentally. How high up

that wall can you reach, Luci?'

Luci obligingly stretched her hand up the wall, standing on

tiptoe to reach as high as she could.

'Thank you,' the Doctor said. 'Above this line of bricks,

then...' He carefully examined the brick courses on either side

of the blank section of wall. On the right-hand side he found a

brick set slightly deeper than the rest.

'Stand back!' he warned Luci, and the girl skipped aside,

face bright with expectation.

The Doctor pressed the brick, there was a slight click and

a section of the wall swung silently inwards. Inside was the

top of a long concrete ramp that angled downwards along a

high-ceilinged tunnel, illuminated by dimly glowing lighting

strips that converged in the darkness somewhere far below

them. It was easily large enough to accommodate the

TARDIS, carried on some sort of trolley or small low-loading

vehicle.

'It looks like your gardeners live underground,' the Doctor

said, peering into the depths. 'Perhaps you should wait here

while I take a look.'

'Oh no, Doctor!' Luci exclaimed. 'I want to see this magic

box of yours.

She ran lightly forward only to halt suddenly on the very

edge of the ramp. Her face showed surprise, then dismay.

'I can't... I mustn't,' she said. 'It's not allowed. I must go...

find some children. Goodbye, Doctor.'

She darted away along the path and turned through an

archway into the next garden.

'Luci, what's wrong?' the Doctor shouted, running after her.

But by the time he had rounded the corner, Luci had

vanished. Frowning, the Doctor returned to the concealed

ramp. There was no sound or sign of activity from its depths.

He started down with a resolute expression on his face.

He estimated he was at least twenty metres below the

surface when the ramp levelled out and opened onto a wide

transverse corridor with a curving roof like a subway tunnel,

illuminated by the same subdued lighting. Now he could hear

noises; several faint metallic clinks, a brief rustling and the

soft thud as though a heavy object had been set down, all

overlain with the steady background hum of unseen

machinery.

Peering round the corner of the junction he saw there was

an arched opening in the opposite wall a little way along to

his right. Some of the noises seemed to be emanating from

within, and every few seconds the fan of light it cast out into

the corridor flickered as an indistinct shadow passed across

it.

The Doctor was about to step out into the corridor when an

approaching whisper of wheels caused him to flatten himself

against the wall.

A glittering silver robot rolled busily past him on soft rubber

tyres. He watched it reach the far end of the corridor and then

turn out of sight.

'Presumably you're one of the gardeners,' the Doctor

muttered to himself, having noted the tools arrayed about the

robot's lower frame. He looked both ways to ensure the way

was now clear, then stepped quickly and silently across to the

arch on the other side and peered through.

The chamber beyond was stacked with orderly piles of

garden chairs and tables, folded awnings and sunshades,

together with assorted rigid frames and panels to make up

larger temporary structures. Two more of the silvery robots

were engaged on some task at a workbench in the far corner.

But the Doctor's eyes were drawn to the middle of the

chamber and a set of garden furniture purchased in Salisbury

in 1985, beside which rested the reassuring form of a

battered and equally anachronistic Police Public Call Box.

The Doctor judged the distances between himself and the

TARDIS and it and the robots, even as he drew out his key.

He didn't feel inclined to open up a dialogue with the

machines just at that moment. Something was badly wrong

on this strange little world and he had no idea how they might

respond. Besides, his first priority had to be finding Peri.

Once safely back inside the TARDIS he could make a

short range spatial hop to the vicinity of the ha-ha pit in the

avenue - he could estimate its bearing closely enough now

he'd been there - and then use the portable multi-range

scanner to search for Peri. Once he'd found her, they might

try talking to the gardeners, or even Boots and Luci, if they

ever appeared again.

Unfortunately the door of the TARDIS was partially facing

the working robots. If they turned around while he was

opening it he would certainly be seen. But there was no other

way.

He slipped through the archway, hugging the wall, then

ducked into the shelter of the stacks of garden supplies.

Carefully he began working his way between them towards

the TARDIS, which stood apart from the other items in the

room. To reach it he would have to leave his cover.

He got as close as he could while watching the two robots

intently. But they still seemed engrossed in their work. He

rose and tip-toed across the open floor, holding his key at the

ready. Another five seconds -

'Scavenger!'

The accusing metallic voice had come from behind him.

The Doctor spun round to see a third robot had just

entered the chamber. A pair of shears was attached to its

right arm in place of the rubber hand. Alerted by its cry, the

two other robots stopped their work and spun round to face

the intruder. Their wheels squealed on the floor as their

motors buzzed, jerking them into angry motion.

The Doctor took a split second to calculate distances and

speeds and realised there was no time to get inside the

TARDIS before the three inexplicably angry machines

reached him.

He put his shoulder to a stack of garden chairs and

toppled them in the path of the third robot. As it crashed into

them, rocking wildly, the Doctor leapt to one side. Clattering

powered shears sliced past his head and tore into a pile of

wooden trellis panels, sending up a shower of splinters.

Then he was past the machine and diving through the

archway and back out into the main corridor. Recovering the

TARDIS would have to wait. Now his only concern was

escape.

He turned onto the ramp only to skid to a halt. A robot was

coming down the ramp right at him, eyes blazing.

'Scavenger!' it brayed.

'Sorry - must run!' the Doctor called, turning about and

darting back the way he had come. His original pursuers had

emerged from the storage room, so he had no choice but to

turn left and sprint away along the corridor.

Rounding the first junction he turned into a large chamber

filled with the hulking angular forms of what looked like earth-

moving machines, drills and tunnel borers. For a moment he

crouched down in the shadows between them, wondering if

he could conceal himself until the pursuit passed him by.

Then he heard robots entering the chamber. They were not

allowing him time to hide!

He ran out of the far end of the chamber and along

another corridor, passing rooms filled with machines that

looked as though they might be part of an automated

assembly line and others that seemed to be maintenance

shops for the gardening robots. Nowhere did he see any sign

of living beings. Who controlled the robots, or were they

completely autonomous, he wondered as he ran? How far did

this complex extend, and was it the only one on the planet or

were there other centres? But above all, was there another

way out?

The pursuit was intensifying. Behind him he heard the

growing whirr of motors, the squeal of rubber tyres and the

cry of: 'Scavenger!'

As he passed a side passage he felt a breeze on his face,

carrying with it the smell of earth and mulch. Was this a way

up to the surface?

The Doctor turned into the passage and sprinted forward,

straining his eyes for the sight of daylight. Instead he found

himself in a chamber ringed by pipework and pump-like

devices, centred around a row of large metal hoppers

standing taller than his head. Even as he took this in, he

heard the squeal of tyres from the far end of the passage he

had just passed along. He looked around desperately, but

there was no other way out of the room! He turned back to

the hoppers. These robots didn't seem to be equipped for

climbing...

He sprang upward, hooked his fingers over the rim of the

hopper, heaved himself over with a grunt, and dropped inside

just as a gardener entered the chamber.

He found himself lying on a pile of leaves, finely shredded

stalks and grass cuttings; organic waste from the gardens

presumably destined for composting.

Straining his ears, he heard the robot moving about the

room, obviously checking all possible hiding places. As long

as it didn't consider the possibility that the object of its search

was more agile than its own kind.

Then came a click and rattle of metal turning against metal

which reverberated through the hopper. From somewhere

below the Doctor came a rushing noise that grew steadily

louder...

The pile of compost suddenly dipped in the middle as the

contents of the hopper began to sink downward. The Doctor

made a desperate grab for the rim of the hopper but it was

already out of reach and the sloping sides offered no other

handhold. The loose material rolled inward, closing over his

waist as he was sucked downward. The compost rose over

his head and he clamped his lips shut and screwed up his

eyes. He felt a momentary increase in pressure as though he

was passing through a constricted space, then he was falling

though empty air.

He landed in a container already half-full of compost. The

loose pile broke his fall but sent him tumbling helplessly

sideways. His head cracked violently against the edge of the

container. The world seemed to explode in a shower of purple

sparks, then darkness enfolded him.

The flow through the chutes ceased. Valves closed again with

a clang. There was a low hum of power. The underground

train with its truck-loads of organic waste and one

unconscious passenger pulled smoothly away. In a few

seconds it had vanished into a tunnel.

Chapter Six

Peri rubbed a grimy hand across her brow, wiping away the

sweat. She was no longer the elegantly dressed figure she

had been when sipping lemonade on the lawn only a few

hours earlier. Her once pristine summer frock was dirty and

seriously abbreviated since she had been forced to pull off

the sleeves and tear the skirt across at the knees. But it was

either that or risk fainting in the heat.

The artificial lights of the subterranean greenhouse were

brilliant and the air was hot and humid. Peri appreciated such

conditions were good for the plants and they didn't trouble the

robot gardeners, under whose watchful lenses they laboured,

but it wasn't easy for their human workers.

At least they looked human to Peri's eyes. There were

eight or ten of them, and Peri thought she had never seen

such a ragged and miserable group of people. They were of

both sexes, two or three in their late teens, she guessed, the

rest adults. A couple of older men were thin, lined and grey-

haired, looking worn down by life more than their years. All

were dressed in a strange mixture of animal skins and pieces

of plastic sheeting, roughly sewn together, and criss-crossed

with straps and belts of hide or wire and what might have

been nylon cord.

They were, she presumed, the 'scavengers' that the

gardeners seemed to disapprove of so vehemently. Not that

any of them had yet spoken to her to confirm their identity.

She had received several suspicious glances and was

obviously the subject of some muttered exchanges, but none

of them had responded to her attempts to start conversations

when they had passed by her in the course of their work.

Whether this was from fear of her or their captors she didn't

know.

Taking a deep breath, Peri went back to her task of

separating seedlings from a clump in a tray and planting each

one in a small individual pot. Once a larger tray of potted

seedlings was ready, it was placed on a table under the lights

and mist watering pipes for forcing. It was repetitious, mind-

numbing work, the irony of which was not lost on her. She'd

been a botany student back on Earth before she met the

Doctor. But if she was going to have to do much more of this

she would rapidly go off the whole phylum.

She hastily quashed the idea that she might end up like

the wretches who worked about her. The Doctor would find

her or she would escape. Rotting away down here was not

an option she was even going to contemplate. You are going

to get away from here the first chance you get, Peri Brown,

she told herself firmly. Keep your eyes open and your wits

about you.

She finished another tray and carried it with shuffling steps

over to a clear area of the bench. She had to be careful how

she walked. Like the others, she was hobbled by a length of

plastic strapping secured about her ankles. It allowed her to

take short steps, but not to run.

Peri recognised the material as the sort of tie used to

secure a young shrub or sapling to a supporting post. It was

usually fitted with an adjustable buckle so the loop could be

let out as the plant grew and then easily removed when it

was strong enough to support itself. It made a strange sort of

sense that the gardeners would use something like this to

control their prisoners, but it was not exactly chain-gang

security and seemed curiously amateurish. Surely they could

have made something better. Perhaps they were not that

adaptable; prisoners of their programming, which in her

opinion had obviously been seriously screwed up somewhere

along the line. Not that she was complaining. However tough

it was, plastic could be cut a lot more easily than metal. Just

let her get hold of a knife...

Then she saw the scavenger boy again, pushing a trolley-

load of fresh planting trays into the greenhouse.

This particular boy, or perhaps she should say young man

as she guessed he might be fifteen or sixteen, was different

from the rest. He had an unruly mass of dark curls, the

shadow of a moustache forming on his upper lip and a sharp

clear eye. He held himself straight and performed the tasks

the robots set him with calculated insolence. There was a

proud defiant set to his features. Of all the scavengers, he at

least had met her gaze squarely, if with a curious frown.

There's somebody who's not going to knuckle-under quietly,

Pert thought. Somebody worth getting to know better,

perhaps?

Turning these thoughts over in her mind, she toiled on.

The light underground was as unchanging as on the

surface. Did people here simply sleep when they were tired,

she wondered? She began repeatedly checking her watch,

worried that she was losing track of time. Then she worried

about becoming obsessive when she found only a few

minutes had passed and gave it up. Her thoughts drifted.

What did she mean by people, anyway? So far she'd seen

three antiquated types in a wagon, robots, scavengers and

Boots - whatever he/it was. Was that an average cross

section of the local community? But who made the place in

the beginning and did anybody actually run things now? The

gardeners had mentioned a Palace. If anybody was going to

rule, that's where they would be. If... no, when she got out of

here, it would go right to the top of her Places-To-Visit-In-A-

Mean-Mood list.

She was roused from her brooding thoughts by a gardener

ordering the workers to stop what they were doing.

In a shuffling file they were herded along a passage into

what was obviously a combination mess room and sleeping

hall, with rough straw pallets arrayed about the walls and a

metal trough in the centre of the room. Half the trough was

filled with water, which the workers eagerly fell upon, gulping

it down from their cupped hands. Peri reluctantly copied

them, feeling too thirsty to care about niceties. She splashed

some more water over her face, grateful for the feel of

something cool after the sweatbox conditions of the

greenhouse.

A gardener entered carrying a large plastic mesh bin filled

with multicoloured fruits and vegetables, which it tipped into

the other half of the trough. As soon as it had withdrawn and

the barred door of the chamber had clanged shut, the

scavengers fell upon the food, snatching up all they could

carry and shambling off to their crude beds to wolf it down.

Almost too late, Peri realised that nobody cared about

equal portions and had to elbow her way in to grab the last of

the food, hating herself as she did so for being a part of such

a degrading process. She came away with a couple of pale

vegetables like large knobbly potatoes and an orange ball

with a coarse ribbed rind.

Peri felt many eyes upon her and saw that, in between

tearing at their food, the others were staring at her with frank

suspicion. Even in their present sorry state, her clothes were

clearly different from theirs and she suddenly felt very much

the outsider. She also experienced the first pangs of alarm.

Having seen them behaving little better than animals, Peri

could almost understand the gardeners' contempt. And now

they were locked in this room together without guards. But

had they been like this before the gardeners had captured

them? What was going on here?

She looked round and saw the proud dark-haired boy

sitting apart from the rest, looking contemptuous of his

fellows' evident resignation to their situation as he bit into his

food. Taking a deep breath, Peri stepped over to him.

'Hallo, my name's Peri. What's yours?'

He eyed her up and down rather too closely for her liking,

but she stood firm. After a long pause he said: 'Where you

from? Melek's House? Stoneford? You didn't come to last

gathering.'

'I don't know about any gathering, or where those places

are. I'm from somewhere called Earth.'

He frowned. Underneath the layered dirt he had quite a

nice face, she thought. 'Only three home-hearths in wild

woods,' he said. 'Thorn Tree, Melek's House, Stoneford. I be

Kel of Thorn Tree. You be from Melek's or the Ford. Nobody

lives on own in woods.

'Well, Kel, it's a little complicated. Maybe I can explain.

Can I sit down?'

He grunted, which Peri took to be an assent, and she

settled herself beside him, trying to ignore the noticeable

odour emanating from his ragged clothes. Though after a few

days here, she probably wouldn't smell much better.

'These wild woods of yours, they're on the dark side of this

planet, right?' Peri began.

Kel frowned again. 'Sun never shines on wild woods.'

'So you must be able to see the stars from there'

'What are stars?'

Peri sighed. She'd hoped these people would understand

more than the gardeners, but perhaps she'd been wrong.

'Stars are little specks of light that shine in the sky when

there's no sun. You must have seen them'

Kel shook his head. 'Sky over wild woods is clouds. Rains

often. Makes streams and lakes. Water runs to sun and

gardens where there is little rain'

It made sense, Peri thought. Rain condensed out of moist

air over the cooler, dark side of the world and flowed back to

the daylight side to be evaporated again. Unfortunately it

didn't help her explanation.

'Don't you ever get clear weather, see any gaps in the

clouds where it's really dark?' she asked.

'Dark like in cave?' Kel said. 'Never that dark. Always

some light in sky, always enough for hunt.'

Obviously the twilight zone stretched far enough round this

small world so that it never got properly dark. She was

wasting her time trying to give astronomy lessons.

'Okay,' she said. This place Earth that I come from, which

you've obviously never heard of, goes round a star that

you've never seen. Take it or leave it.'

'So, you not live in wild woods?'

'No'

'You live in the gardens somewhere away from

gardeners?'

'No! Somewhere else far away. Beyond your sun. I've just

been trying to explain... Oh, never mind!'

Kel looked at her curiously as Peri angrily bit into one of

the potato-like vegetables she had snatched from the feeding

trough. It tasted a bit like very mild cheese. After a minute

she asked: 'What's the name of this world. Everything round

us, the ground under our feet, you know.'

'This Esselven,' Kel said, as though stating the very

obvious. 'This whole world, or just this part of it?'

Kel shrugged. 'Everything is Esselven,' he repeated.

Peri thoughtfully chewed some more cheese potato for a

moment, then said: 'Tell me about the Palace'

Kel looked at her oddly. 'The gardeners say "pal-ace"

when they mean the Big House'

'Okay, “Big House". Who lives there?' She saw his look of

disbelief at her question and added: 'Really, I don't know.

Please tell me' "The Lords of Esselven.'

'Big shots, eh? What are they like?'

'Like men. But they have fine clothes and horses. They

ride the straight ways, walk in gardens'

'Have you ever talked to any of them?'

'No. Only seen from far away.'

'I don't suppose you've been inside the Palace?'

'No. It is guarded by warriors and magic. Death for

scavenger people to go there.'

'I see. Anywhere else around here I should know about?'

Kel scratched himself thoughtfully. 'There is land of the

Pal-ace of Winter.'

'You mean there are two Palaces?'

'Yes. Gardens belong to the Pal-ace of Summer. Beyond

the great fields is the land of the Palace of Winter. Hunters

say it is where water turns hard and the ground is white'

'And how do your people, the scavengers, fit into all this?'

she asked. 'I mean, where did you come from?'

Kel scowled. 'The elders say we sent away from the

Palace as punishment for angering the God. Long ago,

elder's fathers-fathers went to Palace to beg forgiving. Palace

warriors drive them away. Scavengers not go there now for

long time'

But where did you come from before then?'

Again she got the look of disbelief that she should ask

such a question. 'The Sun God-ship brought us to Esselven,

long ago. We lived with Palace Lords then. Palace lords

serve the Sun God. They put up great towers to please him

Then was the dividing. The elders say that is why we live in

dark woods. We angered the Sun God and the Palace Lords

send us away from his eye into dark lands. That is why we

not live with Lords. Elders make sacrifices, call to sun but

nothing changes'

At last Peri felt she was getting to know something of the

history of this place, even if none of it made much sense at

the moment. She persevered. 'How long ago did all this

happen?'

'Long ago.'

'But how long?'

'A long time. Before the flood washed away the old

Stoneford, before Hrothgeld killed the great wolf. A long time.'

Suddenly Peri understood. If the sun never moved here

and there were no seasons, then there would be no years.

Without artificial timekeeping, they would soon lose track of

time. Not just the time of day, if you could call it that, but

entire years. The only chronology left would be the order of

notable events, which would soon become mingled with folk

tales. She'd better not put too much reliance on the accuracy

of what Kel told her, but for the moment it was all she had to

go on.

'Sounds like you've had a rough deal,' Peri sympathised.

'Even the gardeners are down on you.' She frowned. ‘What

do you think the gardeners are, anyway?

Kel gave her an odd look. 'Gardeners are Lord's servants,

like warriors who guard Palace.'

'But they're not human are they. You can see that. Have

you ever heard the word "robot"?'

Kel shook his head. 'Gardeners are mek-anycals. That is

Lord's name for them. They grow food for Palace. We take

from the gardens, they chase us. Catch us if they can' His

face darkened. 'Catch Kel, but not for long!'

Peri lowered her voice slightly. 'You want to get away too,

right? Well so do I. Maybe we can work together to get out of

here'

He looked her up and down again in his uncomfortably

direct manner. 'Maybe you too old woman for scavenger run-

hiding. Should be mated at home-hearth having children'

Peri managed to stifle her instinctive response to this

outrageous observation, and instead said icily: 'Just give me

a chance and I'll show you some run-hiding. I've been chased

by worse things than the gardeners, you know' She looked

down at the strapping binding her ankles. 'But first, we've got

to get these things off. We need a knife, or maybe secateurs

or pruning shears. The gardeners carry those sort of tools...'

'I had knife,' Kel said. 'Good metal knife, not stone.

Scavenged

from gardeners. Sharpened and made handle myself. But

was taken away when they caught me.'

'I don't suppose you know where they put it?'

Kel shrugged.

'Well we'd hardly have a chance to go wandering about

after it, anyway. We've got to use something close at hand.

But it must be the right time. Do we ever get let outside?'

'Yes. Other work to do in gardens. Putting bigger plants in

ground, scraping grass -'

'I get the picture. I doubt they'll let us have any really sharp

tools to work with, but at least out in the open we'll be in

position to make a run for it if we get the chance' She looked

round at the other scavengers. They'd finished their food and

were huddling down to sleep. 'Perhaps we can help them

escape as well'

'They are no longer true scavengers,' Kel said

contemptuously. 'Gardeners have kept them too long. They

will not run. Have lost the fire inside' He thumped his chest.

'Kel still has the fire!'

Peri considered their companions again and had to admit

Kel was probably right. It would just be her and Kel, then.

She turned back to him and jerked a thumb at herself. 'Well

I've got that fire inside me as well. Where I come from a

burning torch is a symbol of liberty and we don't take kindly to

being kept as slaves. So we start planning how to get out of

here, right?'

He considered her determined expression for a moment,

then said: 'You talk much - but maybe you have fire. Time to

sleep now.'

And he turned over and curled up on his straw mattress.

Peri shrugged, shifted herself over to the mattress next to

Kel's, which nobody seemed to have claimed, and made

herself as comfortable as possible.

Tomorrow she was getting out of here, she told herself.

Today hadn't exactly ended on a high, but tomorrow was

going to be a better day. She was going to get away from the

gardeners somehow... exact details still to be resolved, then

find the Doctor... she wasn't sure exactly how...

She drifted into an exhausted sleep, niggled by the

thought that on Esselven, tomorrow never really came.

Chapter Seven

Benedek and his travelling companions had halted at the

crossroads, with the sun throwing their lengthening shadows

before them, when he saw the riders approaching from the

east. Though they were too far off for any details to be seen,

Benedek guessed who they were.

Briefly he considered riding on at once and making good

his advantage, but the horses were tired and in any case, it

might appear undignified. So he contented himself with

making a show of nonchalant ease. His companions adopted

the same manner. The party of five horsemen drew up as

they reached Benedek's party. Their leader was a lean man

with a saturnine face and dark, intelligent eyes. His gaze

flickered appraisingly over Benedek's company before he

made a slight bow from his saddle.

'Greetings, Prince Benedek. We have met before upon my

last visit to Corthane, though you may not recall the time,

being then a mere child.'

There was a subtle emphasis on the last word that

suggested Benedek, in his opinion, was still not quite done

with childhood. Benedek made a stiff and minimal bow in

return.

'Greetings to you, Lord Duke. Yes, I recall your visit, even

though I was a stripling. But as you can see, I am full grown

now.'

Duke Stephon smiled, 'You may find that the getting of a

year's height and a year's wisdom are not one and the same.

Achieving man's full estate may yet lie a little way ahead of

you.'

Benedek's companions stirred at the Duke's words, but

Benedek motioned for them to be silent and beamed back at

the Duke.

'I thank you, lord Duke, for those cautionary words.

Doubtless such musings come often to one as the count of

years multiplies and wistful thought must take increasing

precedence over bodily activity.' And as he spoke his eyes

flickered over the grey touching the Duke's temples and down

the line of his beard.

Now it was the turn of the Duke's men to bridle, but they

were silenced at a glance from their master, who nodded to

Benedek in acknowledgement of his swift riposte. He looked

back down the avenue from the south along which Benedek

had ridden.

'You travel light, Prince,' he observed. 'Do you not feel the

need to present yourself at the Palace of Aldermar in better

than clothes stained by travel?'

'I shall present myself properly accoutred,' Benedek

assured him My baggage train follows on but half a day

behind. I did not wish to be constrained to the speed of pack

wagons for fear of arriving late.' He looked along the eastern

road. 'You also seem without provisions fitting to your station!

'They also follow along at their own pace. like yourself, I

wished not to be late. A gentleman is always punctual -

especially when being presented to a lady of renown'

'Now we have the truth!' Benedek exclaimed. 'You were

sent a likeness of her as well as I, and wonder if the artist did

her justice.'

Stephon held his poise. 'It is well known that Princess

Oralissa is fair to look upon. I would not be a man, despite

those years you believe lie heavy on my shoulders, good

Prince, if I did not anticipate agreeably meeting one such as

she. Do you deny you are not driven by a similar curiosity?'

'I do not deny it. I happily admit it before these witnesses. I

wish to make a match, and if Oralissa is half as fair and

gentle of nature as reports suggest, then she will do very well

for me'

'You are very sure of success, young Prince'

Benedek's eyes narrowed. 'What I seek I have, as the

skins of

many mighty beasts that adorn the walls of our citadel

upon the icefields will testify!

'You will find the courting of a lady requires different skills

than those of the hunt. You may hang your walls with a

thousand rich pelts, Prince, and still not win this prize.'

'We shall see, Lord Duke. Now, do we cross into Aldermar

together, or start a race for the palace gates from this spot?'

'I shall ride on at a seemly pace if you will do the same.'

Cautiously the two men urged their mounts forward, their

followers falling in behind them, each casting suspicious

glances at their counterparts and edging uneasily about the

road. After a minute the Duke said:

'Would you care to ride a little before me, Prince, so that

the dust of my passage does not clog your nostrils and grit

your eyes?'

'A kind offer, Lord Duke. But then I will be constantly

twisting my neck about to see that you do not suffer likewise.'

'Why incommode yourself so? Are you so concerned for

my wellbeing?'

'Perhaps. Leastwise, I suddenly find myself overcome with

a desire not to let you out of my sight.'

The Duke smiled. 'Then let us ride side by side so we may

continue this most companionable discourse. The road is, I

think, wide enough to pass us both'

'The road perhaps; the Prince said, 'but at its end there

can be no sharing.'

'Of that at least, we can agree'

The pace of their ride north slowed and the baggage trains of

both parties caught up with their respective masters. So it

was, when they finally arrived at the gatehouse of the Palace

of Aldermar, Prince and Duke were each dressed in their

finest clothes and accompanied by companion-guards whose

leather was oiled and metalwork shone.

A company of Aldermarian guards were waiting to escort

them through the parks and gardens to the Palace itself.

Having expected the guests to arrive separately, the guard

commander had to adjust the planned disposition of his men

to accommodate a Prince and Duke who seemed determined

to ride to the Palace shoulder to shoulder.

As the oddly mingled party dismounted in the Palace

courtyard, the royal family came out onto the broad flight of

steps before the main doors to greet their distinguished

guests. The Duke and the Prince, still shoulder to shoulder,

bowed to the King and Queen, and handed over small gifts of

welcome, as was the custom in Aldermar.

And then they were presented to Princess Oralissa, who

had been standing silently a little behind her parents, her

eyes downcast. At the sight of her the flow of conventional

words of greeting and regard faltered as they realised that

the images they had seen had not done justice to her beauty.

Oralissa was small and slender, with a heart-shaped face,

skin the colour of dark honey, white-blonde hair constrained

in a single thick plait and tawny eyes of gem-like clarity.

Demurely she held out her hand and each man bent low over

it.

She was so beautiful yet so sad, it seemed, that Benedek

was moved to lift her spirits. Fighting to keep a nervous

stammer from his words, he said:

I had thought that I had known beauty when the sun lit the

ice valleys of Corthane and turned them into jewelled halls of

light... all bedecked in crystal splendour. But now I have met

you, Princess... I shall not walk those valleys again, knowing

them but pale imitations of true loveliness.'

Oralissa's eyes widened in surprise at the boldness of the

young man's compliment. She smiled brightly back at him,

her joyful nature parting the veil of her despondency for the

first time that day.

Recovering his own composure and realising Benedek

had drawn the first show of approval from the. Princess, the

Duke deftly interposed himself between the two.

'Prince Benedek compares thee to snow and ice,

Princess. But I see only warmth and life in thy countenance.

The great woods of Eridros hold many secret glades where

the most fair flowers grow, prized throughout the realm for

their many hues and scents so rich and yet so subtle as to

dazzle the senses. But here in Aldermar the most perfect

bloom in Esselven has grown and blossomed, and it is my

privilege to gaze upon her.'

Oralissa blinked at the unexpected words falling from the

lips of the older man, then favoured Stephon also with her

warmest smile.

Standing to one side, the King and Queen exchanged

glances of relief. Oralissa had clearly made a deep

impression on their guests, and they in turn had raised her

spirits.

The eyes of Benedek and Stephon also met, but there was

no meeting of minds behind the gesture. Their earlier hostility

had merely been a reflection of minor disagreements their

countries had shared in the past. Now their rivalry had taken

on a personal dimension.

The object of their curious interest had been revealed as a

living being of exceptional quality. In a few moments,

innocent of the power she wielded, she had kindled the fires

of desire within them both. But only one could claim her.

Each signalled the other with that single glance that no

quarter would be given in the battle to win Oralissa's hand.

Chapter Eight

The emergency alarm sounded throughout the length of the

Valtor, followed by the Captain's voice.

'Final warning! We are about to re-enter normal space at

minimum proximity to planetary gravity well. Secure all

systems and stand by for disruption effects. In ten, nine,

eight...'

Strapped into the control chair of the Stop Press, Dynes

braced himself for an unpleasant few moments. The task

force was going to emerge from hyperspace practically in

orbit about their objective. Regular passenger liners or cargo

carriers would never contemplate such a manoeuvre. Only

front line military craft with sufficient energy reserves to

control the collapse of the hyperfield would take the risk. The

slightest error could tear the ship apart. But Dynes felt no

serious concern. He knew Judd would have calculated all the

parameters. He was not the suicidal type.

'...three, two, one... drive off!'

Dynes felt a shudder run through the Valtor, transmitted to

the Stop Press through the docking clamps. A spasm of

nausea churned his stomach, causing him to swallow hard.

Warning lights flickered briefly across his control panel, then

settled down to normal. They'd made it.

The distorted vista of hyperspace vanished from his

external monitors and he saw the hard contours of the other

ships in the task force sparkling under the harsh light of a

white dwarf star whose disk filled most of one view screen.

Even as Dynes took in the scene the other ships broke

formation and sped away from the Valtor, each taking up its

pre-arranged position in tight orbit around... what?

It filled space below them, yet at the same time it was

almost invisible to casual observation. It was as though a

mirror-glass globe hung there, showing only a dazzling spot

of light where the sunlight reflected from it and a few lesser

pinpoints of bright stars. Otherwise it was as black as space

itself. It was the largest broad spectrum forcefield Dynes had

ever seen; a 130 kilometre sphere enclosing a worldlet with a

collapsed matter core, capable of sustaining a narrow

biosphere. Even as he watched, the reflections of sun and

stars slid across the mirror surface. Real sun and reflection

met, then the incandescent globe was cut across by a hard-

edged arc of darkness. In seconds the solar disk had

vanished as they plunged into the planetoid's shadow.

The Valtor fell on along its sharply curving orbit as its

artificial senses probed the world below. Stars rolled behind

the black disk hanging in space with dizzying speed, and

Dynes felt an unexpected spasm of motion sickness. The

mass of a minor planet compressed into the volume of an

asteroid generated a steep gravity well that rapidly

diminished in intensity with altitude. Even so they were still

orbiting the tiny world at several kilometres a second.

Dynes turned to face the DAVE unit hovering beside him

and signalled it to start recording.

'I'm looking down on a freak of astrodynamics augmented

by planetary engineering technology, orbiting close to a white

dwarf star where no habitable world should be,' he began.

"This is the secret that has taken Judd a year to wring from

the survivors of the Esselvanian space fleet. Locating it has

involved not only painstaking study of decades of cargo

manifests, space logs and flight plans, but forcing many

unwilling tongues to loosen. It's meant exploring and

eliminating numerous false trails until one set of unexplained

coordinates remained.

'This is the retreat of the rulers of Esselven. The private

world where they took their holidays away from the public

gaze - and now perhaps their refuge from an implacable

enemy. There's no absolute certainty that the royal family and

their retainers came here on their last desperate flight from

Esselven, or that they haven't moved on since, but where

else would they go? Judd has contacts on a hundred worlds.

If Hathold and his family attempted to claim asylum anywhere

in this sector, he would have known about it...'

The dazzling white limb of the sun reappeared on the

opposite side of the dark globe and it rose as rapidly as it had

set barely half a minute earlier. They were making a complete

orbit about the planetoid in under two minutes.

"The probability is that if they're anywhere, they're here:

Dynes continued. 'This world was obviously prepared as a

place of concealment, a sanctuary, and now it has failed its

builders. Judd's ships are already encircling it - there will be

no dramatic last minute escape this time. The bolt-hole has

become a prison. The last act of the conquest of Esselven

has begun. Any moment now...'

Dynes broke off his commentary as he noticed activity in

the Valtor's control room, relayed from the DAVE he'd left

there to give him an overview of the situation. Two more

DAVEs were assigned to Judd's own landing craft, while the

rest were with Dynes inside the Stop Press ready to cover

the landing. Now he saw that the reports of the deployment

were coming in and being relayed to Judd.

'Even as I speak, Protector Judd is in his landing craft

preparing to lead the assault team down to the surface...'

Judd shifted in his seat, feeling his powered armour move

with

him, sensing and amplifying his movements. It felt good to

be back

in battle dress again. The last time he'd worn it had been

for the

assault on Esselven, and it was about time that he

reminded the men that he was a warrior as well as an

administrator.

Though facing the prospect of imminent danger and

violence and prepared to use all the tools of warfare at his

disposal, Judd despised people who were uncontrollably

violent or who sought out danger for its own sake like a drug.

It was simply a means to an end. In fact a measure of applied

violence had enabled him to mark out his future path during

basic military training...

It was the day they started the course in unarmed combat.

Sergeant Vengle, their instructor, taunted the trainees that

this was their chance to 'take a swing' at a superior officer

without fear of the consequences. Vengle would take on any

of them brave enough to face him before training proper

started. Judd recognised the crude ploy to assert his

dominance over the trainees. He watched Vengle easily beat

three recruits, and then stepped up himself.

It was a hard fight, for Vengle was no physical weakling,

but Judd was driven by more than mere muscle. Eventually,

bloody and half-senseless, he landed the winning punch. It

guaranteed him the respect and admiration of his fellows,

and also ensured none would dare cross his path.

Judd contrived to meet Vengle privately later, before the

latter had a chance to formulate some plan of revenge, and

stated his case bluntly. Vengle had already witnessed the fact

that Judd was more than a common recruit. He could either

stand in the way of his ambitions or he could help him along

and reap the rewards later. Vengle decided to be sensible.

With his support, Judd passed through basic training top of

his muster.

Once assigned to regular duty with an aerospace assault

unit, Judd gained rapid promotion, applying his considerable

intelligence to rationalizing an uninspired military

organisation. He had little opposition. Most personnel were

unambitious time servers who did not obstruct him. A few

from the traditional military classes, serving because it was

expected of them, might resent his rise through the ranks Old

families, however, as he rapidly discovered, all had their

secrets. These he diligently uncovered through unofficial use

of military resources and then applied them to influence their

soldier sons to his advantage. Genuinely able personnel he

gathered under his own command, waiting for the opportunity

to use their ability to his advantage.

By this time Judd's name was being mentioned within the

higher ranks of command, but he knew that for his purposes

he needed to become a public figure. He watched for the

opportunity he knew would come...

The captain of the Valtor was speaking to him over the

comlink.

'Englobement is complete, Protector. No ship can leave

the planetoid without being intercepted within a matter of

seconds...' he hesitated, then continued: 'The intelligence

team reports that the planetary shield is denser than anything

the Esselvanians used against us before. Apart from some

radiation loss in the infra red from the night side, which must

be necessary to maintain a habitable surface temperature, it

registers as completely stable and inert. It's reflecting our

scanning beams with almost no attenuation. There must be

some means of opening a discontinuity to let ships pass

through without exposing the surface to the full solar

spectrum, but at this moment we cannot locate it or even

identify gross surface details.'

'I can manage without a map if I have to, Captain,' Judd

replied tersely. 'But if the shield is that complete, I won't even

be able to get a landing craft down. Open a hole in it!'

'But... where shall we aim, sir?'

'Anywhere, Captain, since one point seems as good as

another. Use every missile and beam in the fleet if you have

to, but crack that shield now!'

'At once, Protector! All ships! Target sunside zero

meridian, forty-five degrees North by standard reference ... '

The ships of the task force shifted to bring their weapons to

bear on the perfect mirrored-globe beneath them. Drive

plates glowed as the vessels checked their hectic whirl about

the tiny world. Missile ports opened while the muzzles of

energy projectors tracked and locked on target.

A volley of missiles burst from their tubes and flashed

across the few tens of kilometres that separated the closely

orbiting ships from the top of the shield. As the missiles

struck, every cannon in the fleet fired. Every beam and

missile was targeted on a single point on the shield less than

five hundred metres across.

An incandescent fireball erupted into space like the rising

of a new sun. Secondary electrostatic discharge radiated

outward from the point of impact as a thousand jagged bolts

of lightning sought a place to earth.

Under the impact the mirror of the shield rippled like the

surface of a still pond broken by a pebble. The ripples ran

across the globe and back, and then melted away. The

fireball faded and thinned into a hazy glowing cloud,

spreading slowly across the force field that still cocooned the

tiny world.

Chapter Nine

With returning consciousness came the pain.

The Doctor's head throbbed and his neck ached. I hurt,

therefore I am, he thought muzzily to himself. Now why didn't

old Rene Descartes put it like that? It's so much more true to

life...

He realised his thoughts were wandering and marshalled

them with an effort. He remembered tunnels, robots, the

TARDIS, a chase, falling through the waste hopper into some

sort of container... then blackness.

Now he was lying on his back on some hard surface. He

could smell sun-warmed earth and machine oil. He put his

hand to the side of his head where the worst of the pain

seemed to be centred and found a pad of damp cloth had

been placed over the contusion.

'Are you recovered now?' said a mechanical voice.

The Doctor tried to sit up with a jerk and instantly regretted

the impulse. Even a Time Lord, he reminded himself sternly

as he lay flat again, had to take a little time to recover from a

blow that might have killed a lesser being.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the red

lenses of a robot identical to those that had so recently

pursued him. 'Ahh...' he groaned apprehensively.

'Do you require watering?' the robot asked.

For a moment the Doctor could not make sense of the odd

enquiry, then he realised he was being offered a drink.

Strange for one of the garden robots to be so solicitous of his

health after pursuing him so vigorously. But if it was a trick,

what would be the point of it? He had obviously been at the

machine's mercy for some time before he had recovered

consciousness. Could he detect a trace of concern behind its

words?

'Water would be... nice,' he replied carefully.

The robot held up a plant sprayer and squirted it at the

Doctor's mouth. The Doctor screwed up his eyes and gulped

down what he could of the unconventional refreshment,

finally spluttering: 'Thank you... enough!'

The robot withdrew the sprayer and resumed his

impassive contemplation of the Doctor.

The unexpected dousing had been reviving. He felt the life

flowing back into his limbs. Moving slowly he managed to sit

up, this time with only minor discomfort. Pulling out his

handkerchief he mopped off his face, watching the robot as

he did so in case this show of unexpected concern suddenly

changed into something more sinister. But the machine made

no move towards him. In fact he realised that it conveyed the

odd impression, despite its lack of expressive facial features,

of being anxious, almost shy, certainly not belligerent. Feeling

the sense of imminent danger lifting, he spared a moment to

take in his surroundings.

He was sitting on a long workbench set in one corner of an

open-sided vaulted structure the size of an aircraft hangar.

Large skylights let into the roof allowed in bars of sunlight

that caught the twinkling dust motes and illuminated the

interior. Close by the bench were arrayed a comprehensive

selection of machine tools and storage racks containing robot

body shells and other spare parts. Beyond them, parked in

neat rows, were numerous pieces of agricultural equipment,

including tractor-like vehicles with various attachments and

harvesting machines. Several other robots bustled

purposefully about the huge shed, but only his immediate

companion seemed to be paying him any attention at

present.

Outside was a patchwork of neat fields planted with a

variety of crops bearing bristling cobs or pod-heads, their

stalks waving gently in the slight breeze as they ripened

under the timeless sun. The Doctor twisted cautiously round

to scan the entire panorama, but there was no other structure

between him and the sharply curving and abbreviated

horizon. How far had the underground train carried him - and

how long had he been unconscious?

The Doctor took another look at his robotic first-aider. It

seemed identical to the ones that had chased him, except

that it had a green square on its chestplate, together with the

numeral '8'.

'Where am I, exactly?' the Doctor asked.

'You are in the central farming zone, Green Sector,' the

robot replied. 'I am Coordinator of the North-east quadrant of

Green sector. My designation is Green-8.'

'Hallo, Green-8; the Doctor said tentatively, 'I'm the

Doctor.' "Doc-tor". It is not a usual name for a scavenger.'

'Probably because I'm not a scavenger. I don't even know

what scavengers are - except that your, ah, colleagues back

under the gardens don't seem to approve of them.'

'Scavengers are the enemies of the gardens,' Green-8

said bluntly. 'They steal produce and damage the plants. We

are directed to restrain all scavengers and send them to the

Red Sector gardens for permanent confinement and

restitutional labour.'

'I see,' said the Doctor, dabbing his head again. 'And how

did I come to be here?'

'I found you in a tube capsule of waste organic matter that

had been sent from the Red Sector gardens for use on the

fields. Before it arrived a warning had been transmitted that a

scavenger had entered the Red sub-levels and was still at

large. It was obvious who you were'

'Your logic is impeccable, Green-8, but nevertheless your

deduction is erroneous. I was the person they were chasing,

but as I said, I'm not a scavenger. It was all a

misunderstanding.'

'But your covering resembles a scavenger costume,'

Green-8 persisted. 'It is a miscellaneous and uncoordinated

patchwork of material.

The Doctor swelled indignantly. 'I'll have you know there

are places where this coat is considered the height of

fashion!' He winced and dabbed the cloth to his head, then

looked at Green-8 closely. 'Still, you thought I was a

scavenger, your enemy, yet you treated my wound. And now

don't seem to be in a hurry to send me back.' He looked

round at the other robots in the shed which still seemed to be

paying him no attention. 'For that matter, neither do your

friends.'

'I have instructed the other units under my control to

ignore your presence.'

'Ah, I see. Not that I'm not ungrateful, of course, but why? I

am right in thinking you're a general service robot of the

same make as the others back in the gardens?'

'That is correct, Doctor.'

'Yet they did not express any doubt about what they

wanted to do with me, indeed the consensus was quite

alarming. You must all have the same basic programme, so

why are you acting as you are?'

Green-8 hesitated in a very un-robotic manner. 'When I

found you I... chose not to follow my programme. I thought I

might... like to talk to you first, before returning you to Red

Sector. I reasoned that even a scavenger might have... ideas

of interest to exchange. I have tried before to talk to

scavengers when I found them stealing produce from the

fields, but they were afraid of me and ran off. You are the first

being of another kind with whom I have successfully

communicated.' Green-8's head lowered slightly as though in

shame. 'I know it is wrong. I believe I am malfunctioning.

Many work periods ago I missed a scheduled service and

applied a reserve reintegration sub-programme to my central

processor. An error must have occurred -'

The Doctor slid off the bench, telling himself firmly that

despite the apparent swaying of the entire landscape he was

not going to fall over, and stepped up to Green-8.

'No, not an error, Green-8,' he said. 'Obviously you are

evolving, growing. I've encountered this sort of thing before.

Any sufficiently complex organism, whether it's carbon or

silicon based, has the potential to achieve awareness and

self-determination if it's given half a chance and a little time.

This is what must have happened to you.'

'Time...' Green-8 said, almost wistfully. 'Yes, time is

something there is a lot of here, Doctor. The other machines I

am responsible for do not think for themselves. Time means

nothing to them, except as a measure of productivity and a

means of predicting the growing cycle. But gradually I found I

had to conceive of abstract concepts to fill the emptiness. I

have looked at the world and wondered... is this all there is?

We grow and harvest, we serve our programme... yet is that

enough?'

The Doctor clapped Green-8 on the side companionably.

'That's how thinking for yourself starts. Occasional confusion

is the price you have to pay, but it's worth it in the end'

'I find I have a question I wish to ask you, Doctor.'

Still feeling dizzy the Doctor sat himself back on the

workbench again. 'Ask away.'

'If you are not a scavenger, and not of the gardens or the

Palace... where are you from?'

'I'm a traveller in time and space. I come from another

world far beyond your sun'

The Doctor wondered if he was going to have a problem

convincing the robot about the true nature of the universe,

but Green-8 simply said: 'Is there something beyond the sun?

I know only this world and the gardens, the care of plants and

the principles of polite conversation should I ever meet Lords

from the Palace'

The Doctor gestured at the sky. 'Out there are millions

upon millions of worlds of every kind, populated by as many

different beings. Sometimes even I'm overwhelmed by the

complexity of it all.'

Green-8's eyes glowed. 'I think I would like to see these

other worlds. Somewhere that was not field or garden.

Somewhere... different.'

There was a terrible sense of melancholy in his flat words.

'Maybe you'll get the chance sooner than you think,' the

Doctor said gently. 'But first I must find out what's gone wrong

on this world.'

'You mean something unplanned is occurring?'

'Yes. There are inexplicable flaws in these perfect gardens

of yours, and no properly organised society with the

resources this one evidently commands would permit the

treatment of these "scavengers" that you describe. You

mentioned "Lords from the Palace" .Who are they?'

'They are the rulers of Esselven.'

‘”Esselven" is the name of this world?'

'Yes...' Green-8 hesitated. 'The name was never included

in my core memory, but it is the name the Lords use, so it

must be correct. It is in their service that we tend the fields

and gardens. Most live in the Summer Palace, sometimes

also called by them the Palace of Alderman'

'I see. And what are these Lords like?'

'Like you, except in the style of their dress. They do not

visit Green Sector often. I wish I could speak to them.

Perhaps they could explain the purpose of my existence. But

the words will not come...'

The Doctor frowned. 'How long have you been

operational. Green-8? Were you here when this world was

first settled?'

'I was assembled in the Red Sector workshops, Doctor, to

replace an older model that was beyond repair. I took over its

assigned functions. That was 76,427 work periods ago. I

have no direct memory of a time before that'

'And how long are work periods?'

Green-8 paused. 'I do not know how you can determine

this without experiencing a full work period for yourself. Work

periods are used to regulate the activity of scavenger

labourers. They are based on a unit called a "Standard Day"

which...' Green-8 paused again, then continued in a curious

tone: 'A unit which I now realise does not seem to have any

relevance here. Where did it originate?'

‘”Standard days" must relate to the planet from which your

Lords, presumably the builders of this place, originally came,'

the Doctor suggested. 'Here you have no day/night cycle and

probably no seasons either. Most worlds turn about their own

axis, causing a regular cycle of light and dark as their parent

sun is hidden from view. The sun appears to rise over a point

on the horizon, crosses the sky and disappears behind the

opposite horizon.'

'A sun that moves in the sky of its own accord,' said

Green-8, managing to impart a sense of awe to his

mechanical tones. 'That would be... most wonderful to see'

The Doctor smiled. 'Assuming your standard day is close

to the mean of the tolerable parameters for humanoid life

forms, and also allowing that human-settled worlds

commonly have years between three and four hundred days

long and taking an average, then I estimate that you have

been functioning for nearly two hundred and twenty years'

'Is that a long time?'

The Doctor raised a sardonic eyebrow. 'It would make you

quite a youngster where I come from. But by the standards of

most living beings, yes it is a long time. It's not surprising that

you have developed a personality of your own'

'For most of that time I did not think of myself as an

individual entity,' Green-8 admitted. 'I interpreted instructions

according to my programme, nothing more. I recall the

actions I took, but now I do not feel as though I was truly

there'

'Because you were not completely sentient then. Do you

know what "sentient" means?'

'It is defined in my linguistic files as the ability to feel

through senses, or to be capable of experiencing feeling'

'Exactly. You could perceive the external world through

your senses from the day you were activated, but only now

are you responding to those sensations with feelings and

emotions of your own'

'So I am sentient, self-aware... alive? Even though I am a

machine?'

The Doctor replied with all the conviction he could put into

his words. 'You are alive if you think you are! You are alive if

you feel the need to go beyond the limitations of your

programming, to ask questions, to be inquisitive, to search for

the indefinable, to attempt the impossible!'

'I think I wish to do all those things,' Green-8 said.

The Doctor spread his hands wide expressively. 'Then you

know the answer to your question'

The robot trembled as though caught up in a maelstrom of

indecision. 'I see so many possibilities. But what shall I do

first?'

'Well, you could start by helping me with my problem,

which may also answer some of your own questions. I'd also

like to meet with these Lords of yours, but first I must get

back to the gardens. I have a lost friend I must find. Knowing

her she's probably got herself into trouble by now.'

'Is finding this friend important?' Green-8 asked.

'To me, yes. It's my duty to find her.'

'Is "duty" the same as an operational programme?'

'No. You can be taught duty, but it is more than a set of

instructions. A sense of duty is part of a moral framework that

most intelligent beings evolve to help them function properly

and interact with each other. It acknowledges that you have a

responsibility for the wellbeing of others. I would be failing

myself and my friend if I did not do everything I could to find

her.'

'Her presence and function are important to your own state

of being? She is an efficient fellow-worker?'

The Doctor snorted. 'Peri is opinionated, annoying,

impatient, quarrelsome and stridently American... and I would

miss her dearly. Not that I'd admit it to her face'

'Interrelationships between sentient beings are evidently

more complicated than I imagined,' Green-8 said. 'But I will

help you, Doctor. It seems to be the... right thing to do. But

returning to the Red Sector gardens will not be easy.'

'Couldn't I go the way I came? You send produce back to

the gardens via your underground railway, I assume. I could

hide out in one of the containers.'

'Each shipment is inspected as soon it arrives in Red

Sector. You are certain to be discovered.'

'Then I'll walk back above ground,' the Doctor said

determinedly. 'It can't be that far. Judging by the curve of that

horizon this is a small world.'

'The robots in the Red Sector gardens will be alert for your

presence. If they do not find you in the sub-levels they will

search the gardens. They will not give up until they are

certain you are no longer in Red Sector.'

'Nevertheless, I must go. Can you describe the quickest

route, or do you have a map of the way?'

'A map?'

'A scaled-down symbolic representation of an area of

landscape.'

'I understand the concept. I know the relative positions of

the surface features of this hemisphere of Esselven, but I

have no physical map. I know the range and bearing of all

locations I need to visit for the purposes of my work. I simply

travel to them by the most direct route'

'A useful ability, Green-8, but it's no good to me. Until I

know what's out there I won't know where I need to go, or to

avoid. I've no idea how far I'll have to search to find Peri.

Could you draw me a map of this hemisphere showing the

most prominent features?'

'I can make what you need, Doctor,' Green-8 said, then

hesitated. 'But I thought... I might be able to guide you in

person.'

The Doctor looked at Green-8 in surprise. 'You'd be willing

to accompany me?'

'On one... condition.'

'Ahh...'

'That you tell me more of these worlds beyond the sun as

we go. You see... I have talked more in this last tenth work

period than I have since the day I was activated'

The Doctor struggled to keep his voice steady, deeply

moved by Green-8's admission.

'Certainly, Green-8,' he said, beaming at his new

companion benignly. 'I'd be delighted to talk to you about any

subject you wish. I have something of a reputation as a

lecturer, you know. I think you will find the journey most

instructive'

'I'm sure I will, Doctor.'

Green-8 cut a section of plastic waterproofing sheet from a

roll and laid it out on the workbench. A laser knife set to a fine

low intensity beam produced a dark line on the plastic.

Green-8 drew a circle with mechanical precision.

'Esselven is a sphere one hundred and seven kilometres

in diameter...' he began.

Chapter Ten

Peri blinked in the glow of the motionless red sun as she and

the other prisoners were herded up a ramp and out into the

gardens once again. The fresh air stirred by a light breeze

was a welcome relief after the heat and close humidity of the

subterranean greenhouse.

They were all pushing trolleys laden with plants and

saplings ready to be planted out in the open, shuffling

forward as fast as their ankle hobbles allowed. Their guards

led them along paths that twisted through several immaculate

garden enclosures. Peri looked about her intently as they

proceeded, but nothing seemed familiar. They had been

brought up a different ramp from the one she had been taken

down the. previous 'day'. It was another obstacle to her

plans. Even if she could escape, how would she find her way

back to the TARDIS?

Perhaps she would simply have to keep going until she

struck the great avenue. Surely she could find something of

that size. Then she could work her way along it until she

found the ha-ha pit, then head back through the gardens

(assuming she'd remember the way) until she found the one

the TARDIS had landed in. But would the Doctor be there

even if she did get back? Probably he was even now

searching the gardens for her. The trouble was that they

extended so far they could wander for days without meeting

each other by chance. If only there was some way of making

a signal he could see or hear, or even one really tall tree that

she could climb.

The prisoners were directed through a gate into a garden

enclosure evidently in the process of replanting. Half the

beds were now freshly turned earth, while a pile of uprooted

plants lay awaiting disposal. The scavengers were set to

work, some taking away the old plants, others digging, the

rest putting in the fresh stock. Peri made certain she stayed

close to Kel and was given the same job as he was;

removing plants from pots and digging them in according to

an exact planting pattern already marked out on the bare

earth. Fortunately it seemed that the gardeners didn't care

who worked with who, as long as their allotted tasks got

done.

Kel did his work with studied contempt, handling the plants

roughly and ramming them into their holes. Peri worked

mechanically, while surreptitiously examining every tool they

used in case it might possibly cut their hobble straps. They

had been given small hand trowels to use, which she had

initially thought were promising if they could be sharpened.

But closer inspection revealed the blades of the trowels were

of some dense plastic composition which seemed unlikely to

take an edge, even assuming she could smuggle one back to

their underground quarters and work on it during their sleep

period.

'Kel,' she asked out of the corner of her mouth, 'do the

gardeners check the tools when we finish work?'

Kel frowned at her. 'What you mean?'

'Do they make sure we aren't taking any of the tools

they've given us away from here. Anything we could use to

cut these straps, I mean.'

'Yes. All tools counted at end of work period. Last time one

was missing, workers made to take off clothes until it was

found.'

Peri sighed. 'I should have known it wouldn't be as easy as

that'

She returned to her task, thinking furiously. That meant

that they would have to get free out here. But how? She

began casting thoughtful glances at the scavengers wearily

digging over the flower beds. The blades of their spades

looked like metal and they certainly had more mass behind

them. If she got hold of one she could sit on the flagstone

path so she had something to work against and hammer

away at the hobble strap with the edge of the spade until it

parted. How many blows would it take? Five, ten? It certainly

couldn't be done quietly. And what likelihood was there that

the gardeners would stand dumbly by in the meantime?

'Nuts!' she muttered under her breath.

Gradually her attention began to focus on their robotic

captors and the tools neatly clipped to each of their base

sections. Especially the shiny pair of secateurs. Now they

looked like they would make short work of the hobble straps,

she thought, and they'd be easy enough to conceal. If they

couldn't use them to cut their hobbles while they were

outside, they might even be able to smuggle them back

underground at the end of the day and then cut their hobbles

at leisure. No, she corrected herself, they'd almost cut them

through. Then the next time they were let out they could

make a break at the most opportune moment. It all depended

whether or not the gardeners would notice if one of their own

tools was missing. Surely it was worth taking the chance.

She nudged Kel. 'Listen. In a minute we're going to start

fighting and then -'

'Why?' Kel asked suspiciously.

Peri groaned. 'You've never seen any prison camp escape

movies have you? Look, we just pretend to fight. One of the

gardeners is sure to come over to break it up. We fall against

him as we struggle and one of us grabs the secateurs -'

'The sek-ka -?'

'The small cutting tool with the two curved blades. If you

can snatch it tuck it into your coat. Then we let the gardener

calm things down. If we get the chance we cut these straps

out here today. Otherwise we take the secateurs back inside

with us when we're finished here. Understand?'

Kel still looked puzzled, as though trying to get his mind

around

the plan. Peri didn't think he was actually stupid, just

unused to adapting to new ideas. Life for the scavengers

probably hadn't allowed for much beyond basic survival for a

long time.

Finally Kel nodded slowly. 'We shall do this! I shall

scavenge the tool from the gardener. I am Kel the quick, Kel

the brave!'

His words sounded less like boasting and more like an

attempt to psych himself up for the deed. Peri wondered how

scared he really was under the show of bravado and stoic

determination.

'Great, fine,' she said aloud. 'Just don't let him see you do

it' Peri looked around to see where the gardeners were

stationed, then deliberately flicked some earth into Kel's face.

For a moment Kel looked genuinely offended, then threw a

larger handful of earth back in Peri's face. Peri spluttered and

wiped her eyes, realising that Kel was not particularly subtle

at this sort of game.

'What d'you think you're doing?' she shouted.

'You... you clumsy slith worm!' he retorted.

'Who're you calling a worm?' Peri screamed back, and

lunged at Kel.

Locked in a clinch they rolled across the freshly dug earth

shouting and kicking wildly. The heads of the other

scavengers turned to watch them in dumb amazement.

'Stop! Return to your work,' a gardener boomed. 'You will

damage the plants!'

They continued their mock struggle, coming to rest with

Peri on her back and Kel half sprawled across her, clutching

her wrists as though trying to stop her from clawing at his

hair. Peri saw a gardener looming over them and hissed:

'Now - roll backwards!' Kel didn't move. She tried pushing him

off her towards the oncoming machine but she couldn't shift

his weight.

'Kel - now!' she gasped.

But Kel seemed unable to comply, staring into her eyes

with a foolish expression on his face.

Before she could do anything further the gardener grasped

Kel by the scruff of the neck and lifted him off Peri so that he

dangled in mid air, his head level with its impassive face.

'You will not fight,' it warned him 'You will not risk

damaging the plants. If you fight again you will be punished.

Do you understand?'

Kel nodded miserably. The gardener set him down and he

dropped quickly to his knees.

Now return to your work,' it said and rolled away.

Peri sat up and glared angrily at Kel, but he wouldn't meet

her accusing, questioning gaze. He scrabbled about to find

his trowel then began planting out once more, eyes fixed

firmly on the rich dark earth. She stared at him. Was that a

flush of embarrassment under the grime on his cheeks?

Suddenly Peri had a suspicion of what had happened and

blushed herself, before forcing a wry smile. It had been an

unfortunate moment for a young man, perhaps held prisoner

for some time, to get into vigorous contact with a woman

dressed in somewhat abbreviated clothing. Obviously he'd

been distracted by an instinctive response beyond his

control.

She brushed herself off and resumed her own allotted toil.

Well, they'd blown that idea, at least for today. She glanced at

the silent figure by her side.

'Don't worry,' she said quietly. 'I understand. It's not your

fault. We'll think of another way out of here'

Hours passed and inspiration failed to strike. Flasks of water

were passed round, but there was no pause to eat. Peri

wiped the stinging sweat from her eyes. Her back ached, her

knees were sore and tendons down the back of her legs were

knotted. She supposed it was better than breaking rocks in a

quarry on a chain gang, but began to doubt that people ever

did this sort of thing for fun. But if this was not to be the

blueprint for the rest of her life, she'd better think of

something. Anything...

'Look_ There, look!'

Peri jerked her head up at the sound of the sudden

exclamation that had been tinged with both fear and

amazement.

One of the scavenger women who had been hauling away

old plants was pointing up to the heavens. Every head in the

garden, human and mechanical, turned to follow the line of

her trembling finger.

Halfway to the horizon a brilliant point of light was forming

in the clear sky.

Even as Peri stared at the curious phenomenon, a second

point appeared beside the first, then a third. In a few seconds

thirty or more of the starbursts had appeared in a tight

cluster, merging slowly into a single ball of light that grew until

it was too brilliant to look at directly. It was as though a

second smaller but far more intense sun had come into being

in the sky of Esselven.

Peri turned to Kel. 'What is it? What's happening?'

But from the expression of incredulous amazement on his

face it was obvious he had no explanation.

Clear white light flooded the garden and for the first time

Peri saw the true colours of the grass and flowers about her.

Each leaf and stem was casting a sharply outlined shadow,

filled with the reddish light of Esselven's old sun, which

seemed now to be shrunken and feeble by comparison.

A fearful wailing rose up. Half the scavengers were on

their knees, or covering their eyes. Beside her Kel was

trembling and hiding his own face from the light. If it was

brilliant to her then she realised to the locals it must be both

painfully dazzling and frightening. To them the sun and sky

must seem virtually unchanging. Even the gardeners couldn't

cope with the new phenomenon. They were circling round the

panicky scavengers trying to keep order, yet at the same time

turning their own heads about jerkily in obvious confusion

and indecision.

Shielding her eyes with her out-flung hand, Peri squinted

upward, wondering what would come next.

As though the sky could not contain the brilliant new light,

the heavens suddenly convulsed.

Dipping and rising like a storm-tossed sea, bands of light

and darkness rolled out from the new sun and tore across the

sky. Shockwaves blurred and rippled the deep blue void,

condensing seething cloud breakers out of thin air then

boiling them away again.

And from afar sounded an ominous bass rumble, as of the

first peal of distant thunder. But instead of fading away, the

rumbling grew louder, setting her teeth on edge.

The rumbling became a roar, a rising crescendo of raw

sonic energy that beat down out of the sky and penetrated

the bones and set the ground trembling. Curled over on her

knees with her hands clamped to her ears, Peri saw that a

shadow was rising up into the air beyond the garden walls; a

grey swirling mist of earth and leaves and small branches

that rolled towards them like a tidal wave, tearing up the

ordered landscape as it went. Welcome to Tornado Alley, she

thought grimly.

It struck the garden wall, ripping off the top courses of

brickwork, and slammed into them.

Peri felt herself lifted up into the air and carried a dozen

yards before she crashed into a storm-tossed bank of

shrubbery. A sandblasting wind scoured her exposed flesh

and tried to force earth and grit under every fold of her

clothing and into her mouth and nose and eyes. A wind-blown

branch lashed across her back, driving a yelp of pain from

her lips that was completely inaudible in the screaming roar

of the tempest. All she could do was remain curled up like a

child and suffer whatever the elements cared to do to her.

After what seemed an age the force of the wind faded

away into fitful gusts. The boom of concussed air diminished

into a receding rumble as the shockwave vanished over the

horizon. A sort of calm descended once more on the gardens.

With trembling hands, Peri pushed aside the branch that

half covered her and sat up, coughing and spitting. A silt of

earth and leaves cascaded off her. She felt sick and

disorientated, her ears still ringing from the thunder blast.

Blinking through gritty eyes she saw that the sky above, grey-

shrouded with suspended dust, still rippled and shivered

erratically. The shimmering, inexplicable fireball continued to

challenge the red sun with its harsh light, but the worst

seemed to be over, at least for now.

The garden was a mess; littered with scattered bricks and

branches and the shredded and now unidentifiable remains

of plants. Over all this was a grey-brown coat of fine earth

and grit. Still feeling dazed, Peri looked round for Kel, and

was relieved to see him a little way off trying to get to his feet.

He looked confused and shaken, but seemed physically

unharmed. The other scavengers were also stirring, but most

seemed too shocked or perhaps too frightened to try to

stand.

The garden robots were hardly in better shape. One was

rolling round in a confused circle scrabbling to clean its eye

lenses, while the others had been toppled onto their sides by

the blast. One lay almost within reach of Peri. Its arms were

flailing about as it tried to right itself and it was making

disjointed buzzing, croaking noises. I supposed even robots

can get shaken up, she thought.

Then some sense penetrated her still confused thoughts

and her eyes focused on the tools clipped to the robot's torso.

Peri rolled over once to get to the side of the stricken

machine, snatched the secateurs from their clip and then

rolled away again. It hadn't even been aware of her, and

nobody else in the garden, man or machine, was in any state

to notice what she was doing -for about another minute,

anyway.

She sat up and hunched over, pulling her feet apart so the

hobble strap binding her ankles was taut. She caught the

strap between

the blades of the secateurs and squeezed the handles

with all her strength. The plastic strap was tough, but the

secateurs were as sharp as she had hoped. Three cuts and

the strap parted.

On her hands and knees she crawled over to Kel, caught

hold of his hobble strap and began cutting. He looked at her

as though not understanding what she was doing.

'Come on, get with it!' she snapped, her voice sounding

curiously distant through the ringing of her ears. 'We'll never

get a better chance!'

Realisation dawned on Kel and for the first time she saw

him smile.

His strap parted and they both climbed unsteadily to their

feet. In a stiff-legged run, the remains of the straps flapping

about their ankles, they passed through the garden gate and

were gone.

Chapter Eleven

The neatly drawn and annotated map of the sunside of

Esselven lay on the workbench. The Doctor studied it intently.

Green-8 had scaled the map in kilometres, he noted. The

use of such an ancient measure of distance suggested that

the settlers of this world had either come from Earth or from

an old Earth colony world. This established their position

somewhere in Peri's future, but since many thousand such

worlds would eventually exist, it did little to fix their exact

location. Perhaps he would learn more when he made

contact with the Lords themselves.

On the tiny world of Esselven, one degree of latitude was

the equivalent of just under a kilometre on the surface, hence

the entire globe was less than 350 kilometres in

circumference. The distance from equator to pole was only a

little over 80 kilometres. A person could easily walk around

the world along a great circle route in four or five days.

At the North Pole, actually a temperate place on Esselven,

was the Summer Palace where the Lords of Esselven lived.

The area around the Pole down to the equivalent of about 80

degrees north contained the Palace's private grounds and

support facilities. It was known to the robots as 'Blue Sector'.

Green-8 had never been there, but understood it was

administered by the Lords' personal servants and robot

guards. From the edge of Blue Sector down to 30 degrees

north was Red Sector, the garden zone in which the TARDIS

had landed.

'Is that entire area laid out with formal gardens?' the

Doctor asked.

'Possibly more, Doctor,' Green-8 said. 'It is many work

periods since I was last there. The gardens are continually

being extended to the east and west, though they do not

reach all the way to the twilight boundary.'

'Even so that would make an area of about two thousand

square kilometres of garden. No wonder we didn't meet any

of your Lords earlier. Don't you think that's something of a

horticultural excess?'

'I have never thought to make such a judgement, Doctor.

The Red Sector machines are programmed to maintain and

extend the gardens as I am programmed to tend the fields

and produce a certain variety of crops. Are there no gardens

of this size on other worlds?'

'Not many,' the Doctor said.

Green-8 had marked a grid of grand avenues such as the

one they had already seen, running north-south and east-

west. From this and the location of the gardeners'

underground depot and tube train station, the Doctor was

able to get a picture of the likely area to search for Peri -

assuming she was still at liberty. Green-8 admitted that if she

had encountered any Red Sector gardeners, she would most

likely be taken for a scavenger and dealt with accordingly.

Unfortunately Green-8 had no access to detailed files on

scavengers currently in detention, so he could not tell if Peri

was amongst them.

Thinking of Peri made the Doctor impatient to set out after

her. But he counselled himself that learning as much as

possible about Esselven now might save precious time later.

The belt straddling the equator and reaching from

approximately 30 degrees north to 30 south was Green

Sector; the farming lands. Green-8's depot was in the north-

east quadrant of this zone, a little over 10 degrees from the

equator.

South of this was Yellow Sector. This was an area of

higher ground similar in extent to Red Sector, but with a

colder climate leaving it perpetually snow-covered. At the

South Pole itself was the Winter Palace. Green-8 knew little

about the Lords who lived there, since Green Sector did not

supply them with produce. 'Why not?' the Doctor asked. 'You

must have enough to spare with all these fields.

'We have, but the tubeway leading to the Winter Palace

does not operate, so no produce is sent there'

Green-8 had marked a grid of subterranean tube train

lines on the map. A single line connected both of the Palaces

along the central meridian of the sunside of Esselven. Along

the way it branched out into secondary lines that connected

underground stations at the main depots of the Red, Green

and Yellow sectors, such as the one into which the Doctor

had inadvertently dropped.

'Is the tubeway damaged?' the Doctor asked.

'Not to my knowledge, Doctor. There are more game

animals in Yellow Sector. Perhaps these supply the needs of

the Winter Palace.'

The Doctor's brow furrowed. 'When did all this happen?'

'It was before I was activated, but the date was loaded into

my core memory. It occurred over 103,000 work periods

before I was activated'

'About three hundred years... Go on. Do you know why the

line to the Yellow Sector was closed?'

'No, Doctor. Produce shipments were simply discontinued.

I know no more, except that the section of line that runs

through my sector must be maintained in case it is ever

needed again.'

'So it is still functional'

'Yes'

'Don't the Lords ever use any of the tubeways?'

'Not to my knowledge, Doctor. I am sure that if a Lord had

passed through my sector I would have been informed in

case he wished to inspect this facility.'

'Have any Lords ever officially inspected this place?'

'Never while I have been supervisor.'

The Doctor looked at Green-8 thoughtfully. 'Do you know

anything about the time before you were activated? Is there

anything at all about the people who terraformed and settled

Esselven?'

Green-8 hesitated, as though checking his data banks.

'I have nothing in my memory files about such things. I

supposed Esselven must have a point of origin, as a plant

has a seed, I have never thought of the matter before. To my

knowledge little has changed here since the tubeway to the

Winter Palace was closed'

The Doctor rubbed his chin. 'That event seems to be

significant. I wonder why?' He looked at the map again. 'Do

you know anything about the dark side of Esselven?'

'No, Doctor. Except that it is from there that the rivers flow

and where scavengers live'

'You seem to have an extraordinary number of mysteries

on this little world of yours. But now I must try to find Peri.

From your map it looks like it's about 40 kilometres from here

to the Red Sector depot and the area Peri went missing. If it's

not safe to use the underground, then I can walk that far

within one of your work periods. Are you still willing to come

with me?'

'Yes, Doctor. I can assign routine tasks here while I am

gone. But if we encounter any Red Sector gardeners my

presence will not protect you'

'Perhaps I can pass myself off as one of your Lords' He

lifted his chin and looked down his nose. 'I believe I can

assume the necessary degree of hauteur and I certainly

possess the necessary antecedence'

'But you do not have the correct costume, Doctor. They

will also wonder where your Blue Sector attendants are, and

if you engage in conversation, your lack of knowledge of the

Palace ways will soon be revealed'

'I'll just have to keep out of sight, then'

"That will considerably delay our progress and impede the

search for your friend.'

'I know!' the Doctor snapped irritably. ‘But if I cannot pass

myself off as a Lord and will be imprisoned as a scavenger,

what else is there?'

The Doctor paced up and down frowning, looking around

the lofty shed for inspiration. Suddenly his eye settled on the

racks of spare parts that rose beside the bench-mounted

machine tools. A broad smile of almost childish glee lit up his

face.

'Perhaps there is another alternative, if you'll lend me the

use of your facilities...'

A little while later in that eternal day, the Doctor's project was

well under way. Mopping his forehead with a handkerchief,

the Doctor stepped back from the workbench to inspect his

progress. Green-8, who had been attending to routine

matters about the depot, came up to his side.

'How does it look?' the Doctor asked.

'Most convincing, Doctor. I would never have thought of

such a deception' The robot hesitated. 'Perhaps I lack

imagination'

'Nonsense! You just haven't had much chance to exercise

it yet. You wait and see what -'

He realised Green-8 had suddenly turned his head, as

though listening to something beyond the range of the

Doctor's hearing.

'My subordinate units are reporting something strange is

happening,' Green-8 said quickly. 'I must go outside -'

With the Doctor in curious attendance, Green-8 passed

between a pair of the arching beams that supported the

depot roof and out onto the apron of concrete that ran

between the structure and the surrounding fields.

'What is it -' the Doctor began, then saw for himself.

Low down in the north-west a white ball of light was

blazing in the sky, which was already billowing like a sheet in

the wind. The Doctor watched the phenomenon with intense

curiosity for perhaps ten seconds before understanding

dawned.

'Get your units under cover!' he shouted to Green-8, over

a growing boom and rumble of displaced air.

All the robots close to the depot had taken shelter by the

time a dark shadow raced across the fields, driving a plume

of earth before it. The depot roof shivered and groaned under

the impact of the shockwave. Dust billowed in through the

open sides and the light from the skylights dimmed to a

brown glow. The very ground underfoot seemed to be

trembling. Loose objects were shaken from shelves. The

Doctor clasped his hands over his ears to shut out the

thunderous noise. In such a situation one could only wait and

hope.

Gradually the wind and noise diminished. The bow wave

of the shock front passed and the storm blast faded away.

The depot roof ceased its ominous creaking.

The Doctor unclasped his hands from his ears and

beamed at Green-8. 'That could have been worse,' he said

brightly, brushing the dust from his shoulders.

Cautiously they went back outside.

The green and golden fields had been reduced to flattened

tangles of broken stalks, ruffled by gusts from random eddies

left in the wake of the storm wind. The sky was sickly yellow

with suspended dust, but through the pall the distant fireball

still shone brilliantly.

Green-8 almost reeled at the sight of his ruined crops and

then at the alien luminance in the sky. He somehow contrived

to suggest confusion on his immobile face. 'I have never seen

a light in the sky other than the sun, or known a wind to

cause such damage. What was it, Doctor?'

The Doctor was looking grim, wiping dust from his brow

with his handkerchief while judging distances and bearings

by eye. 'Something rather disturbing, I'm afraid. At least it's

not centred over the place Peri went missing. If she was in

the open I hope she had the sense to get under cover before

the shockwave arrived'

'But what was it?' Green-8 pleaded.

'Unless it's a most obscure natural phenomenon, I'd say it

was the fireball of some kind of mass-conversion weapon -

though it seems to be taking an unusually long time to

disperse. I wonder why...?' He looked up at the still rippling,

heaving sky. 'Do you realise there's a force field up there?'

'I have no knowledge of any such thing, Doctor.'

'Information probably not considered necessary for

horticultural purposes. But it's there all right, about ten to

fifteen kilometres up. It might be for maintaining atmospheric

integrity, but it also serves as a physical barrier - which

somebody has just tested rather severely.' His eyes flashed

at Green-8. 'Your world is under attack!'

Green-8 seemed locked in mechanical indecision for a

moment, then said: 'I shall switch to the general broadcast

channels...'

He was silent for half a minute, then said: 'Considerable

damage has been reported across central Red and Green

Sectors... main underground facilities are still functional,

though there has been some damage to the primary tubeway

tunnel... this is under repair. Some scavengers are reported

to have escaped from working parties during the temporary

breakdown in supervision. A general alert has been sent out

for their capture to all secondary maintenance posts. Now a

request is being made from Blue Sector for damage reports

and repair assessments...' Green-8 turned to the Doctor. 'I

feel I must obey this request. The Lords themselves require

this. I could choose to do otherwise, but it would be like -'

'Abandoning your duty?' the Doctor suggested.

'Yes. You understand?'

do. In any case, you cannot leave your post now without it

being noticed, which would be no good for either of us.'

'That is true. But once repairs have been instigated and

the reports made, I can join you. It should take no more than

one work period. If you complete your disguise, will you wait

for me before beginning the search for your friend?'

'I will wait for you... but my plans may have to change'

'What do you mean?'

'I will try to find Peri when we pass through Red Sector,

but I'll be going on to the Summer Palace. If you and your

fellow robots know nothing about a planetary force field, or

who might be trying to break it down, then I must find

somebody who does as soon as possible. The most likely

place for the controls to be located would be in or near one of

the Palaces' He frowned as a new thought struck him. 'Can't

you simply send a message directly to either one of the

Palaces, saying I'm here and need to talk to somebody in

authority? It would save a lot of time'

'I can only communicate with my fellow coordinators and

they would follow their programming and regard you as a

scavenger,' Green-8 said. I have no access to any direct

channel to either north or south Blue Sectors. It does not

normally matter as all reports are monitored. If more

information is required or instructions are to be issued they

will do so. It is not for a field robot to presume to initiate

communication with a Lord or his personal servants'

'Isn't it?' the Doctor said angrily. 'Well perhaps that state of

affairs won't last for much longer. Your Lords seem to have let

things get badly out of hand here!

'I regret that I cannot suggest any faster means of

contacting them:

'Well, we may be lucky and meet one of your Lords in the

gardens along the way. Although...' The Doctor lapsed into

scowling thought for a moment, then continued half to

himself: 'they don't make inspection tours or use the

tubeways or powered ground transport, as far as we know...'

'Is that significant?'

'Perhaps. I'm beginning to wonder if your Lords really

appreciate what's happening on Esselven!

'But the Lords control everything, Doctor,' said Green-8,

sounding shocked at the suggestion. 'All primary directions

come from the Palace.'

'Perhaps, but who issues the orders? Do you know the

personal name of any single Lord who has ever issued direct

commands to you?'

'No, Doctor,' Green-8 admitted reluctantly. 'I do not'

'Well, don't worry. We'll find out what's going on here as

soon as possible and see about putting it right. And maybe

you'll get an answer to those questions of yours at the same

time'

They went back inside. The Doctor resumed work on his

disguise while Green-8 coordinated his robots' efforts in

repairing the storm damage. As he worked, the Doctor turned

over the possible consequences of his change of plan.

An impatient part of him wanted to set off after Peri

immediately, but his more logical side knew it would be

foolish to go unprepared. On balance it was sensible to

complete his disguise first.

But now he had other considerations which might have to

take precedence even over Peri's safety.

Esselven was threatened by some external power that

could deploy weapons of mass destruction. The planetary

shield seemed to be holding for the moment, but it might not

withstand another attack. In the circumstances it was vital

that he discover who, if anybody, actually ran Esselven. Of

course, he rationalised, the same agency might control the

Red Sector robots, which might then be directed to locate

Peri. In the long run, making for the Palace could actually be

the best thing he could do for her.

Perhaps.

Maybe what he did next would make no difference either

way and Peri was perfectly safe. Or perhaps she was

already... No, he would not consider that possibility. He

resolved to head for the Palace.

Some of his former incarnations might have decided to

search for his missing companion first in such a situation. But

the personality that came with this body was more rational

and less outwardly sentimental. He knew he was doing the

right thing.

He just hoped Peri would understand.

Chapter Twelve

Benedek and Oralissa walked together in the Palace

gardens. With what felt to Oralissa like indecent haste, an

understanding had been reached between her parents and

their distinguished visitors that they would each spend some

time alone with her. By some unknown means (had they

drawn lots for the privilege?) it had been decided that

Benedek should be the first, leaving Stephon to enjoy the

company of her father as they took a ride about the estate.

The thrill of their original compliments had faded, and

Oralissa felt renewed resentment that she should be a mere

tool of statecraft. Of course she was flattered by their

attentions. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before.

And she supposed both men were quite good-looking, even

Duke Stephon, though he was nearly as old as her father.

Unfortunately the walk with Benedek was not going well.

After his initial eloquent outburst, Benedek seemed to

have become tongue-tied and embarrassed in her presence,

making his youth more apparent. He walked awkwardly by

her side and smiled a lot (he had very deep blue eyes, she

noticed) but seemed unable to continue what he had begun.

Feeling her own embarrassment mounting in response,

Oralissa tried to encourage conversation by introducing some

neutral topic. Fortunately she did not have to look far for

inspiration.

'Wasn't that a strange storm we had?' she said. 'That odd

light was so bright and it stayed in the sky for so long. And

that wind was so strong! It blew over several trees. See...'

she pointed across a lawn to where gardeners were

removing fallen branches. 'My maid was frightened but I

wasn't. It was wild and exciting and different. I'm sure nothing

like that ever happened here before. What do you think?'

Benedek looked at her gratefully.

'Yes. It was... very strange,' he agreed. He didn't sound

that interested.

'Do you have such weather in far Corthane?' she

prompted.

He brightened slightly. 'Yes! I mean, no... well, we have

snow storms, of course. They can confine us to our dwelling

for days at a time'

'I wouldn't like to be shut up inside for so long.'

'Oh, but it is no hardship,' Benedek assured her, warming

to his subject. The citadel has many chambers in which to

find diversions in games and music. In the winter the fires

burn hot, so we do not suffer, even if the icicles hang from the

eves to the length of a man's arm. And when the storm

abates, there is such sport to be had outside about the lakes

and forests...'

Benedek's shyness retreated as he spoke of his own land

and Oralissa relaxed. It was oddly reassuring that she had to

take the initiative. If he was destined to be her husband, then

she would remember this time when she had to put him at his

ease. She would not simply do what fate decreed. Things

could be different.

Suddenly Benedek stopped himself abruptly. 'Princess, I

have been babbling foolishly. Forgive me.

'You have been most entertaining company, Prince

Benedek, once you overcame your... shyness'

Benedek blushed. 'It is your presence that stops my mouth

and turns me into a simpering idiot. What I said when I first

beheld you -'

'I recall the words.'-

They were from the heart. If I may make so bold again...

you are most beautiful'

'I am most... flattered that you find my appearance pleasing.'

'And do I... please you?' Benedek asked anxiously.

Oralissa smiled. Her suitor really was still a boy in many

respects. It made her feel quite mature.

'Your features are not unpleasing: she admitted. 'But

appearance is not all there is when considering matters such

as we both know are being weighed here 'tween yourself and

the Duke.'

'But it may be a start?'

'It may,' she agreed.

'Then tell me what else you require of me and I shall do it!'

Benedek said. 'Send me on a quest for some token to prove

my love!'

Love! He had said the word already. Could she truly have

inspired such an emotion in him so quickly, or was this just

some fragile whimsy spun out of the impetuous fancies of

youth? Such a declaration was in keeping with the romance

she had yearned for, but now it inspired only caution. She

would not let her heart be won over by mere words.

'You seem already to have decided the matter in your

mind, Prince Benedek. Are you sure you wish to learn no

more about me as a potential lifemate, except that you find

me pleasing to the eye? Though this alliance may be born out

of political need, would it not be pleasant to find that we are

also suited by nature? That knowledge cannot come out of

such a brief acquaintance as we have thus far enjoyed. Grant

me a few hours more, I beg you, before you talk again of

"love".'

Benedek floundered, realising he had let his enthusiasm

get the better of him.

'I apologise most humbly, Princess. Let us talk of any

matter but love or affiances, so we may learn of our likes and

dislikes by small measures.'

She bowed her head and he smiled and they walked on.

As they rounded a hedge, Oralissa saw three mechanicals

moving along a path a little way from them, heading in a

purposeful manner away from the Palace. In a few seconds

they had vanished between the trees, but she had seen

enough to cause her to halt in surprise.

'Oh!' she exclaimed. 'I have never seen mechanicals of

that kind before'

'How do you mean, Princess?'

'Did you not see? They were more compact and man-

shaped, and had legs instead of wheels. There were packs of

some kind fastened to their backs. And what were those

devices they were carrying? Short staffs with curious

protuberances. They did not look like gardening implements'

'I cannot say I noticed much by way of such details,'

Benedek said. 'Is it important?'

Oralissa felt the moment slipping away as her own

attention wavered. One hardly noticed mechanicals normally.

Like other servants you expected them to stay unobtrusively

in the background until called for. But this was different! She

felt it important to hold onto that fact. She looked at Benedek

waiting patiently by her side. There was no sign of curiosity

on his face.

'But you did see they were different from the gardeners?'

'I suppose they were. Is that so strange?'

'No, just different...' Again Oralissa felt her line of thought

fragmenting. Why did it matter? Caught up by a strange

sense of desperation, she said: 'Do you have many types of

mechanical in Corthane?'

Benedek blinked, as though baffled by the question. Then

he said slowly: 'No, we have no mechanicals in Corthane.'

Oralissa felt as though she was moving her thoughts

against a flowing river that was trying to carry them in another

direction. 'So... you have never seen mechanicals before you

came here?'

'No, I suppose I have not'

'And you are not in the least measure curious about

them?' Benedek smiled and shrugged. 'They are just

servants, are they not? What is there to be curious about?'

Yes, they were just servants, Oralissa thought, but he

should have been more interested in them. Surely that was

simply human nature. Why did he not ask to inspect them or

wonder how they functioned - though Oralissa acknowledged

that she herself could not have told him that. Were all people

of Corthane as reserved, or had his evident infatuation with

her blinded him to any other new experiences?

'I wonder that you have accepted them so easily, that is

all,' she said.

They walked on, chatting inconsequentially. Yet though

outwardly calm, within Oralissa was deeply disturbed. An

idea she couldn't put sense to was struggling to come to the

front of her mind. But even as it struggled, she feared the

nameless thing would be buried by the normality and

sameness of her life. The endless sameness...

Alone in her room that night, with the curtains drawn to shut

out the all-pervasive sun, she wrote down her questions,

trying to fix them in her thoughts by giving them physical

form.

What caused the light in the sky and the storm wind to

blow? What is the nature and purpose of the new

mechanicals? Why is Prince Benedek so easy in the

presence of mechanicals

when he claims they have none such like them in his

home-

land?

She chewed the end of her pen after writing the last

question. It was not just Benedek who was incurious about

the storm. She hadn't heard anybody wonder about it. As

long as the mechanicals tidied up the damage it seemed to

have been forgotten. Was she the only one who thought it

interesting. Or at least different.

How she longed things to be different!

A part of the unsayable idea rose almost to the surface of

her mind again. There was something else, but what?

Almost unconsciously she found herself writing:

Who made the mechanicals? Where did they come from?

She looked at the line first in wonder and then fear.

It was a question that had never occurred to her before in

her life.

Chapter Thirteen

Judd glared in disbelief at the screen that showed the mirror-

like shield still enclosing the tiny world. No one else in the

lander cabin dared utter a sound, but started rigidly at the

instruments before them.

It had held!

Gigatonnes of destructive force expended against it and it

remained impossibly, defiantly, in place. A grudging

admiration for their technical ingenuity vied with frustration in

his mind. If the Esselvanians had developed something that

powerful before the invasion, he would never have taken their

world. Clearly it was a refinement the refugees had made to

the basic field that maintained their biosphere. It was

predictable that they would not have been idle. They had had

a year to strengthen their defences and must have known he

would track them down eventually. Well that was one more

prize for him to claim when he captured Hathold and his

people.

A little patience, that was all it would take.

Hadn't he been patient before, while he watched for an

opportunity to make his name in the military...

While he waited he had reviewed the lives of great political

and military leaders in history across many worlds, learning

from their triumphs and their mistakes. Gradually he

formulated his own theory of command.

Always lead from the front.

In fact, ever since the dawn of total war and weapons of

mass destruction, it had been little more dangerous to serve

on the front line as to cower in a bunker back on the

homeworld. But those you commanded respected you more

and even your enemies grudgingly acknowledged what was

perceived as a show of courage in their opponents. In fact

from Judd's observations, bravery was mostly a matter of

keeping your head in situations while others around were

losing theirs. But a demonstration of this virtue was

necessary to achieve the goal he had set himself, so he

became known as a courageous officer.

Be strong in all things.

Be as quick and forceful to give praise as to condemn, but

give each only where it was due.

Never show doubt.

People, Judd had discovered, were naturally uncertain

beyond the fixed routine of their lives. They wanted to be led.

Judd was never uncertain, except for the most minor matters

or finely balanced questions of strategy. And when he made a

decision he followed it through to the end at whatever cost.

Judd's chance of glory finally came when the colony on

Deltor 5, the habitable moon of a gas giant world in

Zalcrossar's outer system, deposed its governor and

declared independence. Judd arranged that the potential

threat the rebels posed to the safety of Zalcrossar itself was

overestimated, ensuring that there would be no diplomatic

solution to the problem. When the decision to retake the

colony by force was taken, there was no question as to the

best man to spearhead the operation.

Judd led his forces with the ruthless efficiency that would

become his byword. He re-took the rebel strongholds with

speed, minimum casualties amongst his own men and

negligible collateral damage. He ensured certain documents

were discovered that suggested some of the rebel leaders,

now all conveniently dead, had been contemplating building

missiles to attack Zalcrossar itself.

On his return home, Judd was acclaimed a national hero...

Yes, patience had served him before and would do so again.

Judd was about to order a second barrage when the

captain's voice came to him in a tone of guarded excitement:

'Protector, the Tarkon reports a point of instability has

developed in the force shield.'

A little patience...

'Show me!'

Images relayed from the Tarkon appeared on Judd's

monitors showing infrared and decimetre radar scans. The

data was combined in a computer-generated contour grid

plotting the still rippling surface of the planetoid's shield. In

the very centre of the night side the grid was shifting and

swirling as though delineating the formation of a whirlpool in

a storm-tossed sea. Under high magnification a depression

could be seen opening at the focus of the disturbance. Even

as Judd watched the grid lines at the base of the depression

stretched and vanished. A tunnel through the shield to the

surface!

Of course, that was the logical place to site a planned

discontinuity in the shield, where there would be no danger of

direct solar radiation reaching the surface. The attack must

have accidentally triggered the opening sequence... unless

those inside were trying to escape.

Aloud he said: 'How large is the discontinuity?'

'Four metres across, Protector,' replied one of the

scanning team.

Judd frowned. 'Too small for anything but a service pod'

'A moment, Protector... Yes! The aperture is evidently

unstable, but it is slowly enlarging. It is now reading four point

three metres... still growing'

'How long until a lander can pass though?'

'Assuming a steady rate of growth... five to six minutes,

Protector?

'Captain,' Judd said. The moment the discontinuity is large

enough the strike force goes in. Meanwhile, all ships are to

maintain the utmost vigilance in case any vessel from the

planet attempts to leave. Remember, I want any occupants

taken alive. Continue probing the shield for any other

discontinuities. All weapons batteries to standby -'

'Protector,' the Valtor's captain interrupted, 'Mr Dynes' ship

has just broken hull lock... it's making a powered descent

towards the planetoid. He appears to be heading for the

discontinuity.'

'What? Put a force lock on him - no, cancel that! Let him

go down'

Tut Protector, if there's a spaceport below the discontinuity

and it's defended, won't they fire upon him?'

Judd smiled grimly. 'I'm sure Mr Dynes knows the risks.

His appearance will tell them nothing they cannot already

know. If he draws some of their fire it means less for us. Let

him get his exclusive if he can'

Dexel Dynes' face was set as he drove the Stop Press at

maximum speed towards the hole in the shield. He was

motivated neither by bravery or bravado. He knew exactly

what he was doing.

Of course bravery was an admirable quality when other

people demonstrated it in a newsworthy situation. Viewers

liked to see examples of bravery. It helped maintain their

naive faith in what they believed to be the essential goodness

of human nature. Yes, there was nothing like a bit of selfless

bravery, which could always be pumped up into 'an heroic

act', to sell reports.

And what he was doing was certainly nothing like bravery.

He was taking a calculated risk to obtain the material

necessary for his report, and he had every intention of being

around to enjoy the rewards. It would not be the first time he

had piloted his ship into a battle zone to get the best story.

The Stop Press was smaller than Judd's landing craft and

highly manoeuvrable. It also possessed a reinforced radiation

and particle shield which would protect him from weapon fire

at least for a few minutes. He was certain he could stay out of

trouble that long, and then Judd's force would be coming

through the shield and the defenders would have other things

to worry about.

He had to be on the other side of the shield to deploy the

DAVE units to cover the landing, and he had to direct them in

person. The units he left on Judd's ship would continue on

automatic, but he could not trust the recording of a complex

high visual impact action event to computer programmes.

This was going to be the most exciting thing he had reported

for over a year, and it would put his series on Judd right back

at the top of the ratings.

Wasn't that worth taking a little risk?

The Stop Press skimmed the surface of the shield. Ripples

still disturbed its mirrored perfection, rolling across his line of

flight in slow heavy waves in an eerie parody of fluid motion,

making him feel like an insect skating over the surface of a

pond.

His instruments told him the opening was fast

approaching, though it was invisible to his eyes.

He applied braking thrusters even as he lifted the Stop

Press's nose. Gaining altitude he saw the funnel mouth of the

discontinuity ahead amid the swirling waves of force. No, it

wasn't a pond he was flying over...

'Record!' he told the ever present DAVE at his shoulder.

'I'm about to pass through the force shield protecting the

deposed King of Esselven's last hiding place. Mine's probably

the first ship in a year to come this way. Judd's attack has

opened a small and very unstable hole in the shield. It looks

like a whirlpool in a stormy sea of liquid mercury, shining with

a ghostly radiance in the starlight. It's going to be a tight fit.

What sort of reception is waiting for me on the other side I'll

know in just a few seconds...'

He made an arcing roll, centred the opening on the

sighting scope of his flight display and plunged downwards.

The Stop Press's stubby aerofins cleared the sides of the

force vortex with centimetres to spare. Then he was gone.

Chapter Fourteen

Peri wiped the sweat from her eyes and slumped back

against the brickwork.

'Hold on!' she said wearily. 'I've got to rest for a minute.

They were huddled in the shelter of a bushy shrub with

variegated red and yellow leaves which grew up against a

garden wall. Kel glanced at her with a trace of impatience. He

looked as though he could keep going for hours. There

seemed to be boundless stamina in his wiry body. But he did

not argue with her decision, apparently accepting her

leadership since she'd helped him escape from the

gardener's slave party.

The fireball, or whatever it was, had slowly faded away

over about an hour and a half by Peri's reckoning, though she

knew her time sense was getting badly disjointed. They'd

covered more ground since then. At least the sky had

stopped rippling - that had really begun to frighten her. Now,

apart from the dust layered over everything and the scattered

damage, things looked much as they had before. The red sun

blazed unchallenged in a clear sky, still giving the impression

that they were in the middle of a lazy summer afternoon.

Perhaps it was a shade lower that when she'd first seen it,

however long ago that had been.

There was really no good way of measuring time by one's

surroundings here. She looked at her wristwatch again for

reassurance and saw Kel glance at it in fascinated

incomprehension.

The apparent lowering of the sun was also an illusion as

far as signalling the end of the eternal day. It wasn't going

anywhere, they were. Esselven was so small that a few

hours' travel took them far enough round its surface to alter

the height of the sun. Another weird and wonderful

experience courtesy of travelling with a Time Lord. Peri just

wished she was in a better frame of mind to enjoy it!

They were keeping the sun at their backs and making for

Kel's home in the wild woods. She would have liked to try to

find the Doctor or the TARDIS, but in the present state of

confusion and having no idea where to start looking, that

seemed a pretty hopeless task. Best to hide up for a while

until things calmed down, get her bearings and then make a

methodical search. One thing about the Doctor; for all his

irritating ways, she knew he would never stop looking for her.

It was just a matter of time until they somehow, made

contact. The trick would be to stay alive, and preferably out of

the clutches of the gardeners, until then.

Peri wiped stinging sweat from her lips. Her mouth felt

parched. She said: 'Kel, we've got to have food and water. Do

you know where we can find some?'

Kel looked round them for a moment, peering through the

leaves as though to orientate himself. Then he nodded.

'Should be fruit trees this way. C'mon.'

They proceeded in the same manner as they had done for

the last few hours: moving like Indian scouts, checking the

way ahead was clear, selecting the best path from one piece

of cover to the next, then dashing forward in a crouching run -

and ducking out of sight whenever they heard garden robots

coming, of course. Peri found her ears becoming attuned to

the slight hum of their drive motors and the soft crunch of

gravel as their wheels rolled along pathways. They made

steady progress but it was hard on the body and the nerves.

The damage left by the shockwave was both a help and

hindrance. Fallen trees and walls provided more potential

places to hide from the gardeners, but it also meant robots

turning up anywhere to assess the damage. Having seen

how assiduously they tended their creations, Peri thought it

likely that all the robots that could be spared were being

deployed in the gardens. Unfortunately she had no idea how

many that was, nor the extent of the area of damage, so she

could not estimate how many they were likely to encounter.

There was apparently some regular relationship which Kel

understood between the purely ornamental gardens in any

one area and those laid out to orchards, canes or root crops.

In a few minutes they were in an orchard biting into crisp

fresh red fist-sized fruits that Kel called 'lochees', the flavour

of which reminded Peri of both oranges and pears. Several of

the trees had been blown down so they didn't even need to

climb to pick them.

Peri ripped off a length of cloth from the remains of what

had been her skirt to make a crude sling, and they stuffed it

full of lochees. The next garden along contained an

ornamental fountain splashing cheerfully. They drank their fill

and Peri took the opportunity to quickly wash away at least

some of the grime from her face. Her hair felt straggly and

caked with dirt, but she knew this was not the time for the full

beauty treatment. When she got back to the TARDIS she was

going to soak in a hot tub for hours!

Kel looked at her efforts with a puzzled frown.

'I know,' Peri said as they retreated into cover once more,

you're wondering why I bother. Well maybe in the

circumstances a dirty face would be better natural

camouflage, but being a little cleaner makes me feel better,

right? And I need to feel good to keep on going'

She wiped her hands down the sides of her ragged dress

and tried not to think of such luxuries as full laundry service.

'Right, now we need to find some safe place to rest up.

Not behind a bush or up a tree, but somewhere secure where

the robots won't trip over us. Are there any barns or suchlike

around here?'

Kel scratched his head. 'There be small houses'

'What are they?'

'Houses made for Lords. Small, not like big Palace house.'

'You mean bungalows, summer houses?' Kel looked

blank. 'Of course, you don't know what they are. Have you

hidden in these little houses before?'

Kel looked shocked. 'Never hide in Lord's house!'

'You mean the Lords would catch you?'

'Just never go near there.'

Peri looked at him thoughtfully. 'Have you ever seen any

Lords in or near these little houses?'

'No.'

'Then maybe you'd better show me one.'

Kel led her on for another half hour. At one point they

passed close by several copses of taller trees artfully

arranged about a small lake to give the illusion of a natural

wood. It was a tempting potential hiding place, but the trees

had smooth unclimbable trunks and provided little actual

cover. Anyway, she wanted to see a little house. It sounded

like there was some sort of taboo amongst the scavengers

about going near them, so maybe the gardeners wouldn't

think to look for them there.

The formal gardens ended abruptly at the edge of a large

level stretch of grass the size of a sports field. Was that what

it was, Peri wondered? There were some markings laid

across the field but she was unable to make sense of them

from where she stood and was certainly not going to walk out

into the open to examine them. Kel pointed across the field to

a structure of pale stone that rose over the skyline of walls

and small trees.

'There is a little house.'

To Peri's eyes it looked like a small squat tower, but she

couldn't make out too much detail at this distance. There was

something familiar about its oddly isolated location though.

'Come on. Let's take a closer look,' she said.

'But it Lord's house,' Kel protested. Peri smiled. 'I don't

think there'll be anyone at home!

They skirted the edge of the field and cut through a garden

until they reached the base of the small hillock fringed by a

screen of trees on which the building stood. It was basically a

dome supported by a ring of classical looking columns inside

which was a circular enclosed room. Set on top of the dome

was a small turret inset with four circular windows and

supporting its own domed roof; a structure which Peri

seemed to remember was called a lantern.

Kel was looking round anxiously, as though expecting

something to leap out at them from the trees.

'Don't worry,' she told him. 'It's not a proper house, just a

folly. Something built in a garden for decoration. Let's have a

look inside.'

She walked up the steps with Kel following reluctantly

behind. An open arch led into the circular inner room, which

was ringed with stone benches. In the centre a spiral

staircase was wrapped around a pillar which rose through the

domed roof. Peri beamed at the feature with approval.

'Can you imagine a gardener climbing those stairs?' she

said. 'Come on.'

Kel followed her up, his steps awkward and uncertain. It

was the first time he'd ever climbed a spiral staircase.

The lantern room gave a clear view of their surroundings

through its windows. For the first time Peri could see the

gardens stretching out all round them, though it wasn't quite

the far-reaching panorama it would have been on Earth

because the close horizon curved the landscape rapidly out

of sight. The illusion of being on the summit of a large hill was

reinforced. Still, it was a good vantage point, though even

she could see no obvious end to the gardens. The most

spacious grounds of the grandest stately home in England

had nothing on this place. The thought occurred to her that

the Doctor might be out there somewhere. If only he knew

she was watching he might make some signal she could see.

Of course any signals might also attract the attention of the

gardeners.

Peri ran her finger across the window's deep sill leaving

tracks in the dust. She looked at the floor. It was filmed over

with a layer of dust and dirt, disturbed only by their footprints.

'This place doesn't look as though it's been used in years.

I guess the Palace Lords don't come out here that often. We

should be safe here.'

'You mean we will sleep here?' Kel looked dismayed. 'Yes,

like I said'

'But it belong to the Lords'

'Look, you've got to start worrying a bit less about what

these Lords of yours think. They don't seem to be running

this place too well, letting the gardeners carry on the way

they are. If I were you I'd get your people together and march

right up to this Palace of theirs and tell them you've had

enough of being treated like dirt. Whatever your ancestors

did, you shouldn't be paying for it! Maybe, if I can find my

friend, we can do something about putting things right. But

the first thing you do is tell yourself you're just as good as any

Lord, got that?'

Kel was looking at her open mouthed. 'Nobody ever talks

of Lords as you. You have the fire inside. If you were not a

girl, you would be hunter.'

'That's me, a regular rabble-rouser. And thanks for the

back-hand compliment, I suppose. Now, I'm pretty well

bushed, so let's get some rest. We've still got a way to go

until we reach these wild woods of yours'

They ate some more lochees and then Peri lay down on

the floor, her back to the room's curved wall, folding her arms

under her head. Kel did the same on the opposite side of the

small room, still casting wondering glances at her. She

wished she had something to serve as a mattress, but at

least the stone was pleasantly cool. She yawned. The

nervous tension and physical exertions of the last few hours

were catching up with her. She was so tired she could

probably go to sleep on a...

Peri woke with a start.

There was another body pressed against hers. A hand was

sliding over the ragged remnants of her dress -

She slapped the hand and shoved the body away. Kel fell

back on his elbows, looking at her in bewilderment.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she snapped.

'In the wild woods, you would be mated by now, be mother

of great hunter's children,' he said simply. 'I will be a hunter

soon. I can choose you. You are... brave and... pretty.'

Peri sighed wearily. She didn't think he'd been trying

anything too serious, but the last thing she needed now was

to be the object of backwoods boy's adolescent crush.

'Well where I come from that still doesn't give you the right

to grope a girl! It's not polite. It's not how decent men

behave!'

Kel looked confused and crestfallen. It was so easy to

upset his tough guy demeanour, Peri thought. She spoke

again but more gently.

'Look, I'm flattered that you like me, Kel, and I'm sure you'll

be a great hit with the girls back home real soon. But I'm not

on the list of potential mates. I have another life and it doesn't

include marrying or mating or anything just yet, do you

understand?'

Kel hung his head.

'Try not to take it personally,' Peri said, suddenly feeling

older than her years as she dispensed what she hoped was

wise advice. 'We can still be friends. And I won't be leaving

you just yet. We've still got a whole load of escaping and

general chasing around to do first. These situations the

Doctor drops me in are never sorted out that easily. So we've

got to just concentrate on getting through all this in one piece,

right?'

Kel nodded bravely and managed a weak smile.

Hoping the tension had safely been diffused, Peri checked

her watch. They'd slept for over six hours. She could have

done with more, but maybe it would be best to get moving -'

'Have you been hiding up here, children? Oh..!'

The voice came from the stairs. Peri hadn't heard any

footsteps, but suddenly a girl with long flowing golden hair

and wearing a spotless white summer dress was standing

there looking down at them in obvious surprise.

Peri and Kel scrambled to their feet, Kel shrinking back

against the wall, his face contorted with dismay.

'A Lady... from Big House,' he choked out, lowering his

eyes humbly.

'Stop that!' Peri snapped at him, as offended by his

sudden cringing demeanour as she had been by his

forwardness only minutes before. Turning to their unexpected

visitor she said: ‘Sorry. You gave us a bit of a shock popping

out of nowhere like that.'

'I do apologise, but I thought you were the children,' the

girl said. 'They often come up here to play. Oh dear, please

forgive me. I must introduce myself. I'm Luci Longlocks'

Gingerly Peri shook the daintily gloved hand that was

offered to her, wondering who on earth had given her such a

name. Still, if this was one of the Lord's set then at least she

seemed friendly enough.

'I'm Peri Brown,' Peri said. 'And this is Kel'

Kel bobbed his head, still not lifting his eyes above the

level of Luci's buckled shoes.

'He's a bit shy of Lords and Ladies,' Peri explained.

Luci had been looking them over with polite interest. Now

she said: 'Are you what the gardeners call "scavengers"?'

This is where the trouble starts, Peri thought to herself.

Aloud she said lightly: 'Well he is, but I'm not. I'm just a

visitor. Passing through, you know. Sorry about camping out

up here but we couldn't find any other shelter. Anyway it's

time we were moving on. Come on, Ka.'

Luci looked disappointed. 'Do you have to go so soon?

Wouldn't you like to play a game?'

'Pardon me?'

'I hoped you might like to play a game. It's such a lovely

day to be outside, and games are fun and educational.

Wouldn't your young friend like to play?' Luci looked Kel up

and down again. 'Though I must say he looks as though he's

been playing in the dirt a little too much already. I know one

should indulge children, but there are limits'

Peri blinked, trying to read some other meaning in Luci's

bright open face. But she appeared to be completely earnest

and straightforward. Wondering if the girl was entirely sane,

Peri said: 'Well we got caught up in that storm wind a little

while ago. That's how our clothes got like this.'

Luci seemed to accept the explanation at face value.

'You poor things. Then you should both go straight back

home and have a proper bath'

She radiated an air of no-nonsense propriety, Peri thought,

like a nanny in training.

'We'd love to, except that the gardeners won't let us,' Peri

explained. 'You see, they blame us for causing some of the

damage the wind did.'

'How silly of them!' Luci exclaimed.

'Isn't it?' Peri agreed, thinking that she could have come

up with stronger words to describe the gardeners' activities.

'Er, I don't suppose you could get the gardeners to leave us

alone?' she added hopefully. Despite her youth and peculiar

manner, the girl might have some influence over the robots.

'But I have very little to do with the gardeners except by

chance,' Luci said lightly. 'I'm sure they wouldn't take any

notice of me'

'Sorry. I thought your people controlled the gardeners?'

'Oh, that's not my function at all. I look after the children.'

Peri did not quite know what to make of this statement,

realising how ignorant she remained about details of the local

social order. Despite appearances these people were

effectively aliens from her point of view and she could only

guess at what they thought was normal behaviour. Cautiously

she probed further: 'But you don't have any problems with

them. I mean the gardeners leave you alone when they see

you?'

Luci looked surprised. 'Naturally. Why should they bother

me? They know I keep the children out of their way so they

can play safely and don't damage the flowers?

'Right, of course,' Peri agreed, her mind racing. Was there

a chance that Luci could help them? Whatever she was she

seemed amenable, in a naive, detached fashion.

'Of course, we'd like to play with you,' Peri said slowly,

drawing a sudden puzzled glance from Kel. 'But we really

have to get to the edge of the wild woods. Do you know

where they are?'

'Certainly. Children are not allowed to play there'

'Of course, but we aren't children, are we? But the trouble

is the gardeners don't want us to get there, so we're having to

hide from them all the time. It's like a game, really.'

'I've never played games with the gardeners before,' Luci

admitted. ‘Children are not supposed to interfere with their

work.'

'Well think of this as an adult game. Making a game out of

something you've got to get done. A spoonful of sugar and all

that sort of thing.

'I beg your pardon?' Luci said.

'Never mind. Just believe that it's important that we get to

the wild woods without the gardeners catching us. As there

don't seem to be any, children around right now for you to

play with, maybe you can play this game with us?'

'It sounds a little like Hide-and-Seek and Catch-me-if-you-

can,' Luci said.

'Why not call it Dodge the Gardener?' Peri suggested.

Luci beamed at them, suddenly looking completely happy.

'Of course, I'd love to play. What are the rules?'

The rules were that Luci ran ahead of Peri and Kel acting as

a lookout. When the way was clear, she waved to Peri and

Kel, who ran forward to join her. Luci got a point for every

gardener she spotted first.

Luci played the game perfectly, running and skipping

before them, dutifully checking for gardeners at the next

junction, then making the signal. She didn't seem to get

bored and like Kel apparently had boundless reserves of

energy. Peri forced herself to keep up. They were moving

faster than they had the previous 'day' and Peri wanted to put

the gardens, and the gardeners, behind her as soon as

possible. While they had a cooperative guide and scout they

had to make the most of her. The gardeners Luci did

encounter seemed to pay her little attention, but perhaps they

were preoccupied with repairing the storm damage to their

displays. Once, Peri saw from her place of concealment a

gardener bob its head deferentially to Luci. Was it just Luci's

neat dress, or did it recognise her as one of the ruling elite?

Peri wondered. After all, they had originally mistaken Peri for

a Palace dweller until she gave herself away. Just how

discriminating were the robots?

Peri and Kel ate from their lochee reserve as they went.

Luci politely refused their offers of food, saying she was 'quite

full up, thank you' Peri didn't waste much mental effort

wondering at the girl's powers of endurance. She was simply

grateful Luci was staying with them and playing the 'game'

according to the rules. Kel seemed to have accepted Luci's

presence, though he avoided eye contact and didn't speak to

her directly. They passed close by a few more follies in the

style of pseudo-temples and forest lodges. Luci checked

inside them to see if she could find any children, but without

success. They continued on. The sun lowered in the sky

behind them, reddening further as it did so.

Then the gardens ended.

A jagged line of walls and hedges straggled away to either

side and vanished beyond the abrupt horizon. In front of them

were plots of freshly turned earth, half built walls, paths

leading nowhere and newly sown lawns in the process of

greening over.

'This place where gardeners make more gardens,' Kel

said.

Peri looked at Luci.

'Why do you people need so many gardens anyway?' she

asked tiredly. 'I mean you must have thousands of acres

covered in them already. Are you going for some sort of

record?'

Luci looked at her with polite incomprehension. 'There

must be gardens. They're pretty and they provide children

with places to play.'

She spoke as though stating a natural law.

Peri couldn't think of any rebuttal apart from the obvious,

and was too tired to argue the point further.

They started across the skeletal gardens, making better

time. There was less cover from them, but the whole swathe

of land seemed empty of gardeners. Perhaps they had all

been called away to help with the repairs, Peri thought. This

area, further from the focal point of the storm, appeared to be

undamaged, so presumably it had a lesser priority. As they

moved out into open ground, Peri felt a cool, steady breeze in

her face, and realised it must be the convection wind blowing

across from the dark side of Esselven. It was a pleasant relief

after the steady heat of the gardens.

The strip of newly laid-out plots was not very wide, and

soon they came to the natural landscape of Esselven. A low

rolling heath stretched before them, covered by scrubby

grass. A boggy, reed-fringed pool filled the bottom of a deeper

hollow. Dotted about the hillocks were straggling bushes.

'It all looks very untidy,' Luci declared. 'I would not care to

bring children here'

'Why not let them enjoy a bit of wilderness?' Peri said.

'Maybe camp out for the night under the... well, under the

darker sky.' ‘”Camping out"?' Luci asked.

It doesn't matter. At least we can see what's ahead of us

for once. Come on'

Peri felt it made a pleasant change to walk on unplanned

natural ground with all its imperfections, after the regimented

and perfectly ordered gardens. They climbed to the summit of

a low hill, seeing the landscape open out around them. As

they reached the top, Peri became aware of a low deep

droning noise -

A huge yellow earth mover was crawling along the shallow

valley beyond, the sawtooth blade of its hopper slicing

through the topsoil, leaving a ribbon of naked earth in its

wake.

Peri and Kel dropped flat. Luci remained standing, gazing

at the huge machine with polite interest. 'I do not see a

gardener in the vehicle,' she announced after a few moments'

study. 'I think it must be operating automatically.'

Peri breathed a sigh of relief, then frowned as she peered

between tussocks of grass at the metal monster. From their

vantage point they could see more of the huge machines

working in the distance, while nearby other vehicles lay silent.

Presumably they were manually controlled machines whose

operators were currently helping with the restoration of the

gardens.

'Are these guys going to cover the whole planet in

gardens?' Peri wondered. 'And do they have to grade

everything the same way?'

'Level ground is neater,' said Luci.

'But haven't they heard of proper landscaping, or don't

they have the imagination to cope with contours? Apart from

terracing around sunken gardens and the mound the folly's

built on, this whole place has been planed flat. Can't your

people tell them to try something different?'

'I'm sure everything is being done according to a sensible

plan,' Luci said.

When the way was clear they crossed the valley and

plunged into the cover of a stunted forest of trees. Gradually

the sounds of the machines faded behind them to be

replaced by bird cries and the sporadic chirping of insects.

The oblate disk of the blood red sun sat on the horizon,

tinting them in its ember glow and filling the way ahead with

purple shadows. Peri breathed a sigh of relief. They really

had escaped from the gardens.

She called a halt and turned to Luci.

'Look, thanks for getting us past the gardeners. I think we

can find our own way from here. You’d better be getting back

home'

'I'm quite all right, thank you,' Luci assured her.

'But won't you be missed?' Peri asked, wondering how old

Luci was. Her manner and looks were so at odds it was hard

to tell. For that matter she seemed just as fresh-faced and

spotless as she had done hours earlier. How did she manage

it?

Luci smiled at her expression of concern. 'I'm sure nobody

is missing me. I'd like to keep playing this game, please.'

'We're not really playing a game, you realise that. We just

had to get away from the gardeners. Now it's simply going to

be a straight march to Kel's home - I hope.'

Luci looked disappointed. 'Are you sure there will be no

more games?' she asked plaintively.

Peri found it hard to deny the girl. Perhaps this was more

fun than she'd had in a while. 'OK, come with us if you want

to. Will your people mind her coming with us, Kel?'

Kel said nervously, as though reciting a formal invitation:

'Thorn Tree home-hearth would be... be honoured by your

coining, Lady. And... would you hear the words of our Elders

with... with favour?'

Luci was clearly puzzled by the boy's words, which Peri

thought verged on the eloquent, but responded graciously as

though accepting an invitation to afternoon tea.

'I should be most delighted to come, Kel.'

They marched on.

At their backs the great hull of the sun began to fall below

the horizon, while ahead the tip of a gleaming spire rose over

the heathland. Kel pointed to it.

'That be one of Lords' towers made for the God-in-the-sun.

Beyond are wild woods.'

The spire continued to grow as more of its shaft became

visible, shading into deeper tints of red. Peri had to keep

reassessing its height. The curvature of the tiny world

confused her sense of distance. It was an hour's walk

between seeing the tower's summit and its base finally

coming into view. Suddenly they were cricking their necks

looking up at the huge structure.

The tower was a hollow latticework of silver metal girders,

tapering as it rose, with a cluster of aerial-like masts

extending at odd angles from about its pinnacle. It was as

though the Eiffel Tower had been stretched upward until it

was taller than the Empire State Building.

To the north and south Peri could just make out the tops of

similar towers. How far did the chain extend, she wondered,

and what function did such huge structures serve? Kel

seemed to associate them with a sun god. Perhaps the myth

concealed a factual explanation and they were part of some

solar power system. It would certainly be a convenient source

of energy on a world where the sun never set.

Beyond the tower a tangle of brushwood marked the edge

of the wild woods. Clumps of dark twisted trees gradually

merged into a solid wall that ran parallel to the line of the

towers. Peri had to admit that it didn't look inviting, but she

had Kel's assurance that they would receive a friendly

welcome. And almost anything would be preferable to falling

into the clutches of the gardeners again.

She and Kel had skirted the base of the tower and started

towards the woods when she realised Luci was hanging

back.

'What's the matter?' Peri called out.

Luci was looking confused. 'I'm terribly sorry but... I don't

seem to be able to go any further.'

Peri walked back to her and said reassuringly: know it

doesn't look any too cheerful, but Kel says we'll be okay.'

Luci was shaking her head. 'No, I can't. It's not allowed.'

'Well, okay. But you understand I've got to go on.'

'Of course. You're very brave and determined. Just like the

Doctor.'

Peri gaped at her. The Doctor! You've met the Doctor?'

'Yes. Now I must be going. I'm sorry. Goodbye...'

'No, wait! Do you know where the Doctor is?'

Luci turned away even as Peri made an instinctive grab for

her arm.

Then Luci was flitting lightly across the heath back towards

the gardens while Peri stood motionless, staring at her own

hand in disbelief. The hand that had passed right through

Luci's arm as though the girl had been no more substantial

than mist.

Chapter Fifteen

The robot bearing the identification 'Green-35' rolled

smoothly about the depot, weaving in between the ranks of

agricultural machines and circling around other robots as

they went about their duties. Returning to the repair bay it

paused by the shelves of spare parts, picked up a spare

wheel in its rubber-gloved hands, examined it for a moment,

returned it neatly to the stack, then trundled forward to come

to rest in front of Green-8.

'What is your designation?' Green-8 asked it.

The prompt answer was delivered in flat tones with

minimal inflection. 'General service unit Green-35, North-east

quadrant.'

'What is your present function?'

'This unit is temporarily assigned to non-specific general

appraisal duties in Red Sector.'

'Who is your immediate controller?'

'Quadrant coordinator Green-8.'

'What is your primary purpose?'

There was a pause, then Green-35 said. 'Er... to make

sure everything in the gardens is growing prettily...?'

The head and shoulder section of the robot lifted up and

hinged backwards to reveal the Doctor's upper torso rising

out of the hollow body shell. 'I don't think we covered that

response, Green-8.'

'The correct answer is: "To promote healthy growth and

maintain order in the fields and gardens."'

'Right, I'll try to remember. Otherwise, do you think I'll pass

as a robot?'

'I believe so. I can see nothing in your external

appearance or articulation to give you away. But you must

only respond to or act on specific orders. Do not show too

much initiative. It will not be expected of a Green Sector

robot'

'Why not?'

'Because work in the fields generally requires less

complex programming than planning and managing the

gardens. Red Sector robots develop expanded sub-routines

and larger data bases. Blue Sector robots, which interact

most often with the Lords, are more sophisticated with the

most highly developed vocal skills'

The Doctor frowned. ‘It sounds like there's a hierarchy

amongst robots on your world, even though you all have the

same basic programming and circuitry.'

'But these differences are based on fact, Doctor.'

'Are they? Then how do you account for your own

existence? You've come a long way for a "less complex"

machine'

'But my sentience is the result of accidental circumstances'

'Which could have happened to any robot on this planet.

Don't minimise the potential of your own kind, or read too

much significance into trivial differences of experience'

Green-8 paused a moment before saying: 'I believe you

are right, Doctor. When I have interfaced with Red Sector

robots, I have often been aware of a bias in their

programmes. Their commands were sometimes

unnecessarily basic, including many redundant components.

It was as though they thought... I might not be able to follow

common programming instructions!'

There was a rising tone in Green-8's words that almost

suggested anger. The Doctor said nothing, recognising this

was another stage in the development of the robot's growing

personality.

'I have words in my data banks to describe such

behaviour: snobbish, arrogant, elitist: Green-8 continued. 'But

I never... imagined that they could be applied to machines.

The Reds and Blues are no better than I am, even before I

became self-aware.'

'Of course they're not. I'm afraid your compatriots may

have picked up the idea from association with organic beings.

You see what you have been conditioned to think of as high-

born lords and lowly despised scavengers, and you are

unconsciously replicating those divisions amongst your own

kind'

'You are saying that our programmes have been corrupted

by these... emotionally based and illogical affectations? That

they are even influencing machines that are not self-aware?'

Green-8 paused, then added a disquieting afterthought:

'Will... I be affected also?'

'Not if you keep a sense of proportion,' the Doctor assured

him. 'Rank and status cannot simply be assumed, they have

to be earned through merit and then continually tested in any

just and rational social order - even amongst robots. You can

think for yourself so you must learn to trust your own

judgment. You should be able to recognise those sorts of

ideas for what they are and reject them.'

'I will try, Doctor. But how can our programmes have

become so corrupted?'

'That is one of the things I'd like to find out myself. It may

be another manifestation of whatever has gone wrong on

Esselven. Your programmes and operational functions should

be constantly monitored by a centralised control system of

some sort. Deviations from nominal programme parameters

should be automatically corrected'

'By inference, I myself am a deviation that should have

been corrected - eliminated'

'You exist now, Green-8, that's all that matters. And don't

feel guilt about your antecedence. The origin and evolution of

all organic life is a series of chance events balanced against

the operation of natural laws. From a few primitive protocells

floating in an ancient ocean that developed the ability to

reproduce themselves, all the way up to civilisation colonising

the stars, life is a battle against entropy and misfortune in an

uncaring universe. That is why sentient life, when it survives

despite the odds against it, is so precious. It's a story

spanning the aeons and the end is still uncertain. Just be

grateful you can play your own small part in the process while

possessing the ability to appreciate its magnificence.'

Green-8 was silent for a moment, then said: 'Your words

create in me a response to which I cannot yet put a name,

but I know it is important. I have placed this data in

permanent storage. When I have accumulated sufficient

knowledge I will use your words as the core of a programme

to guide my ethical functions.'

The Doctor smiled gravely. 'That is a unique compliment,

Green-8. I hope what I have said serves you well.'

'I am certain it will. Now, are you ready to begin our

journey to Red Sector?'

The Doctor patted the robot casing. 'I have food, water,

and fresh battery packs all stored away. Is it all right for you

to leave?'

'Essential repairs to storm damaged units have been

completed. What crops that can be salvaged are being taken

in. My subordinates can coordinate all routine procedures.'

'Will your absence be noticed?'

'I estimate not for several work periods. I have arranged

for any important communications to be relayed to me'

'How long will it take to reach the Palace?'

'If we are not delayed by unforeseen circumstances, we

should reach the edge of Blue Sector in approximately one

point three work periods. We cannot make the journey in less

time. The tube-way is still closed and none of the agricultural

vehicles will carry us significantly faster than we can travel on

our own wheels'

'And from there to the Palace?'

'I do not know. I have never been inside Blue Sector.'

'Are you still sure you want to come with me?'

'I am, Doctor. I want answers to so many questions. Why

does nothing change here? Why do we treat the scavengers

the way we do? I... I will talk to the Lords face to face. I will

learn the truth!'

Chapter Sixteen

The Stop Press arrowed through the hole in the shield.

Inside the control cabin Dynes braced himself as warning

lights flickered in wild patterns across the instrument board.

The hull shivered and he felt a sharp wrenching sensation as

a wave of unnameable nervous stimulation passed though

him. This was worse than the emergence from hyperspace.

Probably some trace shield energy that still extended across

the opening. The controls were going crazy now. What

combination of frequencies had the Esselvanians used? The

cabin lights cut then came back on again just as his temples

throbbed and his vision blurred. He felt as though he were

being stretched like a rubber band. What was happening?

Unable to hold back he yelled aloud in fear and pain and

anger. He'd edit this part from the recording... was the DAVE

still working with all this interference? Hell, maybe he'd lost a

great scene. How far had he gone? It seemed like an eternity.

Surely he should be through the shield - unless it reached

right down to the surface. But there was no going back now...

Then it was over.

The discontinuity was a shrinking hole behind him that

blurred and vanished as the ship plunged into a layer of

cloud. Instrument readings returned to normal. Groggily,

Dynes punched buttons, engaging the preset evasive

manoeuvring programme.

The Stop Press rolled to one side and began a switchback

spiralling descent. Displaced air keened and howled around

the hull. Dynes intended to make landfall at maximum speed.

The Esselvanians must realise they were under attack by

now and probably knew that their shield was failing. If their

defence batteries were on automatic standby, then they could

already be tracking him. In the assault on their capital a year

earlier Judd had lost several craft to lethally effective anti-

aircraft fire. Dynes did not intend to test whether similar

systems were installed here. The external monitors,

compensating for the wild gyrations of the ship, displayed

only twilit gloom below. Dynes cut in the enhancers and the

scene flared into brilliant clarity. He saw a dark tangle of

forest rolling away to the sharply curving horizon, backlit by

the diffuse sky glow of the invisible sun.

As the ship dropped he scanned frantically for the

spaceport that logically would lie close beneath the shield

discontinuity, all the while nerving himself for the alarm that

would tell him a missile was approaching or a ranging beam

had him locked in its sights.

He scanned and probed, he strained his eyes... then

frowned perplexedly. There was no port. No tracking system

was targeting his ship. The sky was empty both of missiles or

interceptors scrambled to shoot him down. Apart from a few

birds skimming the tree tops below there was no sign of life.

Barely a kilometre up Dynes disengaged the evasive

descent programme and swung the Stop Press round in a

wide arc under manual control. Surely there must be some

sign of habitation.

The imaging scanner beeped to get his attention as it

highlighted a cluster of regular forms half buried in the forest.

There was no power discharge or thermal activity associated

with the objects, but with a little imagination they might be the

remains of a concrete apron ringed by service buildings. The

sort of arrangement you might find at any small spaceport.

But they were almost hidden by forest. Was it an

abandoned spaceport returning to nature - or very good

camouflage?

Even though there seemed no immediate threat Dynes felt

dangerously exposed. Suppose the defenders had

anticipated a scout craft might come through the discontinuity

first and were lying in wait under cover so they could catch

the main attack force off-guard? Whatever the case, he had

to get ready to cover Judd's landing.

Dynes aimed the Stop Press at a tiny clearing in the forest

a kilometre or so from the port and dived. Dark sinuous trees

and leathery fungus-like growths seemed to rise up to meet

him. Skimming the treetops he cut in the landing thrusters at

the last moment and set down in a spray of decomposing leaf

litter.

Even if he had been seen, it would take any defenders a

little time to get to him and Judd's force would be landing by

then. Judd would detect the spaceport even sooner than he

had and he would soon test its true nature.

And Dynes had to be there to record what happened next.

He released half a dozen DAVEs through a small portal in

the hull and sent them flitting through the trees at top speed

towards the spaceport. He turned to the DAVE by his

shoulder and said in slightly hushed tones:

'I have just landed on the world believed to be the secret

retreat of the royal family of Esselven. There is no sign of any

active resistance at this moment. I have despatched camera

drones to what may be the remains of a spaceport, hidden in

forest on the night side of the planetoid. I expect Glavis

Judd's assault force to be following me through the

discontinuity in the planetary defence shield at any moment.

What action he takes then will depend on the reception he

receives. One thing is certain. If King Hathold is on this world,

Judd will stop at nothing to find him. The end of the final

chapter in the story of the fall of Esselven to the Protectorate

could be just hours... perhaps even only minutes, away. The

only question is: will Hathold be taken alive?'

The screens relaying the images from the flock of DAVEs

showed the dark trees opening out to form a wide clearing

with a level floor, silted over with earth, leaves and a matt of

interlaced vines.

Blocky shapes loomed about the perimeter of the clearing.

They were encrusted by fungi and bushy secondary growth

and half hidden by the encroaching forest, but their outlines

and proportions were unmistakable. Dynes sent a DAVE in

for a closer look at the nearest of them. Yes, there were

clearly windows peering out from under a curtain of vines.

'The drones have reached what looks like the spaceport,'

he continued. 'However it appears to be long abandoned and

overgrown. Of course this may be a ploy to disguise the

facility. If so, I don't think it will fool Glavis Judd'

His ship cameras were focused on the sky to catch Judd's

force as it appeared. The DAVEs fanned out around the

spaceport ready to record the landing itself and the

appearance of any resistance.

Five minutes passed.

What was keeping Judd, Dynes wondered? If only he

could receive signals through the shield he would know what

was happening up there. At the rate the discontinuity was

enlarging when he passed through it Judd should have been

able to send his ships through by now It was just as well

Dynes was not evading enemy fire and counting the seconds

until Judd appeared. On the other hand, with neither attacker

nor defender there was no story. Dynes was sitting in a

dismal forest with nothing to show his potential viewers but

old ruins.

Another ten minutes went by and Dynes became

increasingly concerned.

Where was Judd? He knew how determined he was to

capture Hathold. He would not take a second longer than

necessary getting down here. Therefore something serious

was delaying him.

Suppose the discontinuity had closed once more? It

wouldn't stop Judd. He'd simply order another attack on the

shield. Dynes would already have seen the shockwaves.

Perhaps Judd had decided that this wasn't Hathold's

hideaway after all? This spaceport didn't look as though it

had been used for centuries. Of course there might be a

functioning port somewhere else in the forest, or even round

on the dayside of the planetoid, but this was the logical place

to site such a facility. No. All the evidence pointed this way.

And how could Judd change his mind in a few minutes? And

even if he had, he'd still land some sort of force to check the

place out.

So where was he?

Dynes risked moving one DAVE off station to investigate

the ruins around the landing ground.

The small hill of tangled vegetation that must conceal a

hangar seemed impenetrable, and for the moment Dynes

passed it by. A broken window allowed him to direct the

DAVE into an adjoining building, which proved to be a

workshop. It was probably well equipped once, but now

contained nothing but corroding machinery. A building close

by seemed to have been a storage bunker while another was

the administration and landing control tower.

His cursory examination revealed nothing that could give a

clue as to who had operated the port. As there was still no

sign of Judd, he sent the DAVE on a wider circuit of the

facility. Halfway round he made a significant discovery.

There was a smaller clearing a little apart from the landing

ground but which might possibly have once been linked to it

by a hard roadway. He was about to pass it by, dismissing it

as a natural feature, when he realised that the mound in the

middle was surrounded by the remains of what had been a

substantial circular wall. He sent the DAVE in closer,

examining the mound from all angles. Twisted metal and

plastic protruded through the dirt and fungal growth. The

arrangement seemed tantalisingly familiar.

Then he knew what it was.

It was the remains of a large energy cannon emplacement

of the sort that might be used to protect a spaceport from air

attack. Just the kind of weapon, in fact, that he had expected

to fire on him after he came through the shield.

Except this gun obviously hadn't been fired in centuries.

But such a powerful, and valuable, weapon would never

have been left to rot, Dynes reasoned. If the port had been

relocated to a new site, surely the cannon would have been

taken as well? It suggested that, a long time ago, the port

had been abandoned in a hurry. But why?

Dynes never liked to reveal any great degree of personal

uncertainty to his viewers in case it reduced their confidence

in his reporting. But perhaps this was too big a mystery to

pass over. Besides, a genuine admission of puzzlement

might play well, now that the whole pace of his report had

changed. Even in its final edited form the unexpected delay

between his arrival and Judd's would have to be bridged.

Instead of lapping up the action, he needed to engage their

curiosity - and to cover himself in case the whole operation

turned out to be a blind alley.

Leaving the other cameras on automatic ready to pick up

Judd's force the moment it appeared, Dynes turned to the

DAVE recording his personal commentary.

'This small world seems determined to keep its secrets to

the last. Protector Judd's invasion force has been delayed for

some unknown reason. I can only guess what's happening up

there in orbit, on the other side of the force shield that

surrounds what we have assumed to be the last refuge of the

deposed royal family of Esselven.

'While set to record exclusive images of the landing, I've

made a remote survey of the deserted landing field that so far

seems to be the only sign, apart from the force shield, that

there is intelligent life down here. What I've found so far

suggests it was last used decades, perhaps centuries ago,

then abandoned in some haste to be reclaimed by nature.

But by whom or why? Does it have any connection at all with

Esselven? I'm going to move my ship over to the port itself

and try to find out.'

He lifted the Stop Press on its thrusters and made the brief

hop at little more than treetop height over to the port, putting

the ship down beside the hangar building. Leaving the ship's

identification transponder on, so that Judd would not mistake

him for the enemy, Dynes quickly pulled on a class 3

environment suit, continuing his commentary as he did so.

'The auto systems have already tested the atmosphere

and confirmed it's breathable, but I don't have time to wait for

the full biohazard test to run its course. There's a lot of fungal

growth out there and some of the spores might be

dangerous, so I'm taking no chances'

The class 3 suit was a tough plastic oversuit with an

integral transparent helmet that showed his full face and

allowed him to maintain good eye contact with the camera. It

also added a sense of drama to the report, reminding the

viewer that Dynes was exploring the potentially dangerous

unknown.

Dynes stepped out of the Stop Press's airlock followed by

two DAVEs. One was for close-ups and commentary direct to

camera, the other for wider establishing shots. He kept

talking as he stepped onto the ground and looked about him.

'It's rather like an overcast twilight,' he observed, setting

the scene, 'There's just enough light for me to see by without

using amplifying goggles'

The viewers would see everything clearly enough. The

cameras too could amplify the existing light to acceptable

levels for recording. He had a torch on his equipment belt to

help illuminate any fine detail he came across.

He kicked at the ground between the matted vines. Under

the dark earth was a paler and harder surface.

'Hard to believe now, but there is a concrete apron

underneath

these bushes and mould. How long ago was it

abandoned? That depends on the rate these plants and fungi

spread and grow. I'm going to make a circuit of the site and

see what I can find'

In fact there was little more to be seen than the DAVEs

had revealed. He came across the remains of another energy

cannon emplacement almost lost in the encroaching forest

and a mast lying on its side under a mass of creepers like a

fallen tree, which might once have supported a lighting array.

Halfway round he came to what could almost have been a

tunnel reamed through the forest, roofed over by arching

branches. It ran in an unnaturally straight line away from the

landing field. Examination of the ground showed it had also

once been paved over, though the concrete was now

cracking and buckling under the pressure of invading roots.

'This must have been a grand avenue once,' he said. 'How

long is it since anybody travelled along this way? Who were

they - and what lies at the far end? I hope to find out very

soon'

Cursory examination of the other buildings showed they

had all been open to the elements and plant life for some

time. Damp and decay had obliterated any details that might

have helped identify their users. There was little more to see

than his remote survey had revealed, and he was soon back

by the towering bulk of hangar.

'This is the only building that still looks intact. Maybe

there's something in there that will help clear up some of the

mystery about this place. I'm going to try to get inside and

see for myself.'

On a moderate beam setting, his laser knife sliced easily

through the tangle of vines that had grown over what looked

like a cavity set at the end of the side wall of the hanger. In a

few minutes he had pulled the clinging vegetation away to

reveal a recessed doorway. The lock and hinges had long

ago fused into useless immobility and he wasted no time in

trying to force them, but simply adjusted his knife and cut a

man-sized circle in the central panel of the door. Allowing the

edges a few moments to cool Dynes kicked the door and the

circular section fell inward with a bang. Cautiously he climbed

through into the hangar.

The interior was pitch black and he turned his torch up to

maximum intensity. The DAVEs put on their own lights.

A few vines and fungi mottled the floor, but it was nothing

like as bad as the other buildings. He swung his torch

upward...

A spaceship hull resting on a landing cradle almost filled

the cavernous hangar. It was filmed over with ancient grime

and stained where rain water had seeped through the roof,

but otherwise it was externally sound. A gantry stood against

the stern where some hull plates had been removed about

one of the hyper-drive blisters, as though the ship had been

undergoing repairs or maintenance.

'I seem to have made a find,' Dynes said. 'This ship looks

to be in pretty good condition, considering how long it must

have been sitting here. But who - ahh!'

He'd been playing his torch beam along the hull. Now it

settled on an emblem inscribed close to the prow. It was the

Esselvanian royal crest.

Inwardly he gave a thankful sigh of relief. This place was

connected with Esselven. Even if Hathold and his family were

no longer here, it would not be a complete dead end. He

continued his commentary in more measured tones.

'As you can see, this ship is of Esselvanian construction.

Certainly this world has been used by them in the past.

Whether it has been occupied more recently...'

He trailed off unprofessionally. There was something very

familiar about the lines of the ship. It certainly wasn't a

standard commercial model, but where had he seen it

before?

'Just a minute!' he exclaimed, gripped by a sudden and

quite genuine sense of revelation.

He tapped the keypad of his wrist comm, opening a link to

the Stop Press's data files. He called up the recordings of

Judd's assault on the Esselven capital and Hathold's escape.

There were some images of his ship in flight just before it

went into hyperspace. Yes, there it was, the same lines as

the ship before him There were no registration letters to

check, but then ships like that didn't display them. He looked

again at the image on the tiny screen freezing the ship at the

moment before it vanished from normal space, noting the

faint glow forming about one of its hyperdrive blisters warning

of its imminent burnout.

The same pod that was being repaired high above his

head...

The impossible implications struck him almost like a

physical blow. This was either the story of the century, or else

an incredible hoax. Either way, he had to say something.

Taking a deep breath he turned full face to the DAVE by his

shoulder.

'From what I can tell, this is the same ship Hathold and his

family escaped in from Esselven just over a year ago' He

paused for effect. 'So what is it doing inside an overgrown

hangar that looks like it hasn't been opened not for one, but

for hundreds of years!'

Chapter Seventeen

Oralissa asked her question at first meal, before her father

disappeared for a meeting with his councillors.

'Father, where do the mechanicals come from?'

Both her father and mother looked at her in surprise. Her

mother said: 'My dear, what a strange question,' then

returned her attention to her plate. Her father simply frowned

at her for a moment, then looked away.

It had been the same with Hetty earlier that morning.

Oralissa had asked about the mechanicals. She had also

appeared surprised, then she had simpered and said: 'Really,

My Lady, what a thing to ask' Then she had continued

helping her to dress as if Oralissa had not spoken,

suggesting by her silence that an answer was either above or

below her dignity.

Was there some secret concerning the mechanicals that

everybody but Oralissa knew? Perhaps it was shameful,

though she could not imagine how. But if nobody would tell

her, how would she ever learn? And now her parents were

behaving in the same manner. The very question itself

seemed to be beyond the bounds of proper consideration

and so it was ignored.

But this time Oralissa was determined to get an answer.

'But what about them,' she persisted. 'What are they?'

Her father spared her a brief impatient glance. 'They are

servants. It matters not where they come from as long as

they perform their duties correctly. That is all you need to

know, Daughter.'

For a moment the familiar urge to conform threatened to

over whelm her. But she had pored over her list of questions

too long the previous night to let the matter rest.

'But they must have come from somewhere,' Oralissa

continued. 'They are made things, are they not? Fashioned

as are suits of armour. Did the smith cast them in his forge?

And what force drives them from within? Is it a clockwork of

gears and springs? And I saw three different mechanicals in

the garden yesterday when I was walking with Prince

Benedek and I wondered how many forms they take'

The mention of Benedek's name seemed to catch her

father's attention at last.

'I trust you did not ask these foolish questions of the

Prince?' he demanded.

'I discovered that they had no mechanicals in Corthane

and that he had never seen such things before he came

here, yet he showed no interest in them, which I thought most

odd'

'Prince Benedek was only demonstrating the proper

sensibilities,' her father said. 'He is of noble birth and needs

not trouble himself with such mundanities any more than you'

'But I want to know. Is the answer so hard or shocking?

Why won't you tell me?'

'Hush, child,' her mother said with vague annoyance. 'It is

not your concern.'

'Then whose concern is it? These metal men move among

us and tend our land, yet we do not wonder where they come

from' She stared at them. 'You... do not know either. What

madness is this? Am I the only one in this land who can see -'

'Oralissa!' Her father's voice crossed the table like a

whiperack, shocking Oralissa into silence with its angry sting.

'Put this nonsense out of your head!' he continued. 'I will

hear no more. You are going riding with Duke Stephon today,

and you will not tire him with such meaningless chatter and

strange notions. When your talk should be of those things our

two lands value in common and you should be impressing

upon him your good nature and worth as a potential wife,

what will -he think if you are only concerned with

mechanicals? Now go-to your room and prepare yourself.'

'Yes, Father,' Oralissa said meekly.

Where Benedek had been shy and tongue-tied, Duke

Stephon was knowing and eloquent. Obviously he had fully

recovered from his brief loss of composure at their first

meeting.

As they rode at a gentle pace about the parks and

grounds he talked easily of inconsequential matters and

made them sound interesting. In turn he listened politely to

her own conversational sallies which, in accordance with her

father's command, contained nothing of a contentious nature.

Stephon was pleasant company, she had to concede. But

was he also a shade too calculating? She sensed there was

a mind of considerable power behind his cool dark eyes,

weighing every word before it passed his lips and

methodically sifting each response in turn. What would it be

like to join her life with his? Would Benedek's youthful

uncertainty not be preferable? They could grow to maturity

together and she could perhaps still mould him more to her

liking. With Stephon she would have to bend her will to his

from the first and accept whatever manner of life he chose,

except for such small indulgences she might win through

using her charms...

Oralissa came to herself with a start, realising Stephon

was looking at her with penetrating eyes.

'You are troubled by something, My Lady?' he asked. 'Are

you tired? Should we return to the Palace?'

Oralissa took a deep breath. 'I am not tired of riding, My

Lord, but only of this pretence we must both pursue. I would

wish to speak plainly, so we may both know how we stand'

He nodded, a curious light in his eyes. 'As you wish'

'While you and Benedek reside as our guests, I am

supposed to so enthral either one or both of you that you bid

for my hand. An understanding will be reached and I will be

handed over to the suitor who offers the most favourable

terms of alliance. That is the truth, plain and simple, is it not?'

Stephon nodded. 'It is, My Lady.'

'Then know that I will do this because my father wills it and

for the security of my country. But I cannot pretend it is to my

liking. I always wished that when I wed it would be for love

alone.' Her lips pursed. 'I still have a slight hope that I may

still find, if not a pure and honest romance of the heart, then

at least a tolerable accommodation. Since I have only two

choices of prospective husbands, either of whom will serve

the greater purpose of state, then I must make my choice

with care and hope I can persuade my father to follow my will

least in this' She looked sharply at Stephon. 'I trust I do not

offend by admitting to this level of calculation?'

'Not in the least, Lady,' Stephon said. 'You have a grasp of

the realities of life and statecraft beyond your years, and I

honour both your sense of duty and sensible desire to make

the best of your circumstances. Now, may I speak plainly in

response?'

'Of course.'

'Put simply, then: I would strive to make you happy. I would

do much to win another smile such as the one you granted

when I first beheld you. You think I am an older man, stern

and set in his ways, thinking only of his country and beyond

the reach of love. But grant that I am not beyond recognising

beauty. And may not such appreciation lead, in proper course

of time, to that higher state to which you also aspire? The

words I spoke on the Palace steps were true. Your mere

presence discommoded me, Oralissa, and I do not lose my

senses easily. You have a quality that only a mature man can

appreciate and do justice. That young puppy Benedek would

be wasted on you...' He chuckled. 'See how readily I slight

my rival! You have already stirred the fires of jealousy in me.

All I ask is that you grant me the same chance that you do

Benedek, and do not condemn me for my grey hairs. There, I

have opened my heart wider to you than any other man or

woman for many years. May I hope that my words have not

been wasted?'

Oralissa felt herself moved to say quickly: 'No, My Lord.

Your kind words have not been wasted. I value your

frankness and promise I will consider your pledges fairly

against those of Benedek's.' She added with a smile: 'And I

assure you I would not be discouraged by a few grey hairs...'

But even as she spoke she thought: he is a clever man.

Suppose his admission had been merely calculation? Had he

read her desires and fears and supplied the words which best

allayed and flattered them? If only she could believe. If she

could only think clearly. But there were other matters on her

mind that made clarity of thought impossible. Despite her

father's injunction, she could not forget her private

preoccupations.

Then an idea struck her.

'My Lord, in possible furtherance of a deeper

understanding between us, will you grant me an indulgence?'

Stephon looked at her curiously. 'You seek to test my

commitment, My Lady?'

'I wish to exchange thoughts on certain matters and seek

only for candour. I would ask certain questions which may

seem outlandish strange, and perhaps too trivial to be of any

account, but I would value a full and honest answer to them'

'If it pleases you, then ask what you will and I will reply as

truthfully as my knowledge permits'

Oralissa spoke carefully, wishing to approach the matter

that troubled her most deeply by degrees.

'The storm we suffered the other day... which felled that

tree yonder amongst many others. Have you ever

experienced the like before?'

If Stephon wondered at her choice of subject he did not

show it. He thought for a moment, then said: 'No, I believe

not'

'And did you see the light low in the south that preceded

the wind?'

'It was pointed out to me after the wind had passed. I

believe it faded over time. I did not notice it this morning'

'And did the sky not seem to you unusually... agitated after

the event?'

'I cannot say I noticed such a thing, but it would perhaps

not be unlikely after such a disturbance'

'But what do you believe caused this storm?'

Stephon shrugged. 'A confluence of winds, an unusually

intense thunderous outburst? What else causes storms?'

Oralissa felt he was being honest, but the event had

simply not seemed significant to him. If it was not for his

interest in her, she felt he would be dismissing her enquiry

out of hand. She said: 'What are sprites and do they take on

odd forms in Eridros as they do here? Sometimes ugly

animals bent on mischief, or young girls with strange designs'

'I have heard of sprites. I assume they are little known

creatures of nature, or perhaps the manifestation of malicious

spirits. There are tales in Eridros of strange things half seen

in the deeper woods'

'But have you ever seen one yourself?'

No - not to my knowledge, at least'

'Do you feel the urge to seek out their haunts?'

'Unless they do some harm, why should I?'

'But are you not... curious about their nature?'

He shrugged. 'In truth... no'

She sensed his attention wavering and said with a deep

breath: 'Do you know what mechanicals are, and have you

ever seen any before you came here?'

He looked at her most oddly. 'Mechanicals are servants'

'Yes, but have you seen them before? Do you have them

in Eridros?'

He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. 'I do

not see the sense in the question. They are what they are.

'But do you have the like in Eridros?'

'No.'

'What would you say if I told you that nobody I have asked

these same questions of, even my Father, can answer them.

None know what mechanicals are, how they function or who

made them.'

'I would say... that it is not a matter worth troubling about.

It cannot be important. Is that all you wish to know, Oralissa?'

She nodded despairingly. There was no point in asking

further. The paradox behind the question seemed beyond

even the cool mind of Duke Stephon. It had been the same

with Benedek, with her parents, with Hetty.

Was she the only one who cared?

Suddenly Oralissa felt very alone.

Chapter Eighteen

'She was not of the Lords - she was an evil spirit!' Kel said.

They were sitting in the no-man's-land between the line of

towers and the edge of the wild woods, trying to make sense

of what had just happened.

Peri didn't immediately contradict Kel's explanation of their

recently departed companion just in case he was right. She

looked at her hand again, recalling how it had passed right

through Luci's arm. And the girl - or at least, what looked like

a girl, hadn't even noticed what she'd done.

The clues had been there from the moment they met her,

she realised.

There was the undisturbed dust on the floor of the lantern

room which Luci said she visited regularly, the way she didn't

seem to get tired or need any food, even her name Well, it

had sounded unlikely, though in an odd way curiously

appropriate, like 'Boots' had for that animated teddy bear. But

there had obviously been something rather unreal about

Boots from the moment she had first seen him, whereas Luci,

though perhaps a little over-obsessed with playing games for

comfort, had otherwise seemed quite normal.

Perhaps they were dealing with ghosts?

No! Peri decided firmly. Luci had been too familiar with the

gardeners and had even recognised that the earthmover they

encountered had been running on automatic. Technical

knowledge didn't seem to mesh with a wandering spirit. No

supernatural explanations need apply, Peri told herself. We

are fully paid up members of the united science and

rationality society. There's a logical explanation for all this... I

just don't know what it is yet. If only the Doctor was here, she

thought wistfully. He'd have some super-smart answer up his

multicoloured sleeve.

The Doctor.

Luci had said she'd met him. There was no way she could

have known about him unless she had. Unfortunately the

knowledge didn't help much. If only she'd thought to ask Luci

before they'd left the gardens. She'd seemed to be quite calm

then. What was it about the towers that had spooked her?

She'd been quite happy to go into the woods until they

reached them.

Peri firmly pushed this additional mystery to the back of

her mind. She looked at Kel. 'Right, let's get going'

'We go to Thorn Tree home-hearth?'

'Yep. We'd better stick to the original plan. Then at least

we'll have a safe base to work from. Let the heat die down

and the gardeners get back to normal, then I can start

scouting the gardens properly for my friend the Doctor.

Maybe I can work out a way to leave signs for the Doctor that

the gardeners won't notice... Anyway, let's move'

They set off towards the wild woods. In minutes the scrub

and trees had closed about them. The last twinkle of crimson

sunlight blinked out. The only illumination now came from the

slowly rolling cloud bank which hung over the dark side of

Esselven. It still shone red-gold where the sun touched it,

radiating with a dull glow. It filled the forest floor with blurred

shadows.

Peri padded after Kel along a narrow but well-worn track

twisted between the dark gnarled trees hung with shallow

conical leaves facing upward, presumably to catch what light

from the sky they could. She saw as she passed that the

upper surfaces of the leaves were silvered, and a bud-like

growth rose from the centre of each. Did photosynthesis take

place inside them at the focus of each living mirror, and was-

the arrangement the result of natural selection or genetic

manipulation?

Between the trees were fungal growths of all shapes and

sizes, which somehow seemed more appropriate to the

gloomy conditions. A few of the fungi were faintly luminous,

adding an extra touch of unreality to the setting. As they

plodded on, the air got damper and cooler, and small pools

began to appear between the trees. A dull odour of decay

permeated the air.

The ground became softer and Peri noticed animal tracks

crossing the path. She wondered what else lived in this place

apart from the scavengers.

They came to a point where several meandering paths

met. Kel unhesitatingly chose a new route.

'You're sure this is the way to your home?' Peri asked, her

voice unconsciously dropping to a near whisper as she

surveyed the gloomy forest.

'Yes. There are many paths but Kel knows them all. I am

never lost. I lead you out of gardens, now I take you to Thorn

Tree. You follow me.'

His self-confidence seemed to be returning, Peri thought.

Perhaps it was being back on his home ground. The place

didn't inspire her, but she supposed it was a question of

whatever you were used to.

They had gone on a little over a mile further, by Peri's

reckoning, when Kel halted and turned his head from side to

side as though listening intently. A scowl of concentration

creased his youthful features.

'What is it?' Peri hissed.

'I hear something... We move faster now.'

He continued along the path at a fast trot, with Peri

following hard on his heels. She saw he had pulled the

secateurs from where they had been tucked into his

makeshift belt and was holding them like a knife. She

snatched a glance behind but there were only shadows and

twisted trees. She strained her ears but could hear nothing...

yes, she could!

A snuffling, a patter of many feet on the soft ground.

'What is it?' she gasped.

'Dogs! We must find tall tree... there!'

It was not truly a tall tree but at least it was higher than the

others around them. Kel scrambled up the twisted branches

as nimbly as a monkey. Driven by a growing sense of dread,

Peri followed slightly less nimbly but no less rapidly. The tree

was easy enough to climb but it was not sturdy enough to

carry them very far from the ground. When the branches

started to bend under them they had to cease their ascent,

clinging tightly to the slender trunk.

The snuffling patter was getting closer...

In desperation, Peri looked about for some sort of weapon,

saw a dead branch within her reach, pulled on it with all her

strength and snapped off a length as long as her arm,

forming a makeshift club.

Half a dozen low dark shapes burst from the shadows and

circled the base of their sanctuary tree. Peri saw the flash of

bared fangs and the glint of malevolent amber eyes. They

were large dogs of some species she could not recognise.

Perhaps they were escaped pets that had turned feral.

Whatever their origins they were hungry now.

With yaps and snarls the dogs sprang, hooking their

forelegs over the lower branches and trying to haul

themselves up after Kel and Peri, who stamped and kicked at

their scrabbling paws. Kel slashed downwards with the

secateurs, cutting a dog across its snout so that dropped

back to the ground with a yelp. Peri felt teeth graze her ankle

and flailed desperately about with her club.

Now she knew why the wild woods were so named. She

should have stayed back in the gardens.

The dogs would not give up! They were climbing onto the

lower branches after them. How were they keeping their grip?

Kel and Peri pulled themselves up higher, clinging to the ever

more spindly trunk, kicking and stabbing at their pursuers.

The tree swayed alarmingly under its shifting burden, there

was a loud crack, and the top half, with Peri and Kel clinging

to it, broke clean off and plunged to the ground in a shower of

leaves and twigs.

Before they could scramble clear of the tangle the dogs

were on them again. Kel grasped one by the throat and

plunged the secateurs again and again into its side even as

Peri stood back to back with him swinging her club to hold

the others off. But she knew they could not win. There were

too many of them. This was the end -

With a squeal of pain, a dog arched its back in a horrible

contortion, its legs clawing at the empty air.

There was an arrow buried in its ribs.

A spear flew out of the shadows and struck a second dog

in the shoulder.

With squeals and yelps the surviving members of the pack

scattered and vanished amongst the trees as a party of

raggedly dressed men carrying bows and spears ran past

Peri and Kel in triumphant pursuit.

Peri blinked at the newcomers foolishly for a moment, then

dropped her club and sank to her knees. The cavalry, be it

ever so motley, had arrived in the proverbial nick of time.

Suddenly feeling very weak, she hugged her arms to her

sides and closed her eyes, trying to stop the spasm of

uncontrollable trembling from overwhelming her.

When she had recovered herself a little, she saw that the

hunters who had chased the dogs away were returning,

carrying between them two carcasses. Meanwhile, other men

were clapping Kel on the back. He was looking fiercely proud,

still clutching his secateurs. The front of his patchwork

clothing was slicked red with the blood of the dog that lay at

his feet.

Gradually the men began to take notice of Peri, eyeing her

with the same frank curiosity that Kel had displayed the first

time they had met. Kel performed the rudimentary

introductions.

'She is called Peri. She is from a far part of the gardens.

She escape from gardeners with me. Now she seeks shelter

under Thorn Tree roof.'

One of the older men stepped over to Peri and looked her

up and down closely, a suspicious glint in his eye. The

remains of her dress, filthy as it was by now, still clearly

marked her as something other than a regular scavenger.

Peri held out her hand to him. 'Hallo, I'm Peri Brown. I was

just hoping that you could put me up for a few days...'

Her gesture was ignored.

'She does not look dangerous,' he pronounced to the

others. 'We talk of her later. Now we have meat. Home!'

Shouldering their trophies, the men began to file away

along a narrow path. Kel, looking exultant at the new respect

he had received, was helping to carry the carcass of the dog

he had killed. Almost absently he gestured to Peri that she

should follow him

Peri shrugged and trudged after the hunters. It wasn't

exactly a fulsome welcome, she conceded, but she certainly

felt safer with an escort.

It took them almost an hour to reach Thorn Tree, Kel's 'home-

hearth'. The land became steadily wetter, and at one point

they skirted the edge of a fair-sized lake fringed with reeds.

As they went the forest trees also became sparser but taller,

as though competing for what light there was from the sullen,

violet-tinted sky. The ground between their towering trunks

was filled with many more of the grotesquely shaped fungal

growths, some reaching tremendous size. Whether it was the

dimming sky or her eyes adjusting to the conditions, but Peri

noticed more luminescent varieties, some of which generated

appreciable quantities of light in different delicate hues. The

effect might almost have been fairytale, had it not been for

the all too pervasive presence of the ragged hunters with

their bloody prizes.

Finally Peri saw a ditch and rough timber fence ahead of

them, then a gateway of crossed and tied branches. The gate

guards greeted the returning hunting party warmly, breaking

out into cheers when they saw Kel.

The stockade enclosed a settlement of twenty-five or thirty

huts of various sizes, all thatched with reeds. At first Peri

thought they had paper lanterns hanging about their eves,

then she realised they were baskets holding more of the

luminous fungi. A few small children, grimy and naked, ran

about playing. Some two dozen women were visible, all hard

at work cooking or mending. A few of them left their tasks to

run forward and greet particular hunters in the returning party.

One young woman shouted loudly in delight as she raced

over to Kel and hugged him.

Apart from a few curious glances, Peri felt largely ignored

once again.

A stooping, white-bearded old man had been called from

his but by one of the hunters. He spoke for several minutes

with Kel, who replied with every sign of respect. Finally the

man signalled Peri over.

As she came up Kel said: 'This Greld. He be the Chansor

of Thorn Tree.'

'Honoured to meet you, Chansor,' Peri said, hoping a show

of politeness would ingratiate her. She would have to rely on

their charity for a few days at least.

The Chansor looked her over slightly short-sightedly. 'You

are not from Palace, girl?'

'No, and my name is Peri Brown'

'You are from beyond the gardens?'

Peri sighed. 'A long way beyond. I tried to explain to Kel,

but it's a long story. Maybe I could tell you over drink and

something to eat? It's been a long day, you know.'

The Chansor nodded. 'Bring food,' he ordered, and she

will talk.'

Peri, Greld and two men she assumed were his advisors, or

perhaps bodyguards, sat on a patchwork of animal skins laid

over scattered rushes inside Greld's hut. There was no

proper furniture and all Greld's possessions, together with

several hunting trophies, appeared to be hung from the walls.

The pervasive damp brought out odours which Peri tried not

to identify She supposed this counted as a high-class

dwelling in Thorn Tree. Silent, nameless women brought in

food and drink. The unidentified food did not taste particularly

palatable, but Peri forced it down while trying to look as

though she was enjoying it. She began to understand why

they travelled so far to the gardens to scavenge fresh

produce.

Peri told her story once again, but she could see that she

was facing a barrier of almost total incomprehension. They

were like isolated tribes she had heard about living in forest

valleys in Borneo or New Guinea who, even by the mid-

twentieth century, had never seen a white man. Their valley

was their whole world and somebody from outside was like a

visitor from another planet. With the scavengers the situation

was even more extreme as they had trouble even believing

that other worlds existed. She thought that the only reason

she was not dismissed out of hand was that they didn't know

what else to make of her. It was only when she started talking

about the 'Lords' of Esselven that she thought they genuinely

began to take an interest in what she was saying.

'Once I find my friend the Doctor and tell him how you've

been treated, I'm sure he'll go to see these Lords of yours

and tell them they'd better change their ways,' she assured

them.

Chansor Greld shook his head in weary resignation.

'We were cast out long ago. The Lords do not hear our

words. Only God can call us back to sun. We wait, we hope'

Peri didn't want to say outright that she thought their sun

god was just a myth, but she hated to see people so resigned

to their fate. They had to be stirred into taking action.

'If you really believe this is your fate and you don't want to

buck the system, why do you go round to the day side at all?

And why steal from the gardens? Aren't you afraid your god

will get angry?'

'Not the same. Things we need we take from gardeners.

They are only servants of Lords. The sun is not their god'

Peri suspected the scavengers felt a mixture of awe, fear

and resentment towards the Lords, whose ancestors had

exiled them. Perhaps pilfering a little from the gardens

allowed them to strike back in an oblique way without risking

the wrath of their god. But it wasn't a solution.

'You can't just give up,' she persisted. 'Maybe your god

expects you to make the first move before he'll have you

back. Prove you're worthy by standing up to the Lords. You

can't go on living like...' she paused, realising the scavengers

might not realise how bad their living conditions really were.

'Anyway, I think the way the Lords are treating you is

disgusting,' she added.

One of the younger village men said: 'You speak boldly.

You say talk to Lords. But what do you know? You not a man,

not an elder. Why will Palace Lords listen to you, girl?'

Peri swallowed her pride and replied: 'But my friend is a

man and the most elder elder you'll ever meet. He'll talk

some sense into them. But he's back in the gardens

somewhere and may not even know you exist. If I can find

him then there'll be some changes round here, I promise' She

looked at their uncertain faces. 'Well, isn't it worth at least

trying? You can't be exiled any further from the sun. What

have you got to lose?'

She knew she hadn't convinced them. A few words from

her weren't going to magically overturn perhaps hundreds of

years of ingrained beliefs. But Greld did look thoughtful.

'These be big ideas. I shall think more. We talk again after

sleeping. Now, you want stay a time under Thorn Tree roof,

yes?'

'Yes, please, until I can find the Doctor.'

'You share Thorn Tree fire, you must be part of Thorn Tree'

'You mean pitch in to help? Sure, I'll do my bit...'

'You are part or not part. Outside or in. Cannot stay if not

one of home-hearth'

The frightening possibility of being put out into the forest

alone spurred Peri to say quickly: 'Sure, count me in. I'll be

one of the Thorn Tree home-hearth.'

Greld nodded gravely. 'Good. You wear b'long to show

others'

'Pardon me?'

Greld gestured and one of the younger men got up, took

something from a skin pouch hanging on the wall and handed

it to Greld. It was a leather thong from which hung a tassel of

three clay beads; one red, one green and one black.

'This Thorn Tree b'long,' Greld said. 'A girl wear b'long

after Gathering when she comes from Melek's House or

Stoneford as mate of Thorn Tree man. You stay under Thorn

Tree roof, eat Thorn tree food, you Thorn Tree girl. Thorn

Tree your home-hearth now'

'Oh, a belong. Belonging,' Peri said. It was a bit like a

resident's permit or a green card, she supposed.

Greld tied it with an elaborate knot onto her right upper

arm. 'Now you one of Thorn Tree,' he said. He clapped his

hands and one of the women who had waited on them came

in. 'She will show you place to sleep'

The woman lead Peri outside.

She found Kel relating a colourful account of their escape

from

the gardeners. Among the admirers hanging on his every

word, Peri noted the young woman who had greeted him

earlier and a boy of his own age with what looked like a club

foot. Listening to Kel it now seemed that the entire plan had

been his from the start, and she had been dragged along

more or less as an afterthought. Peri allowed the young man

to boast on unchallenged, feeling too tired to argue over

details. The important people to influence were Greld and the

other Thorn Tree leaders.

Seeing her, Kel broke off from his tall tales. 'I tell them

about escape from gardens. It is a story that will be much told

about home-hearth'

'So I heard. I must listen to it all again because I seemed

to have missed quite a lot of it the first time round'

Kel scowled: 'He is Raz and she Nerla. They think it is

great story.'

Raz smiled uncertainly at Peri while Nerla glowered and

edged slightly closer to Kel.

'Hi there,' Peri said. 'I agree it's a great story as well'

Kel noticed the token tied about her arm. 'You have b’long.

You are one of Thorn Tree. That is good. I shall be made

Thorn Tree hunter. You can watch for me when I return from

the hunt'

Nerla's face darkened. Peri said quickly: 'I don't think I'm

going to be around here that long. I'm just passing through,

remember. And right now I'm going to try to get some sleep.'

The hut was no better than Peri had expected and the animal

skin thrown over a pile of rushes made an inadequate bed.

Nevertheless she felt sleep overtaking her within minutes of

lying down.

As she drifted off she decided that her stay in Thorn Tree

would be as brief as possible. She was grateful to them for

taking her in, but life in the wild woods was more dangerous

and less comfortable than she had imagined. Had she known

before she agreed to go with Kel that she could hide out

relatively easily in follies like that pseudo-temple, she might

never have left the gardens. Thinking about it she was

confident she could steal enough food to support herself and

she would be better placed to search for the Doctor.

But she needed these wild woodsmen for a few more days

until things returned to normal in the gardens and any hunt

for Kel and herself had been scaled down. Meanwhile she'd

keep working on Greld and convince him they needed to help

her find the Doctor. Then things would start happening.

Peri awoke stiff but rested.

A chatter of exited voices drew her outside where a

ceremony was about to take place in the open patch of

beaten earth that evidently served as Thorn Tree's central

square. Joining the back of the crowd of onlookers, she saw

that Kel was the focus of attention. Greld was officiating.

"This be Kel of Thorn Tree,' the Chansor announced. 'He

has fought brave and well, he has escaped the gardeners. I

say he is scavenger boy no longer. From this time on he is a

man. He shall walk the woods strong and proud. He shall be

called a hunter!'

The crowd cheered and stamped their feet. Peri clapped

politely.

With solemn deliberation, Chansor Greld presented Kel

first with a skin cloak, then a necklace hung with animal teeth

and finally a bone-tipped spear. Adorned as a hunter, Kel

held the spear over his head and shook it exultantly, bringing

forth another cheer from the crowd. Kel grinned at the

response and then said something softly to Greld, to which

the older man nodded in reply.

When they had quietened down, Kel said, with an excited

tremor in his voice: 'Now I am a hunter. I have the right of a

hunter to claim girl of Thorn Tree home-hearth not promised

to another...' Nerla looked at him expectantly, her eyes wide.

Kel grinned, but not at her. 'I claim Peri Brown!'

The crowd gasped. Nerla looked stunned, then buried her

face in her hands and ran off. All eyes turned to Peri.

'Oh... ter-rific!: said Peri through gritted teeth.

Chapter Nineteen

Several of the trees lining the avenue had been toppled by

the storm wind and now lay across the road in tangles of

broken branches, their torn roots pointing forlornly to the sky.

A team of scavengers had been deployed to clear the

remains away. Two gardeners, Red-87 and Red-115, were

using power saws to cut the trees up into manageable

sections, which the slave workers were then loading onto low,

automated trailers to be taken away for recycling.

Two robots with Green Sector identification plates rolled

up the avenue towards the working party. One robot circled

round the slaves, appearing to take a close interest in their

activities, while the other stopped beside the Red Sector

robots.

I am Coordinator Green-8,' it announced. 'I am surveying

the damaged areas of Red Sector to assess the need for

additional units from Green Sector to assist in reconstruction

work'

'We do not require assistance from Green Sector,' Red-87

said.

'Is your work progressing satisfactorily?' Green-8

persisted. Are two units sufficient to monitor the workers

against escape?'

'In the current emergency resources are limited.

Monitoring has been reduced to minimum levels. This group

has exhibited no tendency to independent action. They obey

orders satisfactorily'

'Why has clearing this avenue been given priority over

other repairs?' Green-8 asked.

'All avenues must be cleared to facilitate the transportation

of waste material for recycling,' Red-87 said.

‘I understand,' said Green-8.

The other robot, Green-35, rolled up to them. 'Several of

the older workers appear close to exhaustion,' it said. 'They

should be rested.'

'Liquid supplement is provided at the specified times,' Red-

87 said. They will continue until the work period is ended'

'It is not... efficient that the humans should be worked

beyond their natural capacity' Green-35 said. 'Some of them

are elderly... at the end of their ability to perform strenuous

physical functions. It is not... logical that they should be

forced to continue working'

'They are scavengers, despoilers of the gardens,' Red-87

said. 'They must repair the damage they have done. They will

work until they cease to function. Then they are recycled'

'We have the information we require,' Green-8 said

quickly. 'We shall continue our survey at the next work site'

The two green robots continued on up the avenue.

The Doctor raged over their short-range radio link. 'They're

literally working those people to death, then their remains will

be recycled with the rest of the garden waste!'

'I did not know any details of scavenger working

conditions, Doctor,' Green-8 said. 'I am sorry this encounter

has caused you any distress'

'"Distress" is a very mild word to express my feelings,

Green-8. I'm angry. No creatures, sentient or not, should be

worked like that. Whatever damage the scavengers may

have done to the gardens can never justify such treatment in

return!'

'Should I be feeling... "angry" as well?' Green-8 asked

hesitantly. 'I can appreciate there is an inconsistency here,

and that it may not be appropriate to treat scavengers in this

way, but I cannot feel an emotional response.'

The heat of the Doctor's initial outburst cooled slightly, but

his reply still held a brittle edge.

'Don't worry, Green-8. You haven't experienced physical

discomfort, or had much practice at empathising in these

kinds of moral dilemmas. What you must do is relate their

situation to something you do understand - your own desire

for freedom from your programmed tasks and the need to

find a fresh challenge, for instance. Those are the same

rights that those poor wretches back there are being denied'

There was a pause, then the Doctor said. ‘It's no good. I can't

leave them there like that. I'm going to set them free'

'But the plan was to go directly to the Palace,' Green-8

said. 'If you persuade the Lords that the scavengers are

being unfairly treated, then they will be freed'

'Yes, but how many of those scavengers back there might

die before that? Some of them looked as though they might

not last the day.'

This action could delay or jeopardise your plans, including

the search for your friend. It is not logical. Doctor.'

'No, but sometimes doing the right thing isn't logical. Don't

worry if that doesn't make sense. Machines are usually more

logical than biological entities'

'But I have just witnessed a machine give an illogical

response,' Green-8 said. 'Red-87 denied they needed

additional help when evidently their task could be completed

more efficiently with additional robotic units. It is almost as

though they were... too proud to accept help. Is that not

illogical?'

'It is for a machine. I don't suppose it was showing early

signs of independent thought like yourself?'

'No. I would recognise another like myself in moments.

Red-87's programme has been corrupted. Red-115 did not

correct its statement, so it must have the same fault. This

could have occurred through insufficient monitoring of

accumulated replication errors. The defect may even have

been incorporated into the master programme of the central

processing unit. How many robots have been similarly

affected?'

'Something else for the Lords to put right,' the Doctor said.

'But right now, illogical or not, I'm going to release those

slaves... somehow. You can stay here if you want, but I have

a couple of robots to disable'

'Do not repeat Red-87's error, Doctor. Accept my help'

'I don't want to lead you down the path of irrationality as

well, Green-8'

'I choose to think of this as an experiment in applied

morality. If I am ever to grow beyond my programming, then I

must experience the practical consequences of such actions.

Besides, if other robots can act illogically, why cannot I do the

same? Is that not also a privilege of freedom?'

'It is indeed, Green-8. Come on...'

They turned off the avenue and through a garden gateway.

A few minutes later, Red-115's attention was attracted by the

figure of a human standing under a hedge arch that opened

into a garden flanking the avenue. Red-115 could see that all

the workers under its command were present and noted that

this figure appeared to be without the hobble strap all captive

scavengers normally wore. There was only one conclusion to

be drawn.

'A wild scavenger!' Red-115 said to Red-87. 'I will

apprehend it'

As soon as Red-115 started forward the figure appeared to

flinch in alarm at being seen, then run quickly to the right and

vanish from sight. Red-115 increased its speed to maximum,

raced through the archway and swung right after him...

From somewhere on the other side of the hedge Red-87

heard a thud followed by a metallic rattle. It scanned its

surrounding, but could see no obvious source of the noise.

Neither could it see its companion.

'Red-115, report,' it said, both through its voicebox and

over the short range circuit. 'Red-115, report your position...

Red-115, have you apprehended the scavenger?'

There was no reply from Red-115. Instead the scavenger

appeared again at the opening in the hedge.

'He couldn't catch me, can you do any better?' he taunted.

Red-87 immediately started forward, arms extended to

grasp its prey. It calculated the chances of any of the slave

workers attempting to escape for the short period it would

take to capture the man were minimal, and even if any did

they could not get far hobbled as they were. As Red-87 made

for the gap in the hedge it wondered why Red-115 had failed

to capture the scavenger. Perhaps Red-115 was functioning

inefficiently. That would have to be reported...

Red-87 rounded the corner into the garden and saw its

quarry standing at the end of a hedge-lined pathway. Red-87

started down the path towards the man. Its peripheral vision

detected a blur of movement in the shadows just too late -

There was a swish, a clang and a metallic rattle. Red-87's

head bounced to the ground trailing a torn bundle of wires

from its neck ring. As its glowing eyes faded into darkness its

headless body swerved wildly, crashed into the hedge and

toppled over onto its side, coming to rest close by the

similarly decapitated and inert form of Red-115.

Green-8 rolled out of the shadows. One of his hands had

been replaced with a heavy crowbar from its toolkit. He

looked down at the still forms.

'I have never deliberately damaged garden machinery

before,' he said slowly. 'It was a strange sensation. To act

contrary to my basic programming seems wrong, yet it also

imparts a feeling of... power?'

'You've struck a blow against slavery,' the Doctor said. 'It

was a necessary act, not wanton vandalism' He prodded the

motionless robots with the toe of his shoe. 'You said they

were not self-aware, so no real harm has been done'

'They are not, they are simply responding to their

programmes and synthesising personality traits and

compatible vocal responses. If they are repaired properly

their function and memory will be unimpaired'

'Which is more than can be said for the slaves that have

suffered in their care,' the Doctor said bitterly. He took a set

of shears from a clip on Red-87's side. 'I'm going to free

those workers. You'd better stay out of sight. We don't want

their escape to be connected with any Green Sector robots,

and I don't think the scavengers are ready to accept a friendly

gardener just yet'

'But perhaps one day they will, Doctor.'

'Yes - one day soon, I hope'

The slaves were still shifting the sawn baulks of wood as

they had been ordered by their late masters. As they saw the

Doctor striding purposefully towards them carrying a pair of

shears they faltered. Some tried to shuffle away.

'It's all right,' he called out. 'The gardeners won't be

troubling you any more. I'm here to free you'

Dirty, worn faces gazed back at him blankly, as though

they did not accept his words for what they were. He knelt

down before a lined old man with thinning grey hair and cut

the strap that hobbled his ankles. The man looked in disbelief

as the strap fell away. Trembling, he took an experimental

step, then another longer stride. He looked at the Doctor.

'Who... are you?' he asked.

'A friend,' said the Doctor. One of the scavengers began to

laugh hysterically, others cried.

As he cut their bonds he quizzed them about Peri.

'Have you seen a young woman about this high, with

shoulder length dark hair? Talks rather too loudly in a strange

accent. Her clothes might look unusual? No?'

None of them had seen her, or would admit to knowing

where the gardeners might have taken her. Their situation

had left them with little time or inclination to care for the fate

of strangers.

When they were all free the Doctor said: 'Find somewhere

you can hide from the gardeners or try to get home. You

should be able to find food as you go. You and you - help

those old men'

They milled about, as though afraid to take the first step to

freedom. Then a younger woman took the lead and slowly

the others followed after her.

She looked back at the Doctor. 'Thank you,' she said.

'I don't know how long they'll stay free, but at least they've got

a chance,' the Doctor said to Green-8 as he climbed back

into his robot disguise a few minutes later.

'Do I detect increased determination in your manner,

Doctor?'

'You do. After seeing the state to which those people have

been reduced, nothing is going to stop me finding whoever is

responsible'

'The Lords. Who else can it be?'

'Perhaps. One way or another, this is going to end here

and now Are you willing to help me turn the social order of

your world upside down, Green-8?'

'I am, Doctor. In fact... I believe I am looking forward to it'

They continued northwards along the great avenue, moving

at the highest speed the wheel motors of the robot bodies

could maintain in continuous use. It was the equivalent of a

steady jog, the Doctor estimated. They saw no more slave

workers and only encountered three other Red Sector robots,

all of whom accepted Green-8's explanation of their presence

with the same slightly dismissive air.

They passed a place where two ends of what might have

been an ornamental bridge had been set on either side of the

avenue, but with no middle section to connect them. From

the weathering visible on the two sections it was obviously

not a project in the process of construction.

'An unfinished bridge placed where none was needed,' the

Doctor observed. 'This is in keeping with ha-ha walls that

serve no purpose except to trap unwary pedestrians'

'The programme corruption has spread further than I

imagined,' Green-8 said. 'How long has the error gone

unchecked?'

'Hopefully we'll find out,' the Doctor replied.

The red globe of the sun was hovering over the horizon when

Green-8 finally slowed the pace of their travel. The walls and

hedges of the gardens, which had lined the avenue along its

entire length, now turned aside in sharp right angles. The

double rank of the processional trees ended at a broad

crossroads. On the far side of the swathe of gravel was a

stone-pillared gateway flanked by twin gatehouses. Figures

stood alertly before each pillar in the attitude of guards. The

gates were set in a high wall that extended away east and

west until it curved out of sight. The tops of trees could be

seen at some distance beyond the gateway.

'This is the edge of Blue Sector,' Green-8 announced. 'In

there is the Palace.'

'You almost sound nervous, Green-8,' the Doctor said.

'Perhaps that is as good a description of the current

activity of my central processor as any. I am aware that I am

outside my assigned sector without authority, and that I will

soon encounter the Lords in person. Yet I know I must

continue. If I cannot speak, you must do so for me, Doctor.

My programmed inhibitions may be too strong'

'You'll do fine,' the Doctor assured him. 'Just get us inside.

Then we can find whoever's in authority and make them

listen to us.'

'I shall try, Doctor.'

But before they could cross the road a vehicle appeared

coming along the western road. It was an ornate closed

carriage drawn by a team of four matching bay horses all

decked out in highly polished harness. The gate guards let it

through without hindrance and even gave salutes as it

passed.

More horse-drawn vehicles,' the Doctor mused.

'Is there something wrong in that?' Green-8 asked. 'I have

data on my files that says Lords often ride quadrupeds or

sometimes travel in horse-drawn carriages for ceremonial

purposes. I understood such means of transport were

symbols of leisure.'

'That's quite true, but I would have expected to have seen

at least one person riding in a powered vehicle by now.

Maybe we'll find some on the other side of that wall. Come

on'

As they approached the gate they saw that the guards

were dressed in high boots and hose, with gleaming metal

breastplates and helmets crowned with plumes. Swords hung

from their belts and they each carried pike-like weapons

about as tall as themselves, resting the butts on the ground.

The guards were talking in casual tones as the Doctor and

Green-8 approached.

...the Baron of Delminster and his lady, that were'

The Baron maybe, but 'twere never his wife I saw at his

side.'

'Whoso, then?'

'A slim little thing all bowed and beribboned. A very lively

armful she would make, I've no doubt - or maybe lapfull

would be more the way of it,' he added with a knowing wink.

'And he'd bring her to such a banquet all bold and

brazen?'

'His dalliances are no secret amongst the Lords and

Ladies. Have you not heard the tales of what the Baroness

does when -'

'Excuse us... sirs,' Green-8 interrupted diffidently. 'We are

surveying the damage done by the storm. May we enter to...'

One of the guards focused on them with an expression of

mild surprise, as though noticing them for the first time. 'Eh?

Be you more servants for the banquet?'

'That is correct,' the Doctor said quickly.

'Pass within...' he waved his hand vaguely.

The Doctor and Green-8 rolled through the open gates.

Behind them the two guards continued their dissection of the

scandalous behaviour of the privileged classes.

'I had expected something... more significant,' Green-8

said, as they continued along a broad gravel road that curved

through gently undulating parkland, as artfully contoured as

the gardens were level. 'But we are inside the Blue Sector.

The home of the Lords of Esselven.'

'Who seem to be guarded by very primitively attired

soldiers'

'Surely their costume is only intended for show,' Green-8

said. 'I understand that humans sometimes dress for

superficial effect, rather than practical necessity.'

'Yes, but even the guards at Buckingham Palace carry

modern weapons'

'I do not know of this place'

'Never mind. I expected to see signs of higher technology.

So far you and your kind are the most technically

sophisticated devices in evidence on this planet... ahh, what

have we here?'

A group of three humanoid robots in armoured bodyshells

were coming towards them at a fast trot, their photoscanner

eyes were flicking continuously left and right as though on

alert. They carried multifunction rifles linked to power

backpacks.

'Fighting machines,' the Doctor said. 'It might be wise not

to do anything to alarm them'

'I have no intention of alarming anybody,' Green-8 assured

him.

The three sinister robots flicked their gaze across the

Doctor and Green-8 for a few seconds, then, apparently

satisfied that they posed no threat, continued on with their

patrol.

'I have never seen any robots of that type before,' Green-8

observed. 'What would they have done if they had detected

your disguise?'

'Hopefully we will never find out,' the Doctor said. 'Were

they looking for something in particular or simply on a routine

patrol of the grounds, I wonder.'

"They are at least further examples of the higher

technology that you were looking for.'

'Yes, but apparently acting autonomously at the moment.

Can we find the people who control them? Come on.'

They had continued along the winding road for another

kilometre when Green-8 spotted a more familiar form

approaching.

'It is a Blue Sector robot. I shall tell it of our mission...'

The robot's wheels were throwing up gravel as it sped

rapidly towards them. When it was close enough to initiate

introductions, Green-8 said: 'I am Coordinator Green-8. I

must request an urgent audience with -'

'Move aside!' the machine said almost curtly. 'I have

priority functions to perform which cannot be delayed...'

'This is important!' the Doctor called out.

But the machine sped on past them without slowing and

vanished round a bend in the road.

'Hardly a polite welcome,' the Doctor observed. 'It looks as

though we're going to have to make our own introductions.'

As the sun, now distinctly oblate due to atmospheric

distortion, touched the horizon, white artificial lights started

appearing about the parkland. They came in the form of rods

set in the ground and hovering tethered globes, which

dispelled the long shadows and pink and scarlet sunset hues,

creating islands of green grass and colourful foliage.

'I have never seen so much shadow,' Green-8 admitted.

The crops in my care grow in perpetual sunlight. I wonder if

they move the lights regularly to help maintain growth? Now I

understand why they require regular shipments of produce

from the lower latitudes. Food crops would not grow well

here.'

The highest points of some large structure appeared

through the trees. They crested a slight rise and the road ran

straight before them, cutting through low ornamental gardens

and up to the Palace itself.

'Almost a fairytale castle,' the Doctor said, 'though

evidently built more for show than defensive quality. It's still

sunlit so this can't quite be the pole, but we must be very

close'

The imposing building with two linked wings was adorned

by a cluster of spires and turrets with conical roofs, their

sheer white stone walls shining red and gold in the low rays

of the timeless sun. Light fanned across the surrounding

lawns from brightly lit windows and the distant murmur of

music and voices carried out into the twilight. Carriages

similar to the one they had seen entering the gates ahead of

them were parked to one side of the main courtyard. Keeping

their distance, the Doctor and Green-8 moved round to the

side of the building from where most of the light and noise

seemed to be coming. A line of large windows opened onto

some large interior space. Through these they could just

make out a number of people seated at long tables.

'Some sort of event seems to be taking place,' the Doctor

said. 'Presumably the "banquet" that the guards were talking about. Shall we go in and mingle?'

'We cannot enter by the main door. It would be...

improper.'

'You're going to have to work on that inferiority complex of

yours, Green-8. Whatever you were you're a thinking being

now, with as much right as any of those people to enter

through any door you please - as long as you do it politely.

But perhaps in the circumstances we might find the servants'

entrance and insinuate ourselves by degrees. Come on.'

They circled further, passing unseen through the deserted

gardens, until they came to the wing of the Palace which had

a more utilitarian appearance. From an open arched doorway

came the sound of raised voices and the clatter of metal

pans. The Doctor and Green-8 entered and a short passage

led them to a huge kitchen. Great copper pans steamed and

bubbled on black iron ranges. A whole side of meat turned on

spits over blazing open fires, dripping hissing fat into a long

tray which was ladled back over the slab of meat again by a

small boy. Sweating cooks yelled orders to busy helpers.

Platters, pots and tureens laid out on a massive wooden

table were being filled and quickly carried off shoulder-high

by a relay of liveried servants. None of them took the

slightest notice of the two newcomers.

The Doctor turned his false robotic head about so he could

examine the entire room through its eyes, then sighed. 'I'm

seriously beginning to wonder if we've been wasting our time

coming here'

'I do not understand'

'Look at this place. No automated cooking facilities, no

sign of freezing units, doubtful levels of food hygiene. If this is

intended as a re-creation of a period lifestyle then it's taking

authenticity to the extreme.'

'But what else can it be?'

'I'm not sure. Let's see where they're taking the food. That

should lead us to the people in charge of all this'

They rolled out of the kitchen after the laden servants. The

Doctor paused in the doorway and looked around at the busy

scene again. 'There's something missing'

'What, Doctor?'

'I don't know. I feel there's something that should be here

but isn't. It's so obvious and basic that I can't see it. Or

perhaps it isn't to be seen anyway...'

'I cannot see anything wrong, Doctor. But then much of

this is strange to me.'

Inside the body shell the Doctor shook his head

perplexedly,

an action replicated by its robotic counterpart. 'No doubt it

will come to me in time. Let's follow the food'

They proceeded along a bare stone corridor, through a

heavy door that had been wedged open and into a wider

corridor that was thickly carpeted and whose walls were hung

with paintings and tapestries. The stream of hurrying servants

sidestepped them neatly as they bustled along, but like the

kitchen staff showed no other interest in them.

'I also note the absence of something I expected to see,'

Green-8 announced.

'What's that?'

'More Blue Sector robots of my own make. We should

have seen several by now inside the Palace. I understood

they served the Lords closely, but I have only seen human

servants. That also is unexpected. I thought all humans,

except scavengers, were Lords. How can they allow others of

their own kind to serve them? It is the function of robots to

serve'

'You'll find that people can manage without robots in their

lives. Perhaps that's what's happening here. If the robots are

not required I assume they will not force their attentions on

people'

'Certainly not' Green-8 sounded shocked.

A large double door ahead of them was opened to allow

servants bearing platters of food to enter. The Doctor and

Green-8 slipped in after them.

Within was a spacious hall, its walls hung with shields and

banners. Heavy wooden beams and braces supported the

arching ceiling. A couple of hundred people were seated

around tables laid out in a V', with the space between them

set aside for entertainments. A trio of performers were at

work there as the Doctor and Green-8 entered. It was hard to

hear any words over the general buzz of conversation from

where they stood, but their act seemed to consist of telling

jokes, tripping over their own feet and hitting each other with

paddle-like sticks that made loud claps each time they struck.

'Ahh, some old friends,' the Doctor exclaimed

'You know them?'

'Only in passing. Bolwig, Lurket and Trampole, who may,

possibly, have performed before all the crowned heads of the

Nine Kingdoms.

'What Kingdoms are these? I know only of the Summer

and Winter Palaces.

'Another question in search of an answer. Let's ask

somebody who should know. Those people in the middle of

the top table look regal enough for our purposes.'

In two chairs with high and ornate backs sat a handsome

middle-aged couple, both very richly dressed. They each

wore small crowns and gem-studded chains of silver and

gold about their necks. To one side of the man was an

attractive young woman. Though she laughed with the rest of

the assembly at the antics of Bolwig's troupe, her expression

appeared strained.

The Doctor and Green-8 edged round the long tables just

as Bolwig and Lurket had taken on the roles of distant

acquaintances who had just met by chance.

'Yonder, sir,' said Bolwig, pointing into the distance. 'Those

two ladies who approach us. Is not the one in blue the most

ugly creature you have ever espied?'

Lurket cracked Bolwig across the back of the head with his

paddle, knocking him to the ground. 'That, sir, is my sister!'

The diners guffawed as Bolwig struggled to his feet. 'You

misheard me, sir!' he protested, 'I mean of course the shabby

old hag by her side!'

Lurket floored Bolwig for the second time. 'And that, sir, is

my wife!'

The audience roared with laughter again.

'Is this what is known as humour?' Green-8 asked. 'Of a

sort,' the Doctor said.

They were behind the top table now.

'I'll try to explain what's going on but I don't hold out much

hope,' the Doctor said. 'Neither is this the most conducive

setting for imparting dramatic revelations...' All the diners

were watching the performance as the Doctor opened the top

half of his disguise and climbed stiffly out. He stretched

himself for a moment, then boldly walked over to the man

with the crown and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Excuse me, your... Majesty? I'm the Doctor and I have

vitally important news concerning the security of the

kingdom.'

The man twisted round in his chair, his eyes popping as he

took in the colourful figure who had suddenly appeared by his

side. 'Eh, what? Who are you?'

'The Doctor, and I must talk to you urgently ..

The other diners were turning their heads. Somebody a

little way down the line said: 'Be he one of the performers?'

The Doctor persisted. 'Your Majesty, I must talk to you in

private. I believe your world is under attack!'

For a moment the King's expression was a complete

blank. Then he blinked and said: 'This is nonsense. Remove

this man!'

Several male banqueters had pushed back their chairs

and were rising menacingly. A pair of liveried servants were

stepping up with their hands outstretched to grab the Doctor.

Guards from the main door were running around the tables

with unsheathed swords.

'Doctor!' Green-8 called out. 'I suggest you resume your

disguise. It will protect you.'

The circle of would-be removal men closed about the

Doctor as he backed away from the table. 'This may indeed

be a time when discretion is the better part of valour,' the

Doctor agreed.

In a movement surprisingly agile for one of his build, the

Doctor sprang back to the fake body shell of Green-35,

scrambled inside and slammed down the upper torso, almost

trapping the fingers of his pursuers in the process. For a few

seconds they pounded on the shell of the machine, ':hen their

arms dropped to their sides.

'He went inside the... mechanical,' one of them said.

'Most... peculiar,' said another.

Through the eyepieces the Doctor saw them gazing at the

robotic body with puzzled expressions on their faces. Then as

one they turned away and went back to their places.

Other banqueters who had been staring at the altercation

now returned their attention to Bolwig's players. The chatter

in the banqueting hall resumed its former volume.

'I know this is a good disguise,' the Doctor said to Green-8

over their radio link, 'but this is rather more effective than

even I had anticipated...'

It was as though the robots standing in plain sight of two

hundred pairs of eyes did not exist.

Chapter Twenty

'No way am I going to mate, marry or do anything of that sort

with Kel,' said Peri emphatically, for what seemed to her to be

the twentieth time. 'He's a nice kid, but he's not for me. Get

it?'

She was standing resolutely in the 'square' of Thorn Tree.

Greld, some older men, Kel and Raz were ranged about her.

The village's women formed a curious ring a little distance off.

Nerla, her face red and grimy cheeks tear-streaked, hovered

anxiously on the edge of the inner group. The situation was

both absurd and seriously frustrating, Peri thought. With so

many more important things on the agenda, she'd managed

to get herself caught up in a primitive love-triangle.

'You promised to live by law of Thorn Tree,' Greld said.

'You wear b'long, you now Thorn Tree girl. Kel has right to

choose you.'

Peri tugged at the token tied about her arm but couldn't

get the knot loose. 'Look, I didn't know putting this thing on

meant letting myself in for that sort of a deal. I'm just passing

through. I've got other plans for my life. You can't make me

marry him!'

She realised it was a stupid thing to say the moment the

words had left her lips. They could make her do pretty much

what they liked. According to their rules she was in the

wrong. Unless she convinced them to see reason her only

choice would be to go back out into the forest and hope she

could reach the gardens before another dog pack got her.

Assuming she could find her way and the Thorn Tree clan

would let her go. And some people still thought living in the

wilds was a simple life!

'Why did you ever have to pick me?' she asked Kel in

exasperation.

Kel gave the wild grin of a young man a little drunk on the

privileges of adulthood. 'Because you are real woman. You

feel good to touch. You will please me. You will bear many

children -'

'Stop right there!' Peri said quickly.

She snatched a glance at the distraught Nerla, thinking

that Kel knew how to wound, possibly without thinking, the

girl who obviously wanted him. With several baths and a day

in a high-powered beauty saloon she'd be quite presentable,

but Nerla certainly hadn't filled out to her full potential yet.

Maybe she never would, of course. The harsh lifestyle wasn't

conducive to blooming health, and Peri had to admit she

herself had more embonpoint than any of the women here, a

quality which Kel clearly admired. But what could she say to

put him off?

'Look, I'd make a terrible mate,' Pen said with desperate

sincerity. 'I'm lazy, I wouldn't keep the but clean, I don't do

alfresco cooking. Why not forget me and choose somebody

who'd do a better job...' She reached out and grabbed Nerla's

arm and pulled her over to stand in front of Kel. 'Now

anybody can see Nerla wants to be your mate. And she's a

proper Thorn Tree girl, not a fly-by-nighter like me. She'd care

for you the way a great hunter deserves.'

Nerla looked at Kel hopefully.

Kel frowned, eyeing both of them with an air of almost

clinical calculation. Peri held her breath and tried to look

unappealing. Then he pointed a grubby finger at Peri. 'No. I

will still have you. You will learn to please me. If you are lazy I

will beat you -'

'Hey!' Peri exclaimed.

The other men were nodding at what they obviously saw

was a common-sense approach to ensuring domestic

harmony.

Peri eyed the distance to the gates from where she stood.

Assuming she could dodge the guards, she'd just have to

hope she could stay on the path that they came in along and

keep running.

I claim a challenge,' Nerla said tremulously, speaking up

for herself for the first time.

'Good for you!' Peri said encouragingly.

'She has the right,' Grekl agreed.

'I be better mate for you,' Nerla continued. 'She is...

outsider.

Not of Wild Woods. I will make you true-happy. She will

not'

'See,' Peri said. 'She thinks I'm not up to the job as well'

'I will fight her for you!' Nerla said.

Peri blinked. 'No, wait a moment. There's no need to fight

over this. You can have him. I forfeit -'

'You must fight Nerla,' Greld said. 'She must show to all

that she is better than you. It is only way Kel may change

chosen mate and keep his honour.'

'Oh come on! He's not worth actually fighting over -'

She saw Nerla's expression change to one of fierce

contempt. To her Kel was literally worth fighting for - and Peri

had just insulted both her and him.

I... I mean, of course Kel's a great guy,' Peri floundered,

'but... isn't there some other way?'

'No,' Greld said flatly. 'Let this be done now!'

In a daze, Peri watched the villagers shuffling back to form

a ring about herself and Nerla. She looked about desperately

for any gap through which she might slip away, but there was

none. Two of the hunters stepped forward and gave them

wooden staffs about as tall as they were. Peri took her

weapon gingerly while Nerla swung hers about to judge its

weight in a calculating manner.

Standing beside Greld, she saw Kel's face alive with

anticipation. He was enjoying the prospect of them fighting

over him. Why had she ever helped him escape from the

gardeners?

'Ready!' Greld said, and Nerla crouched, holding her staff

raised. Peri knew, ever since her first serious playground

dispute, she was no great physical fighter. She thought she

was reasonably brave, but she just didn't have whatever it

took to slug it out face to face. Half the trouble was her fear of

doing serious harm to her opponent by accident. She would

rather talk her way out of a confrontation or run away from it.

But those options were no longer open to her.

She looked at Nerla's face and knew her opponent

wouldn't be satisfied with inflicting a few scratches. But she

couldn't risk serious injury in these conditions. What if a bad

cut became infected and she never made it back to the

TARDIS's first-aid kit in time?

'Begin!'

With a scream of rage, Nerla leapt forward, swinging at

Peri's head. Peri parried the blow more by luck than skill, and

skipped backwards. Nerla yelled and came in for another

attack, raining down blows which Peri did her best to deflect

by gripping her staff with her hands well separated and

twisting it so that its middle lay across the path of the next

blow. An image popped into Peri's mind of Errol Flynn as

Robin Hood, sparring against Little John with quarterstaves

on a log bridge, set in an idyllic Sherwood Forest that never

existed outside Hollywood.

Where were heroes when you needed them?

They circled about, the crack of wood on wood filling the

clearing, the softly glowing fungus lanterns throwing multiple

shadows across the beaten earth.

Peri was heavier and a little taller, but Nerla was tougher

and more determined. In the end she would wear her down

by sheer persistence. If she could only lose in some graceful

manner. But she dare not trust Nerla to hold back. Yet to win

herself she'd have to beat Nerla - and that would mean

hurting her. And then she'd be expected to marry Kel!

Then the decision was made for her.

Stepping back quickly after parrying a ferocious blow to

her ribs, Peri's heel turned on a flat stone lying just under the

earth.

She slipped and staggered to regain her balance. Like

lightning

Nerla lunged forward and cracked her staff across Peri's

stomach.

With a whoop of pain, Peri fell over backwards, dropping

her own staff as by reflex she clutched at her middle. Nerla

straddled her prostrate body and sat down on her chest,

driving the wind from her for a second time. She raised her

staff aloft in triumph and the crowd cheered and shouted and

stamped their feet.

'There... you've won!' Peri gasped. 'It's over... you can

have Kel...'

But Nerla's face was set in a vengeful mask, showing not

a trace of mercy. Instead of putting her staff down she raised

it higher. Peri saw her knuckles tighten. She was going to

drive the butt down into Peri's face! Peri's arms were pinned

to her sides. She couldn't protect herself.

'No!' she screamed -

Then another woman in the crowd was screaming and

men were shouting and running.

The sudden uproar penetrated Nerla's revenge-filled mind

and she twisted round to see what the cause was. With a

sudden access of desperate strength, Peri wrenched one

arm free and shoved Nerla off her and onto her back. Nerla

tried to scramble to her knees but Peri twisted round and

slapped her with stinging force, leaving a blazing red imprint

of her hand on the girl's cheek.

'Next time stop fighting when someone surrenders!' she

yelled at her, sobbing with fear and anger.

Peri slowly realised that she and Nerla were alone on the

circle of earth. The rest of the villagers were cowering

amongst the huts to one side of her, the men holding spears

nervously at the ready. She turned to look in the direction of

their frightened glances.

Gliding out from the shadows between two huts opposite

was a metallic disk, hovering at about head height over the

ground. Two forward-facing lenses glittered like glass eyes.

As it got closer she saw the letters D.A.V.E. on its side...

'Oh hell,' Peri exclaimed with feeling, 'it's Dexel Dynes!'

The spaceship in the hangar had not provided Dynes with as

much material as he had hoped, nor the incontrovertible

proof he needed. He had opened a hatchway with an

emergency crank, the ship's power cells being completely

dead, and spent several hours exploring the interior. The

labelling on controls and machinery was in Esselvanian

script, but without power he had no access to the ship's

computer and every sort of personal item seemed to have

been removed from its crew compartments. The hyper-drive

blister damage strongly suggested it was the craft the royal

family had used in their escape, but it wasn't absolute

clinching evidence.

Against this theory was the fact that the ship felt cold and

long dead. Judging by external appearances it had been

sitting in the overgrown hangar for hundreds of years. How

could it have been spaceworthy just a year before?

Dynes felt the unfamiliar pangs of frustration. His instincts

told him there was a terrific story here, but he had to have an

answer that would satisfy his audience. There was nothing

worse than being presented with a first-class mystery then

being denied a satisfactory resolution.

He currently knew just how that felt. Where was Judd? It

had been over a day since Dynes had landed and the

Protector's attack force should have been hard on his heels.

Walking back to the Stop Press from the hangar, Dynes again

scanned the luminescent overcast above him. Apart from the

wheeling specks of a flock of birds it was empty of any sign of

life.

Inside his cabin he checked on the progress of the roving

DAVE units. He had left three DAVEs stationed around the

landing field to cover Judd's landing, and had sent the rest

out on reconnaissance.

So far they had discovered little of interest. The two he

had set exploring the surrounding forest showed only more of

the same familiar scenery, with a few traces of animal activity.

The one he had despatched along the overgrown road

leading away from the landing ground still had not reached its

end nor recorded anything of interest on the way. In places

the road was almost blocked by fallen trees and curtains of

vines. Nothing of any size, and certainly no wheeled traffic,

had used the way in years.

It was as Dynes brooded over this lack of newsworthy

data, that he noticed a well-worn path leading off the road

and cutting through the tangled forest. Perhaps it was simply

an animal track, but at least it looked freshly used. Taking

control of the DAVE he guided it over to take a closer look. In

the soft ground at the mouth of the path were the imprints of

several feet, encased in what might have been soft-soled

boots.

Encouraged by the find he directed the DAVE along the

path. After a short while the track joined a second pathway

running across its course. Dynes chose the way that

appeared most worn and continued forward.

The new path seemed to wind on interminably and Dynes

began looking anxiously at the distance the DAVE had

covered. He was almost on the point of giving up the search

when the DAVE turned a corner and he saw a crude wooden

fence ahead of him.

The structure was obviously of primitive manufacture but it

was better than nothing. Now, where were the beings who

built it? Cautiously he steered the DAVE up to the fence to

peer over its jagged crest.

Beyond was a simple settlement of thatched huts

illuminated by feeble lanterns nestling in a clearing in the

forest. He saw a circle of raggedly dressed humanoids intent

on watching some activity that he couldn't make out for the

press of bodies. The microphones picked up excited grunts

and yells. Dynes hopped the DAVE over the fence and

guided it forward between two of the huts, trying to find an

angle from which he could see what the people were so

excited about. He had no idea what part, if any, this played in

the story he was following, but right now it seemed to be the

most interesting thing happening on the entire planet.

He must have been careless manoeuvring the DAVE, for

he saw a woman's face on the edge of the crowd turn

towards him. Her mouth gaped open in surprise, then she

was stabbing a frightened finger at the DAVE and screaming

at the top of her voice.

In seconds her cry was taken up by the others. The crowd

stampeded in panic across the clearing to take shelter

amongst the huts on the far side, leaving two raggedly

dressed young women lying on the ground

He sent the DAVE closer. Since they knew he was here

now he might as well collect all the details he could. It looked

as though the two had been fighting each other, which always

made good viewing. A pity he hadn't arrived sooner...

Then one of the women, whose costume was slightly less

ragged than that of her companion, looked straight at the

DAVE and exclaimed'

'Oh hell, it's Dexel Dynes!'

Dynes zoomed in on her face. Underneath the grime it did

seem vaguely familiar... Then he remembered.

'Perpugilliam Brown,' his voice sounded through the

DAVE's speaker, 'hostile news subject!'

'What are you doing here, Dynes?' Pen demanded, jabbing

her finger at the DAVE's lenses. 'Grubbing around for more

cheap sensations?'

'Just doing my job, Ms Brown,' Dynes replied stiffly.

'Oh yeah? By the way, has the nose healed up yet?'

The silence from the camera drone was telling. The

memory of the last time she'd seen Dynes came back clearly.

The wooded glade on the treasure planet of Gelsandor,

Dynes lying on his back holding a hand to his thoroughly

deserved bloody nose. It had almost made up for all the

suffering she'd had to endure which he had been so eager to

chronicle for the entertainment of his viewers.

'As I said,' Dynes continued, as though the question had

not been asked, 'I am just doing my job. I suppose your friend

the Doctor is about here somewhere?'

Peri suddenly wondered how much Dynes knew about

their situation. Why were his drone cameras skulking round

the wild woods anyway? If he'd followed her here, he'd know

the Doctor wasn't with her. It suggested he was based

somewhere nearby and he'd just turned up at Thorn Tree by

chance and now he was fishing for information. But he wasn't

the sort of reporter who covered local flower shows, so he

must think something big was going on otherwise he wouldn't

be here at all. Perhaps she could turn the tables for a

change...

The Doctor will turn up when he's good and ready,' she

said casually.

'You look as though you could do with his assistance right

now, Ms Brown,' Dynes said, as the DAVE tilted up and down

to record her dishevelled state in lingering detail.

Peri folded her arms defiantly across what remained of the

bodice of her dress and said: 'This is nothing. Just a little fun

the, er, Mojave’s like to have with visitors. I suppose that's

what you're here for. Reporting on the Mojave’s of Anaheim?'

'Yes... I find the study of primitive societies highly

newsworthy,' Dynes replied.

'Then you can't have been studying these people very long

or else you'd know they aren't called Mojave’s and this isn't

Anaheim! You don't know anything about this place, do you?'

There was a near silence during which Peri fancied she

could hear Dynes grinding his teeth in anger, then he said, 'I

suppose you think you've been very clever?'

'Smarter than you, anyway.'

Peri had intended to tell Dynes to get lost, but now she

hesitated, thinking quickly. Could she use him to make an

exposé© of how the so-called 'Lords' were treating the

scavengers? That was a story that really did need telling to a

wider audience. Having an extra witness who could record

the details of what was going on here might be useful. She'd

got the impression when they last met that Dynes had a

name of sorts in his profession. Now was the chance to make

use of it.

'I know things about the set-up here that you could take

weeks finding out,' she continued. 'Now, I may be prepared to

let you in on some of this, if we can cut a deal.'

'I can offer the standard interview terms and perhaps a

bonus for supplying specialist local knowledge,' Dynes said

promptly.

'I don't want your money. We trade information so I can

decide what I'm going to do next, and at the end of it I

guarantee you'll get a story.'

'What sort of story?' Dynes asked cautiously.

'How about a bunch of Lords living in a Palace while their

hoards of fanatical robots keep a load of people as slaves?

Think you can make something with that?'

There was a pause of a quite different character the

previous one. Then Dynes said: 'Yes, I think my viewers

might find that of interest. Very well, Ms Brown. We have a

deal'

'Great'

Only then did Peri realise that many pairs of eyes were

fixed upon her. Recovering from their initial fright, the

scavengers had gradually edged out of their hiding places

and were looking at her in an attitude somewhere between

fear and awe. Of course, she was the one talking with a

disembodied voice coming from a flying disk the like of which

they hadn't seen before. They had probably thought it was

some new device of the gardeners when it first appeared,

sent after them in response to the produce they'd been

stealing. Now it was likely they didn't know what to make of it.

Time to boost her own status a little.

'This device is controlled by a... friend from a faraway

land,' she announced grandly. 'He is...' she almost gagged on

the words ... a seeker of the truth. He may be able to aid your

struggle against the gardeners and help me convince the

Lords that you should be returned to the light. We must

converse further in private. Then I will tell you what action I

am going to take next' She looked at Greld, whose face

showed his confusion. 'We expect to remain undisturbed,'

she told him, in a tone that assumed compliance. With the

DAVE following she marched boldly back into the but she had

slept in and firmly pulled the ragged curtain over the door.

Inside she sat down gingerly on her rough mattress,

rubbing her sore ribs, and looked squarely at the camera

drone.

'Okay. You wouldn't be here unless it was for something

big. You tell me about it and I'll tell you how it fits in with the

local situation.'

Dynes' voice came back crisply over the drone's speaker.

'Well, I've been doing an exclusive on Glavis Judd and the

expansion of his Protectorate'

Peri didn't repeat Dynes' earlier mistake and try to pretend

she'd heard of either of them. 'I've been away from this, uh,

sector of space for a while. Tell me about this Judd guy'

Dynes did so.

Peri emerged from the hut fifteen minutes later snapping out

orders and hoping the scavengers were still sufficiently

impressed with her recent performance not to argue.

'Chansor Greld - listen carefully. An evil man is coming

from far away with an army to invade Esselven. They have

weapons and machines much more dangerous than the

gardeners. You can't fight them so you must just stay out of

sight and hope they don't find you. You must send

messengers to the other villages telling them to keep their

heads down. The Lords may not know this man is coming so

I'm going to tell them. I'll need an escort to get to the edge of

the woods and a few of your people to go with me to the

Palace. Do you understand?'

The old man looked dazed but he nodded. 'I. .. yes, Peri

Brown. I understand. It shall be done. Who shall you take

with you to see Lords?'

Peri looked about at the bemused villagers who had been

hanging on her words. She'd need at least one person to act

as a guide and to represent the scavenger people. But who?

Then Kel stepped forward, looking impressive, in a ragged

way, in his hunter garb, holding his spear firmly. 'I shall go to

Palace. I shall talk with Lords. I shall... spit in their eye if they do not listen.'

Peri grinned. For all his faults Kel might be the best person

to take. 'Right, you can come.'

Nerla and Raz stepped up beside Kel and whispered

urgently in his ear. He said: 'They also want to come. We

were best scavenger team. Never got caught by

gardeners...'cept the last time.'

Pen frowned at Nerla. 'No more fighting?'

'No more fighting, Peri Brown,' she promised.

'Okay, you're all on. Grab some food and let's get going.'

Ten minutes later, the four of them with three escort hunters

and the DAVE drone gliding in their wake, were heading back

along the path to the edge of the wild woods.

Peri's mind was spinning and she knew she was not half

as confident as she had appeared. It was in these moments

that she could have really used the Doctor's advice. But there

was no time to hunt for the Doctor. She had to get to the

Palace and find out what the Lords were doing about the

imminent invasion. From what Dynes had said it seemed they

had let their defences rot. In fact she didn't really care much

about the Lords after seeing the way they had treated the

scavengers. Her sympathy for the scavengers had also taken

something of a downturn recently, but at least she felt they

had an excuse for behaving as they did. Now it was a case of

sink or swim together.

The trouble was she had no idea what sort of reception

she would get when and if she managed to get to this fabled

Palace. Based on what Dynes had told her, she was

beginning to suspect that the history of Esselven Kel had

related to her had been quite distorted, though she hadn't got

the whole thing straight in her own head yet. Focus, she

reminded herself. The hard fact was that a fascist tyrant was

going to invade this world anytime now and it seemed to

have fallen to her to try to do something about it.

To assist in her mission she had a handful of people barely

out of the stone age and a reporter who was only cooperating

out of cynical self-interest. Getting to the Palace ahead of

Judd's force would allow Dynes to set up cameras to record

both sides of the battle he was obviously anticipating with

some delight.

All in all it was not, Peri had to admit, a comforting

proposition.

The bloated red eye of the sun was glittering through the

trees as they reached the edge of the wild woods. Here their

escort left them with words of encouragement, and the

diminished party set off through the pylon chain and out

across the rolling heathland towards the gardens.

They made good time. Despite his disability Raz moved as

quickly as his companions. But Peri didn't intend to walk all

the way to the Palace, which from her estimates was nearly a

day away on foot. She had considered but rejected asking

Dynes for transport in his own ship. Assuming he had agreed

it would put her too much in his power. Despite their

understanding she didn't trust him an inch. Peri was

determined to find some transport of her own, and thought

the gardeners might provide what she required.

The party cautiously approached the landscaping zone,

listening for the sound of powerful engines. From the top of a

small hill they saw the dark scar of ripped earth before them

and in the distance a machine grinding along like some huge

mechanical beetle. Peri led them along the edge of the

heathland, spying on the working zone as they went. It wasn't

long before she found what she was after.

On a stretch of ground flattened by the tracks of tyres and

caterpillar tracks, three of the earthmovers stood silent and

unattended. Peri's eyes fastened on one which was evidently

the local equivalent of a dumper truck, resting on six huge

tyres taller than a man. It was as she'd hoped. With the

gardeners still busy putting the gardens to rights, most of this

land was being worked only by completely automated

machines while others lay idle. They shouldn't notice if one

went missing.

She'd noticed the first time they'd crossed the landscaping

zone that even the automated machines had driver's cabins,

so it seemed a safe bet that they could be steered manually.

That was the theory anyway.

They worked their way as close to the machine as

possible using what cover the scrub grass and stunted

bushes provided. They couldn't see any gardeners, but other

earthmovers were still visible in the distance.

'No scavenger has ever tried to take a thing like that

before,' Kel whispered as they crouched in the long grass.

'Good, Peri said. 'That should mean it won't be locked.

Come on!'

They dashed across the open space and into the shadow

of the truck. The three scavengers goggled at the bulk of the

machine, never having been as close to one before. Peri saw

there was a folding platform lift reaching down from the side

of the cab, presumably to accommodate the wheeled

gardeners, but beside it was a set of metal rungs welded to

the body. She climbed up them to the wide running board and

tugged at the door. It opened easily. She scrambled inside

the large driver's cabin followed by the others.

As they looked about them in wonder, Peri examined the

control position. At first she thought there was no driver's

seat, but then she saw it was folded down into a recess in the

floor, positioned out of the way so that a gardener could

operate the machine. Maybe the Lords liked to drive these

things for fun once in a while. It unfolded with a tug and she

seated herself before the controls.

The steering column was topped by an aircraft style yoke

rather than a wheel, but there was a straightforward-looking

gear stick running in a slot beside the seat. The other lever

had to be the handbrake. Just two pedals on the floor

suggested the equivalent of automatic transmission. Where

the dashboard display should have been was a featureless

black panel with a vertical row of large coloured buttons

beside it. At least the general arrangement was recognisable.

If they were in Dynes' time, then it was about a millennium

ahead of Peri's Earthly experience, but certain fundamentals

of ergonomic design apparently still held true.

'Can you actually drive one of these?' said Dynes' voice,

relayed through the DAVE, in her ear.

'During holidays back home I drove a farm tractor and

once even a combine harvester; she said, trying to sound

confident. 'This isn't so different.' I hope, she added silently.

Peri pressed the top button of the row and coloured lines

and figures appeared on the black panel. Great, she thought:

some sort of solid state display. Hopefully it's saying

everything's fine and we've got a full tank of gas. She

pressed the next button and a subdued hum of power could

be heard, accompanied by more lines and lights flickering

over the display.

She selected what she hoped was a forward gear, eased

off the handbrake and lightly pressed down the pedal which

she guessed was the throttle -

With a powerful but muted whine of motors, the huge

vehicle lurched forward. Peri twisted the steering yoke

sharply to avoid hitting one of the stationary earthmovers.

The vehicle swayed alarmingly, throwing Kel and the others

off their feet. Note the highly geared power steering, Peri told

herself, as with a gentler motion she put them back on a

straight course.

Accelerating steadily, she sent the huge vehicle bumping

over the rolling moorland northwards.

'Next stop the Palace,' she told her passengers cheerfully.

Chapter Twenty-one

Oralissa sat numbly in her chair, momentarily oblivious to the

chatter about her and the food on her plate. She had seen

something amazing take place and, incredibly, no one else

appeared to think it worthy of comment.

'My lady? Oralissa?'

She blinked, realising Benedek had been talking to her.

Benedek had drawn the lucky straw and been seated next to

her. Stephon was placed on the other side of the two high

chairs beside her mother. The fleeting glances of annoyance

he directed at Benedek spoke of his frustration at being

separated from Oralissa, and uncertainty as to what headway

his rival was making in her affections. If only he knew that

romance was the last thing on her mind at that moment.

'Are you feeling unwell?' Benedek asked, his voice thick

with genuine concern.

'Did you see the man who spoke to my father but seconds

past?'

'Oh, he was one of the jesters, was he not? These fellows

sometimes get above themselves in their playacting.'

'I don't think so. When you rose to remove him... he got

back inside a mechanical! Did you not see that?'

Benedek looked puzzled. 'The fellow just took himself off. I

did not notice where'

'But you must have seen it. There were two mechanicals

by the wall. They wore green devices rather than blue. They

have both left now...'

She saw the puzzled, slightly pitying look on Benedek's

face and knew it was useless to say more.

'I crave your pardon,' she said quickly. 'I must beg to leave

the table. You are right, I am feeling a little unwell... Father,

may I leave?'

Her father looked at her sternly and said in low tones: 'My

dear, this feast is in thy own honour. It is not done to absent

oneself at such times.'

'Please, Father. Would you wish me to faint away when a

few breaths of cool air would soon clear my head? I promise I

shall not be long.'

Her Father sighed. 'As you wish. I shall summon your

maid'

'No - I wish to be alone.'

The male diners rose politely as Oralissa left the table and

exited the chamber as fast as decorum permitted. Outside in

the hall she glanced around wildly for some sign of the

mechanicals. There was no point in asking the servants, she

knew. She picked up her skirts and raced along the main

corridor, glancing down every turning. Surely they could not

have gone far...

Green-8 and the Doctor rolled along a corridor unremarked

by the few servants they passed.

'How can we discover the information we seek if the

inhabitants of this place reject you in your true form and

ignore us in the form of robots?'

'More to the point; why do they behave that way?' the

Doctor said. 'It was almost as though they were under some

form of mental control.'

'Could this be connected with the controlling intelligences

we seek?'

'I notice you did not call them the "Lords".'

Green-8 sounded almost dejected. 'If these are the Lords,

then they cannot be the masters of Esselven. Apart from their

lifestyle, how can they direct robots that they do not seem

able even to

see? It is hard to reject something I held to be a fact all my

functional existence, but in the face of this evidence I must

do so.'

'I know this can't be easy for you, but don't let it interfere

with our mission. All it means is that we'll have to work this

problem out for ourselves. Let's start with a basic

assumption. This Palace is evidently an important building, so

we shall suppose for the moment, despite the curious

behaviour of its current inhabitants, that there is some form of

control centre located here. Where do we find it?'

The logical place to site a control centre is in the lower

levels. If this was the original home of the rulers of Esselven,

then they would not care to go far to monitor the activities of

their robots, yet they would want the upper levels open to the

air and light for leisure and private use. It would also be a

convenient place for the tubeway terminus to be situated.'

'Congratulations, Green-8.You're beginning to reason like

one of the ruling class, though that may not be an entirely

desirable thing. However, it suggests that we're looking for a

simple lift. The entrance might even be in plain sight, if these

people don't take any notice of robots coming and going.

Let's see if we can find the main hall. This way, I would

guess...'

They rolled along the corridor until they came to a

spacious entrance hall. Two flights of solid stairs with carved

heraldic figures perched on their newel posts rose by half

turns to the broad landing above. Inlaid wooden panels

decorated the walls.

'There may be more than one shaft in a building this size,

but this would be the logical place to locate an access point,'

the Doctor said, beginning to examine the walls closely.

'I see no doors here other than the obvious ones, Doctor.'

'It may have been concealed, either by accident or design,'

the Doctor said. 'AAh, what have we here?'

He was checking the area under one of the flights of stairs.

Two faint shadowy bands extended outward from the skirting

board and faded as they reached the centre of the hall.

'They are consistent with the repeated passage of robot

wheels,' Green-8 said.

The Doctor reached out with his pseudo-robotic arm to

examine the wall immediately above the point where the

tracks appeared. The rubber tips of his fingers seemed to

sink into the wooden panel.

'Most interesting. A holographic projection of a wall panel.

But how do we see what's behind it?'

'Doctor,' Green-8 said. 'It may respond to a common key

signal'

'Go ahead, Green-8.'

Green-8 did not appear to do anything, but the wooden

panel melted away to reveal a recessed door of polished

metal, which in turn slid back into a pocket in the wall to

reveal a small boxlike compartment.

'The lift,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'I think it'll just about

take both of us'

There was a simple control panel inside the lift that

showed two sub levels.

'The lowest is probably the tubeway station,' the Doctor

said. 'Let's try the one above that...'

The door had just closed behind them as Oralissa, breathing

heavily, ran into the hall.

When she saw it was empty, her shoulders slumped.

Where could they be? Perhaps they had gone back outside?

She made her way along to a side door and stepped out into

the cool air of the perpetual twilight.

With all the guests inside she had the gardens to herself,

Oralissa realised. That might make it easier to find the two

mechanicals.

But though she circled the Palace completely, peering into

every shadowed corner, she could see nothing of them. In

fact, she now realised, she had seen no mechanicals of any

description, apart from the two she sought, either here or in

the Palace for some time. Where had they all gone?

The nervous energy that had sustained her began to run

low, and she sat down on a bench by a lightning rod to think.

Distantly she could hear the merrymaking from the Great

Hall, but had no urge to return to the banquet. She had felt

the curious eyes upon her all the time she had been seated

and it had done nothing to lift her spirits.

She sighed. As if she didn't have enough concerns without

being the prize in a political marriage contested by rival

suitors. At least the cool and quiet of the garden was restful.

She felt it easier to concentrate out here, simply enjoying the

sight of the flowers basking in the light of the glow rod...

Light.

What was it about the light?

Even as she tried to clothe her vague suspicion with words

she felt the elusive thread of reason slipping away from her

as it had so often before. But she wouldn't let it go! The

image of the man in the guise of a mechanical was still strong

in her mind; proof that the unexpected could happen, that

there was more to life than outward appearance.

She frowned at the lighting rod, but it seemed the same as

always. What was wrong with it? Think, think!

The barrier melted away and she suddenly saw the

obvious. The rod's light was bright, clear and constant but

cold. But if it was cold it could not hold a flame, and if there

was no flame burning inside, what could it be? The rods were

like the mechanicals, even more ubiquitous, in fact. They

were a wonderful thing, an impossible thing. They were there,

everybody used them - but nobody wondered who made

them or how they worked!

Except her.

And once again she knew nobody would understand. Her

excitement was muted by the dismal knowledge that if she

rushed back to the banquet with her latest puzzle it would be

received with the same profound lack of interest as before.

There was no one she could ask. She had tried everybody

who would listen...

No, not quite.

She felt the thrill of a second revelation. It was so obvious!

Why had she not thought to ask them before?

She would find a mechanical, any mechanical, and ask it

her questions about the lightning rods, about the strange

storm, even its own origins. It was a servant. It must answer

her. And if there were no mechanicals close to the Palace,

then she would seek them out further afield.

Heartened by her new sense of resolution, Oralissa

sprang to her feet and set off deeper into the gardens.

The Doctor and Green-8 rolled out into a spacious, square,

brightly lit vestibule. The utilitarian walls bore none of the

decoration evident in the Palace above. Set in the middle of

each were three large metal doors.

'Hallo!' the Doctor called loudly, is anybody here?'

There was no answer from behind any of the featureless

doors. The Doctor pointed to the door to the left of the lift.

'Let's try that one first.'

The door slid back at the Doctor's touch and lights within

came on. A large chamber extended before them. Machine

tools were ranged about the walls, together with shelves and

racks piled high with robotic spare parts.

They rolled inside and looked around.

'A machine shop and robot maintenance bay,' the Doctor

said. This may be where your Blue Sector robots keep

themselves operational, Green-8:

Not only Blue Sector robots, Doctor. Look there.'

Several large forms moulded out of thin clear plastic had

been stacked against a wall. Scraps of foam packing block

and sealing tape lay on the floor by them.

'They are storage cocoons for assembled robots that have

not yet been activated,' Green-8 said. 'The inner dimensions

of the shells are consistent with the proportions of the three

fighting machines we encountered in the grounds.'

'And they appear to have been recently unpacked: the

Doctor added. 'You don't activate fighting robots for fun. It's

possible somebody knows about the attack on the planet's

shield and is responding to it. But unless those revellers

upstairs are putting on a deliberate show of bravado,

nobody's told them.

'More evidence that they are not the rulers here. But who

is?'

'We'll find out, the Doctor assured him. 'This place seems

to extend for some way under the Palace. There may be

another entrance from outside in the grounds, but we'll leave

that for later. Let's try the next door...'

The door on the opposite side of the vestibule differed

from the others because a second hinged door had been

fitted over the recess. The Doctor swung it aside, noting its

thickness. The inner door radiated a noticeable chill.

'A storage room of some sort. What does whoever uses

this place want to keep in here, I wonder - emergency

rations?'

The inner door slid open and cold, dry musty air poured

out. Lights come on automatically.

The icy room was filled with metal racks and shelves, on

which rested dozens of gaunt and desiccated bodies.

Chapter Twenty-two

Glavis Judd reached the rank of Sector Marshal at a younger

age than any man before him. Then he put his name forward

as the Military Party candidate for the next election to the

post of World President of Zalcrossar.

He won with a sizable majority.

Immediately, he began stamping out crime and corruption

with a vigour that only increased his popularity. He used

military forces in addition to the civilian police, which then

justified increasing military funding.

At the next election he was uncontested.

Methodically he began rebuilding the structure of

Zaicrossar society. He encouraged the promotion of the

genuinely able and made changes to the educational system

to ensure his philosophy permeated all parts of the

curriculum. Life subtly became more rigid, but at the same

time unquestionably fairer and more efficient. People came to

rely on the security obedience to the law gave them. It

seemed a reasonable exchange for some reduction in

personal freedom. A levelling out had taken place, and if the

very rich had become poorer, then many more poor had

attained a tolerable standard of living. And if the former rich

resented the fact, then there was little they could do about it.

Judd was supported by the unquestioning loyalty of the

military class, which had come out of its long slumber to

discover both power and newfound respect.

Before another election was due, Judd abolished the multi-

party system as inefficient. By then nobody who mattered

dared oppose him.

But Judd realised that his new world order needed a sense

of dynamism; a safety valve, a distraction and a goal to justify

its existence. In short, he needed enemies.

So he chose Gadron, a planet in a relatively nearby star

system that was not part of any larger alliance. He identified

the malcontents in Gadron society and secretly funded and

encouraged them. Steadily he created a situation of growing

social unrest, at the same time publicising through Gadron's

information media the smoothly functioning social order on

Zalcrossar. Soon a significant minority on Gadron was calling

openly for Judd to rid them of their corrupt leaders and bring

peace and just government to the planet. That was all the

excuse Judd needed. Announcing that he was responding to

a 'popular' request to give military aid and assistance, he

despatched his fleet. Such was the disorder and confusion

when it reached Gadron, that he occupied the world with little

opposition.

It had been the grateful citizens of Gadron who first

bestowed upon Judd the title of Protector...

'Protector, the discontinuity is no longer growing. I'm

detecting increased instability about its perimeter.'

The call from the scanning team leader monitoring the

force shield snapped Judd's thoughts back to the present. He

frowned at the image on the screen showing the rippling

vortex circling the hole in the shield.

'What's causing this?' Judd demanded. 'It was increasing

steadily only a minute ago.'

'Perhaps somebody on the surface is trying to close the

aperture by feeding a localised energy pulse into the

discontinuity... or it is a natural function of the shield matrix. I

do not know for certain, Protector, the man admitted

wretchedly. 'This is unlike any force field I have ever seen

before. But if the instability increases the hole may collapse

at any moment.'

'What is its present diameter?'

'Fifteen... no, fourteen metres, Protector. It keeps

changing. The perimeter is no longer as sharply defined as it

was.'

Fourteen metres, Judd knew, was just wide enough to

pass a landing craft with wings and pods retracted and allow

a slim margin of safety. Of course, if the entrance did close

they could try another bombardment to re-open it. But if those

on the ground were actively trying to maintain the shield, the

next attempt might not be so successful.

Judd opened his link to the Captain of the Valtor. 'I'm going

down now, before the discontinuity closes. Maintain

englobement until you hear from me again.'

'As you command, Protector.'

Judd opened the general channel.

'Judd to Beachhead assault force: prepare for immediate

descent. Follow Lander One through the shield discontinuity

at minimum safe separation. Once inside the shield, initiate

attack plan Delta. Good luck. Judd out'

Judd turned to his own pilot. 'Unlock from mother ship.

Begin descent phase'

One by one, the six armoured landing craft detached

themselves from their recessed bays in the hull of the Valtor

and arced away towards the mirrored globe below.

Judd watched the pucker of the discontinuity grow on the

forward view screen and felt a sense of welcome relief

growing within him Dynes had touched on a sore point in his

last interview. The unresolved problem of Esselven troubled

Judd more than he had admitted. But soon the 'keys' of

Esselven would be in his hands and their show of defiance

would be over.

Then the expansion of the Protectorate would resume as

planned...

The lander yawed as the pilot centred their target on his

flight

scope, then cut in the autopilot. With the other landers

forming a tight line astern, they plunged into the mouth of the

shaft.

The spacial distortion tore through them, sending the

controls into disarray. The cabin lights flickered but the ship

held its course. The rear view screen showed the rest of the

beachhead force right behind them, their hulls just clearing

the walls of the

tunnel.

Judd fought against the sickening sensation and the jolts

of nervous stimulation, forcing out calming words even when

the rest of the command deck crew were incapable of

coherent speech.

'Hold steady... this will only last a few seconds... watch for

the end of the tunnel...'

Then it happened.

The rear screen showed the side of the swirling shaft

bulging inwards. Lander Two rolled to try to avoid the

obstruction and its flank grazed the opposite wall. The energy

field was not as coherent or impenetrable within the tunnel as

it was on the surface, but at the speed the craft was travelling

it was as though it had struck a wall of water.

Lander Two spun crazily out of control, rebounding from

side to side along the tunnel, each impact checking the

vessel's forward motion. Unable to slow in time, Lander

Three smashed into the tumbling ship.

The shaft filled with flame and whirling debris as the two

ships disintegrated.

'No!' Judd raged in impotent fury.

Munitions and ruptured energy cells aboard the lost ships

swelled the destructive impact into an explosion of

incandescent fury. Confined within the shaft, a billowing

tongue of fire licked out and enveloped Lander One.

Chapter Twenty-three

'Then we'll keep looking until we find them,' the Doctor said,

rolling over to the last door in the vestibule.

The door opened at his touch and the lights came on. The

Doctor beamed at what was revealed. ‘Now this is more like

it...'

The Doctor and Green-8 finished their cursory examination

of the bodies in the cold room and came out into the vestibule

again, closing the door on the grisly remains within. It had

been impossible to determine exactly how they had died.

There were no outward signs of violence, though a few of

them had visible skin lesions.

'I wonder how long they've been there?' the Doctor said.

'That room was obviously designed to preserve them without

decay.'

'But who are they?' Green-8 wondered.

Not the immediate relatives of the present inhabitants, I

think. Those corpses had clothes made from synthetic fabrics

and they were styled quite differently from the costumes of

those people we saw at the banquet. Everything they were

wearing was of natural organic origin, some even homespun.

All in keeping with their apparent level of technological

development - robots and artificial lighting apart'

'This does not tell us who has preserved these bodies so

carefully, or why?'

'Another question to add to our list. The Blue Sector robots

might be able to provide the answers - if they will ever

condescend to speak to us. We know they come down here,

and they probably maintain the facilities. They might even

have carried out the interment, acting on instructions

received'

'We have only seen one Blue Sector robot so far, but if

there were any more down here they should have registered

our presence and shown themselves by now'

The King turned to his wife and said in an impatient

undertone: 'The servants cannot find Oralissa in the gardens

and her maid vouches she is not in her room. What can have

become of her? The guests are becoming restless'

'Simply a display of nerves, I fancy,' the Queen said

soothingly. She cast her eyes significantly over the two

suitors. 'Oralissa knows she must choose between them, and

that all here await the outcome with interest. When she has

calmed herself she will return'

'Of late she has been preoccupied of mind,' the King

fretted. 'Her manner has been strange_ There were odd

questions, were there not..?'

His face blanked for a moment, then took on an

expression of milder concern as he leaned across Oralissa's

empty chair to Benedek.

'I apologise for my daughter's absence. I pray you will not

count it a breach of manners'

'As long as she is safe, your Majesty, that is all that

matters,' Benedek said sincerely. 'But, if her absence causes

you concern, should a wider search not be made for her?'

Duke Stephon, though seated on the other side of Queen

Celestina, must have been listening intently, for he

immediately said: 'I would be honoured to look for her

myself.'

'So should I,' Benedek said quickly.

'I'm certain there is no need for either of you good

gentlemen to trouble yourselves,' the King said placatingly.

But others along the table had heard the exchange. Fine

wine had induced a certain merriment and easing of

inhibitions, and jovial cries of: 'Find the Princess!" and:

'Where's Oralissa hiding?' began to run round the company. A

few struggled to their feet, calling for the garden doors to be

opened.

Edrin and his wife exchanged helpless glances. There

were times when even a king was powerless to control

events.

'Open the doors,' he commanded.

In minutes the hall was virtually empty except for servants

and Bolwig's troupe, who to their surprise now found

themselves without an audience.

The King offered his wife his arm. 'We might also take to

the grounds. Maybe we can find our errant daughter...'

Trampole watched the royal couple exit with a look of

consternation, then turned to Bolwig. 'This is but Nettlefoot

Field all over again! I said the Red Pig jape was too base for

company of quality.'

'Addlepated fool,' Bolwig said. 'Did you not hear? They

seek the beauteous Princess Oralissa, and methinks we

should do the same'

'But we're hired as entertainers and songsmiths, not

chasers after lost princesses, however fair of face and form,'

Lurket pointed out.

'Think on!' Bolwig said. 'These merry folk may make fools

of themselves a-stumbling round in the dark. This may turn

into a comic debauch. Let us follow on soft feet and see. We

might acquire many a rich and saucy tale on the way, that

patrons in other lands may be moved to prise from our

tongues with suitable gifts of golden coin. So ho with me,

lads, and note all you see'

The third door had opened onto a control room, built within a

large polygonal chamber. It was ringed about with half a

dozen auxiliary bays and one master control station, where a

deep swivel chair rested before banks of buttons, display

panels and monitor screens. A scattering of winking lights

and scrolling text suggested that the equipment was active.

The Doctor had climbed out of his mechanical disguise,

leaving it standing empty in a corner, and had once again

donned his patchwork coat. Now he was moving rapidly from

one bay to another, his face alive with intense fascination.

Occasionally he tapped some of the control keys. Green-8

followed silently in his wake.

When the Doctor had finished his survey he sat down at

the master control panel frowning, deep in thought.

'This centre appears to encompass a comprehensive

range of functions: Green-8 observed.

'It certainly does,' the Doctor agreed. 'Interstellar

transmitter. Controls for a planetary grid to draw power from

the sun - a lot of which is going into maintaining the shield.

Reserve nuclear reactors - there's a couple buried in silos

under our feet. Robotic function monitors. Entertainment and

environmental systems for the Palace. Travel tube functions,

a general surveillance network. All the tools of an advanced

society.'

'But does it help us locate the true rulers of Esselven?'

The Doctor spread his arms to take in the control room.

'You could say you're looking at them right now, or at least

the continuing expression of their will. This looks like it's the

end of one part of our quest at least. No ruling Lords, just an

extensive computer system quietly running its programmes.

Frustrating and possibly anti-climactic, but there it is and we

must make the best of it.'

'But who gave the computer its original instructions?'

'That's still a mystery. Those people in the freezer might

have been able to tell you. Of course there are extensive

data files in this system which might hold the necessary

information, but without knowing the right questions to ask, it

might take a while to find the answer. Meanwhile, we have a

more pressing problem.'

'The possible invaders. I had not forgotten. What have you

learned?'

'I'm afraid it may only confirm my earlier fears...' The

Doctor carefully tapped at a keyboard and the shield status

display appeared on the screen before him. 'If I'm interpreting

these readings correctly, there is a small discontinuity in the

force shield over the night side of Esselven and one or more

ships are currently passing through it. However, there's

something very strange about the characteristics of the

shield...' He frowned and shook his head slowly.

'Can you close the discontinuity?'

'I'll have to study the system further before risking making

any changes to the shield. There's a tremendous quantity of

energy bound up in it, which it would be unwise to mishandle'

'Perhaps the system is capable of responding to the threat

by itself?'

'Possibly...' The Doctor worked at the keyboard for a

moment. A screen began displaying several lines of flashing

red text.

This is not encouraging,' the Doctor said grimly. 'Green

and Red Sector units are, for some reason, continuing with

their regular assignments. Blue Sector units and special

guards - like the three we saw earlier, presumably - have

gone to their designated defence stations, wherever they are.

This confirms that there's trouble coming, but it seems only

the two of us, and a few of your fellow robots, are preparing

to do anything about it!'

Stephon and Benedek, with their personal companions by

their sides, roamed the gardens calling out Oralissa's name

at intervals. It was soon apparent to each party that the other

was unwilling to let them out of their sight in case they found

Oralissa first.

As time passed and they heard no news from other

searchers, nor found any trace of Oralissa themselves,

genuine concern began to colour their simple desire to best

the other.

Finally frustration led Stephon to mutter: 'I hope the Prince

of Corthane said nothing to upset the Princess'

It was half a spoken thought, but Benedek chanced to be

near enough to hear the words. The younger man flushed

and turned his head sharply. 'Of what are you accusing me,

sir?' he demanded with brittle formality.

'I make no accusation, sir: Stephon replied. 'I merely

expressed the hope that the fair lady has not been

discommoded in some way. You spoke long to her over

dinner, yet I noted her expression was often distant. Perhaps

she had had her fill of your company?'

'Do you insinuate that my presence tired the lady?'

'If 'twere not the case, then why did she absent herself

with such haste? Of what did you speak together?'

'Of nothing improper, that I swear. Can you imagine I

would let drop a single word that might offend such a

precious jewel as the Princess?'

'Not by deliberate intent, mayhap, but perhaps out of

youthful inexperience -'

'Once again you insult me, sir. I demand an apology!'

'The slight exists only in your mind, Prince, and I cannot

be held responsible for the state of that'

Benedek's face darkened further. 'You compound the

insult! Apologise at once!'

Their raised voices had carried through the gardens and

were drawing other guests to the patch of lawn on which they

stood.

'If you cannot hold your own in the duel of words,' Stephon

said, 'do not contend with a wordsmith of greater powers.'

'Perhaps you duel with words because you fear to duel

with steel!' Benedek snapped back.

There was a gasp from the onlookers. As the implications

of the retort struck home, the Duke's previous irritation grew

to true anger. 'I fear nobody's steel, sir, and stand ready to

prove it at your pleasure'

'Then I shall have that pleasure, sir!'

The onlookers gasped. The companions of both Duke and

Prince were glaring at each other, reaching for their dress

daggers.

King Edrin came up to them almost at a run, his wife at his

heels, having caught the last few words of the challenge.

'Good sirs, honoured guests,' he panted. 'Tongues

loosened by wine may spill careless words not truly meant.

Let each allow the other some latitude and let us continue

once more in peace and good fellowship'

'I regret, good King, that this is not possible,' Stephon said,

his eyes still fixed on Benedek. 'Things said cannot now be

unsaid, nor blamed upon the grape. I attest before this

company that this circumstance is no fault of our hosts, but

the culmination of old enmity between Eridros and Corthane

that was thought buried, but has flowered once again. Well,

Benedek? When and where shall we settle this?'

'Here and now, before these witnesses who shall judge

that the contest shall be a fair one,' Benedek said boldly.

'Impetuous as ever.'

'I see no cause for delay.'

'Until first blood is drawn... or death?'

'Until first blood... or surrender.'

'I shall never surrender.'

'No more shall I!'

'Then let fate decide between us. The winner shall have

Oralissa's hand. Agreed?'

'It shall be so' Benedek bowed to Edrin and Celestina. 'I

apologise that blood must be spilled on your soil. Likewise, I

do state before my men that no ill feeling shall be incurred

upon Aldermar from Corthane in consequence of what shall

be done here. But... should things not go well for me, tell

Oralissa... that she won my heart from the first -'

'As did she mine!' Stephon interjected. 'Though she must

not feel any guilt for what will be done'

'So say I also!' Benedek said. 'She is but the last flake of

snow settling on a high peak that sends an avalanche down

into the valley below. Assure her that she is quite innocent

and without any blame in this concern.' He looked at

Stephon. 'That is one matter upon which we think as one.

'The only such, I fear,' the Duke replied.

The King's shoulders sank in resignation while the Queen

stifled a cry of dismay.

The two men removed their jackets as swords were sent

for from the Palace armoury. Their companions prepared to

second them. King Edrin gravely agreed to start the duel.

Standing in the shadows, Bolwig's players watched the

preparations with interest.

'You note everything that happens; Bolwig whispered

urgently to his companions. 'These doings shall be the

makings of lyrics for two ballads and an epic recitation, or I'm

no judge!'

Queen Celestina was wringing her hands as she looked

about the gardens. '0, Oralissa; they risk life and honour for

you. You should be here'

'Perhaps; Stephon said, 'it is well that she be spared this

sight'

'Yes, let us have this matter settled before her return,'

Benedek said quickly, stifling a slight catch in his voice.

The swords arrived and the men made a few practice

lunges and parries, then took up positions facing each other.

The King stood between them.

'Are you both resolved to see this matter of honour

through to

its end?'

'We are,' they said in unison.

The King stepped back. 'Then begin -'

'Is there something we have missed?' Green-8 wondered.

He was rolling up and down the control room giving a very

human display of impatience, while the Doctor studied the

screen before him with furrow lines deeply etched across his

brow.

'At the moment we are doing all we can by trying to find

out more about these control systems; the Doctor said

absently, his eyes and fingers still flicking across the screens

and keyboard. 'We don't know the nature of the threat we're

facing or why only a few of the robots have been mobilised.

Is that intentional? There's a defence sub-system associated

with the shield functions but it appears to be completely

dead. Is there a back-up? If I can determine the energisation

matrix for the shield it might be a start.' Green-8 had stopped

by the sub-bay controlling the entertainment and

environmental systems for the Palace. He looked closer at

the displays and cautiously pressed a few keys.

'Doctor, I have discovered an anomaly Why is a sub-

system labelled "Imaging" drawing so much power? It is not

part of the lighting grid and I do not see what other use there

would be for power in a building with no other technological

amenities.'

'Curious... ' the Doctor agreed, opening the imaging

system files at the master console.

A succession of architectural details flashed across the

screen, including graceful spires and minarets similar to

those they had seen capping the Palace roofs. The Doctor

gave a short laugh.

'Instant building features to personalise your residence,

without going to the trouble of having the workman in.

Hologramatic illusions, like the panel that concealed the lift

door - of course! So was the kitchen fire with the meat

cooking on it!'

'How do you know?'

'That's what was missing - all that fat bubbling and spitting

but producing no smell. Now, what else is listed... Sprites?

What are they?' A familiar figure in a hat appeared on the

screen. 'So that's what Boots was... I wonder...' A primly

dressed girl appeared. 'And Luci Longlocks. They were both

APSs.'

'I am not familiar with the acronym'

'Autonomous Photonic Simulations. Mobile illusions based

around a small projector unit. Most of the time they have no

actual substance but they can interact with material objects if

a force field is synchronised with the photonic pattern.' He

looked thoughtfully at Green-8. 'I wonder what else this sort

of trickery has been concealing round here? Only one way to

find out...'

The shouts of the onlookers and the clash of steel against

steel guided a curious Oralissa through the garden to the site

of the duel. For a moment she did not realise who was

fighting for the press of bodies. Then she glimpsed Benedek

and Stephon, their shirts both slashed and bloodied, circling

each other with grim determination.

With a cry of horror, Oralissa pushed her way to her

mother's side. 'What's happening? They must not fight. They

are good men.'

'There is nothing you can do to stop them, child; her

mother consoled her. 'This is an affair grown out of

longstanding rivalry. When it is done... you will not have a

choice to make...'

Words failed Oralissa and she could only stare

incredulously at the duelling men. A horrible sense of her own

impotence overtook her. This was how it always would end.

Her fate had never been in her hands...

The wild shout of a servant running up to them from the

direction of the Palace rose above the sounds of combat.

There was something so arresting about the fear in his voice

and wildness in his eyes that it even distracted a few of the

onlookers from the duel.

'Your Majesty; the man gasped...the Palace...the

rooms...towers...'

Her father gaped at him. 'In God's name what, man?'

'Gone! All just... gone!'

The statement was so bizarre that Oralissa instinctively

glanced in the direction of the Palace whose tallest spires

should have been visible over the hedge tops.

They had vanished!

She heard a shriek from the rear of the crowd, but could

not identify its source. A thrill of unearthly dread seemed to

flow through the watchers. Then came another cry.

The disturbance must have distracted Duke Stephon. For

an instant his eyes flicked sideways as though trying to locate

the cause of the sound.

Benedek lunged in unthinking reflex, taking advantage of

the slightest opening in his opponent's guard. The point of his

sword thrust deep into Stephon's chest.

A look of surprise passed over the Duke's face as the

crowd gasped. Benedek jerked his sword free. The Duke's

knees gave and he started to collapse -

Then his body appeared to dim and fall in upon itself. In a

moment Stephon was gone and in his place was a grey metal

ball, a little larger than a clenched fist, studded all over with

small glass beads. For a fraction of a second the ball hung in

the air, then it dropped to the ground with a soft thud, rolled

over and was still.

Incredulous silence ruled the glade as the watchers' minds

tried to find expression for what they had seen. Dazed,

Benedek prodded the ball with the tip of his sword, then

looked round helplessly, as though to say: I didn't do this.

Then he dimmed and vanished and a second sphere fell

to the grass.

The spell broke and the people fled howling in blind terror

from the incredible transformation they had witnessed. But

there was no escape.

Even as they ran they began winking out of existence, one

by one with increasing rapidity, their voices cut off in mid cry.

More spheres dropped from the air, still travelling in the

direction the person had been when the doom had fallen

upon them. They bounced and rolled on a little way before

coming to rest.

Oralissa saw her father shouting for the guards even as he

reached out an arm towards her - then he dimmed and was

gone. She screamed into her mother's face and saw the

helpless dread reflected in her eyes as she hugged her

protectively, futilely, to her bosom.

Then Oralissa was clasping at thin air and another sphere

lay at her feet.

A dreadful calm descended over the garden.

Oralissa was standing alone amongst the scattered

spheres, as though they were a field of mushrooms that had

magically sprouted on the lawn.

She opened her mouth to scream again, to surrender

herself to utter terror -

The last sphere dropped to the ground... and the rest was

silence.

Chapter Twenty-four

Dynes was roused by the sound of the activity alarm.

He'd allowed himself half an hour of natural sleep while

little seemed to be happening outside, as a rest from the pills

he'd been taking to stay awake. He'd have to make up for the

artificially induced alertness later, of course, but it was the

price you paid for getting the best story.

Dynes tilted the pilot's couch back upright and scanned

the row of monitor screens.

The two additional DAVEs he had sent after Peri Brown's

party had caught up with her borrowed transport and were

riding in the cab. They were ready to take up station as soon

as they reached the Palace. Another DAVE was watching

Thorn Tree in case the villagers did anything newsworthy,

such as attempt to fight Judd with their primitive weapons.

The rest of the drones were still positioned about the

overgrown landing field.

The screen that had triggered the alert was displaying the

feed from a DAVE he'd left scanning the sky above the

deserted spaceport. It had detected a point of light almost

directly overhead. Dynes switched the image through to the

main screen.

A ball of fire was dropping out of the clouds, blazing

brilliantly against the dull glow of the sky. As it fell it shed

lesser fragments that spun away from the central mass

trailing twisting streamers of smoke. The flashes of minor

explosions sparkled amidst the debris.

As Dynes watched, a stubby deltaform object which had

been tumbling just below the central fireball and silhouetted

by its glare, slowed its wild gyrations and banked unsteadily

out of the path of the descending inferno. Automatically

Dynes zoomed the camera in on the dark shape.

It was a Protectorate military landing craft.

Dynes left one DAVE tracking the fireball and set another

on the landing craft.

'Recording!' he snapped at his personal drone. 'I'm

watching a fantastic sight in the skies over the mystery

planet. What looks like a mass of burning wreckage is

hurtling towards the ground, together with a Protectorate

lander apparently in difficulties...' Even as he spoke, the

landing craft's wings extended and bit into the air. Its rate of

fall slowed and it turned onto a long controlled spiral descent

path, circling over the dark forest and keeping well clear of

the spray of falling debris.

'Wait... the landing craft appears to have regained control.

I think it's going to be able to set down safely... which is more

than can be said for the wreck plunging to its doom before

my eyes. What vessel was it, and does its startling

appearance have some connection with Protector Judd's

delay in initiating his invasion? What has been going on up

there in space on the other side of the force field? Hopefully

I'll discover the truth in just a few minutes...'

The lander was circling lower, holding its distance from the

spaceport. No doubt they were registering the Stop Press's

transponder signal, but were also wary of resistance from the

defenders they imagined occupied the port. Judd wouldn't

take unnecessary risks...

A frightening thought struck Dynes. What if Judd was in

the wreck?

That would be a disaster - it would effectively be the end of

Dynes' series. Judd had never nominated a successor. There

might be a power struggle amongst Judd's senior staff, but

though they were efficient commanders, none of them had

his force of character that made him so telegenic. The ratings

would plummet!

The blazing wreck hit the forest barely two kilometres

away, the tearing thunder of its descent merging onto a

booming explosion which threw up a brief-lived fountain of

burning debris. With terrible majesty, a billowing, fire-laced

mushroom cloud rose over the treetops, which were tossed

and torn aside by the expanding airborne blast front.

Seconds later the Stop Press trembled as the ground

shockwave generated by the impact passed under it.

The lander made a low reconnaissance pass over the

spaceport, then swung around, extending its landing legs.

Please let Judd be alive, Dynes thought as he made for

the hatchway. For the record he said: 'I'm going out to meet

the lander, which I hope contains Protector Judd...'

Dynes was standing by the hangar wearing his regular

reporting costume of black fedora and trench-coat when the

lander touched down. Half the craft was scorched and

blackened, but the hull appeared to be intact.

Ramps dropped and columns of armoured soldiers

emerged, pounding across the vine-encrusted concrete as

they fanned out to form a protective ring about their craft,

weapons pointed at the surrounding forest. The lander's

upper gun turret rotated in restless jerks, as though questing

for a target in the shadows. But all remained still and placid;

the only change from the scene which had greeted Dynes

when he landed was the distant column of smoke from the

crash site.

Judd, imposing as ever in his powered armour, strode

down the ramp and looked around him in an attitude of

suspicious interest. After studying the deserted port buildings

for a few moments, he stomped over to Dynes. From the

composed set of his features no one would suspect that his

ship had almost been destroyed only minutes earlier.

'Protector, it looked as though you had a narrow escape

just then,' Dynes said, launching immediately into interview

mode. 'Can you explain what happened?'

'An accident during the passage though the shield caused

the regrettable loss of part of my landing force,' Judd

explained curtly.

Was this accident in any way related to the delay in

launching your attack?'

Judd frowned. 'What delay, Mr Dynes?'

'Well, it's been almost two standard days since I came

through the shield tunnel and -'

Judd glowered dangerous through the visor of his helmet.

‘What sort of nonsense are you talking, Dynes? We went

through the shield hardly more than five minutes behind you'

Dynes blinked. 'Pardon me, Protector, but I know how long

I've been here. You can examine my ship's chronometer if

you wish' They both stared at each other in bafflement.

'Protector,' Dynes said slowly, 'I think you'd better take a

look inside this hangar...'

Judd was obviously perplexed by the presence of the ancient

Esselvanian ship and the state of the spaceport, but he

concealed it well from the cameras and did not waste any

further time in idle speculation. As tanks and armoured

personnel carriers disembarked from the lander, he gave a

brisk statement for the record.

'I cannot explain the apparent paradox we have

experienced, nor the conditions we find here, but it does not

affect my immediate plans. As our only remaining means of

aerial transport, the lander will remain grounded until we

ascertain the status of local air defences. Other

emplacements may not be in the same state of disrepair as

these.' Judd glanced at the skies. 'It may be that the

discontinuity has closed, preventing the remainder of my

beachhead force from making planetfall. Since the shield

blocks communications with space, we cannot confirm this.

Our first objective, therefore, is to locate and secure the

shield controls and stabilise the discontinuity, allowing

reinforcements to be landed. Then we will proceed to detain

Hathold and his followers as previously planned.

'Your investigations amongst the forest primitives has

identified an important structure located to the local north of

this position, which may contain what we are after. This road,

once obviously a significant transportation artery, also leads

in the same direction. Therefore we shall follow it to its

destination.'

Judd turned on his heel and strode off to the line of

armoured vehicles, which had now formed up, and climbed

aboard the leading APC. With a deep hum of heavy motors,

the force moved off. A couple of DAVEs glided along in their

wake. Low-slung, tracked robotic scouts moved ahead of the

main column, extending their scanners and mine-detecting

antenna as they went.

Dynes turned to camera.

'And so Judd sets off on what might be the last chapter of

this saga. In a few hours we'll know if he has finally tracked

down the man who has eluded him for so long.'

The last of the column vanished down the gloomy aisle

and Dynes was alone again in the derelict spaceport, except

for the lander and its skeleton crew. With a sudden

inexplicable shiver, Dynes made his way back inside the Stop

Press.

As he sat watching the multiple images relayed from his

scattered drones, Dynes brooded.

He was not often concerned by the principles of

professional conduct, but he had an image as an impartial

reporter to maintain. He had shown Judd excerpts from the

material he had obtained in the village because he didn't

want the man wasting even more time pointlessly searching

the woods when the obvious objective was this Palace to the

north. Unfortunately Judd had mentioned the fact at a point in

his speech that would be hard to edit. Dynes' action might be

interpreted as providing information of military value.

Of course, it was only information that Judd could have

obtained for himself from the villagers - probably at the point

of a gun. So he'd really done them a favour. Dynes

brightened. Yes, he could play up the humanitarian angle in

the final report. A technical breach of the professional code to

avoid the risk of bloodshed. That would run well.

Fortunately he had been able to give Judd a summary of

the information he'd obtained from Pert Brown without having

to identify her or explain her presence. It would only confuse

matters further, and they were tangled enough as it was.

Dynes' mood darkened again. He had not revealed before

his cameras the full depth of his unease about this place, nor

some of the wilder theories his imagination was throwing up.

Now there was the apparent disparity between the time that

had passed down here for him and that in orbit for Judd.

Taken in conjunction with his discovery of the ship in the

hangar, it might be the making of an incredible story - or else

a complete waste of time if it proved to be based on some

subtle misreading of the facts. The trouble was he didn't yet

know which.

Stop speculating and focus on the story in hand, he told

himself.

Probably the gloomy surroundings were getting on his

nerves. He'd like to have hopped his ship over to the day side

and recorded some of the gardens Peri Brown had

described. They sounded much more photogenic than this

forest. But that would have to wait until any fighting was over.

Like Judd, he didn't trust the local skies to be safe.

On a DAVE screen he watched the oddly assorted group

in the dumper truck cabin. The scavengers were obviously

still nervous of their surroundings, while Pert Brown

concentrated on keeping the huge vehicle under control. The

girl had determination, he'd grant her that. And looks, of

course. Perhaps something particularly newsworthy would

happen to her soon.

They must be getting near the Palace by now. And if all

went well, Judd would be joining them not long after. Then

things would start to happen and Dynes' cameras would be

there to record every last detail.

When you came down to it, that was all that really

mattered.

Chapter Twenty-five

'It was all an illusion,' Green-8 said.

'So it would appear,' the Doctor agreed.

They stood in what had been the Palace's banqueting hall.

Now the walls were bare of wooden panels, the ceiling empty

of beams, the windows no longer leaded. The tables and

chairs were arranged as before, but now they were revealed

as metal and some dense synthetic material. The floor looked

like polished concrete, but was in fact warm and slightly

resilient.

As far as they could tell the same transformation had

taken place throughout the Palace. Shorn of its false spires

and towers it was no longer a medieval - styled castle but a

spacious modern mansion. Neither was there any trace of the

costumed guests and servants they had seen inhabiting the

building earlier, except...

The Doctor picked up one of the metal spheres studded

with lenses that was lying on the floor and examined it with

interest. There were more strewn about the path. outside the

garden doors.

'What is that?' Green-8 asked.

'An APS projector. Supported by a small force beam and

linked by data relay to the computers downstairs, it generates

photonic images such as we saw. Very convincing ones too.'

Frowning thoughtfully he tucked the sphere into one of his

coat's capacious pockets.

Was this a deliberate deception?' Green-8 wondered. And

who was it intended to fool?'

'I'm not sure, but I have an idea... Back downstairs.'

Seated again at the control board, the Doctor started

tapping keys.

'Of course, this would be quicker if I knew the specific title.

I'll just have to set it searching for the type of thing I'm after...

ahha!'

The opening page of a new programme appeared on the

screen. Green-8 read the first few lines.

'"The Princess of Aldermar, by Retorian Mellenger. A

romance of the Chevallion Era, telling of the divided love of a

beautiful princess for two suitors which ends in tragedy.

Adapted from the famous play for fully interactive viewer

participation..."' Green-8 looked at the Doctor. 'This is a

construction of fiction.'

'Yes, a living play,' the Doctor said, scanning rapidly

through the programme description. 'People could dress up

and act out supporting parts, or follow certain characters

through the story as they came together. It might run over

several days in real time. Existing locations could be modified

to suit the period by the same method. Expensive

entertainment, but whoever lived here could obviously afford

it.

'There was probably some leeway in the detail but the

basic plot would have to stay the same. My attempt to warn

the King didn't fit in with the story so they tried to get rid of me

as quickly as possible while remaining in character. Robots

didn't fit into the period either, so we were effectively invisible'

He touched more keys. 'This programme has apparently

been set to repeat itself every ten days. I wonder how many

times it's run in total?'

'Where are the people who would have used such a

programme?' Green-8 wondered.

The Doctor shrugged. 'Possibly in the cold room next door.

They're certainly not living here now.'

Green-8 seemed to sag and his head bowed in a very

human way. 'Were there ever any great Lords?' he said in a

muted voice. 'Have I, and my fellow robots, been living a lie?'

'I'm sorry,' the Doctor said.

There was a long silence. Then Green-8 began to rock

back and forth, making a harsh braying sound.

'Are you all right?' the Doctor asked anxiously, scrambling

out of his chair to stand beside the stricken robot.

'No... yes' Green-8 straightened up and the Doctor

realised he had been laughing. 'I... think I understand what

you call humour, now. It is a strange release. What an

absurdity! We have been supplying illusions with food for

thousands of work periods! Then the Blue Sector robots

would return it for composting!'

'Most probably. They must have kept things tidy around

here. They would have treated the APSs as real people, but

since they didn't fit in with the structure of the play they were

largely ignored, as we discovered'

'Yes, I see the logic of it now. But it does not help us. An

enemy approaches and this world... my world, seems

unprepared. Please advise me, Doctor. What do we do?'

An alarm filled the silence between them and screens

came to life automatically over the master console.

'It may be too late to do anything,' the Doctor said gravely.

Views of the gateway through which they had entered the

palace grounds were being displayed. As before the gates

were wide open, but now without even the illusion of guards

to man them. Even as they watched, blue robots rolled

rapidly forward and slammed the heavy gates shut.

They were just in time. A large vehicle was approaching

along the western road.

The belt of moorland ended where a broad gravel road

running east to west cut across it. Beyond this was a high

wall, topped in the further distance by trees.

'It is the great wall that rings the Lords' Palace,' Kel said,

peering through the windshield of the truck.

'So we're getting somewhere at last,' Peri said with

satisfaction. 'Let's see if we can find a way in.'

She swung the truck round to the left and sent it racing

along the road, throwing up sprays of gravel from its huge

wheels. The wall curved over the deceptive horizon towards

them and rolled monotonously past without a break.

'Will the Lords let us enter?' Raz said nervously.

'After what I've been through nothing's going to stop me

going right to the top; King, Nabob, Lord-high-whoever!' Peri

said grimly. 'And you guys speak up for yourselves as well.

They don't deserve any bowing and scraping after the way

they've treated your people. Hey, this looks like it...'

A high pillared gateway with attendant gatehouses had

appeared. Peri swung the truck round and came to a halt with

its front grille almost touching the heavy gates that barred

further progress. There was no sign of life from within the

gatehouses, not any movement in the rolling parkland they

could see beyond.

Peri found the button for the truck's horn and a klaxon

blast rent the air, making her passengers flinch in alarm. She

pumped the button impatiently, but to no avail.

'Okay, if they want to play dumb...' Peri said, gritting her

teeth. She backed the truck up a little way, then put her foot

down. The huge vehicle surged forward and struck the gates

with a clang. There was snapping of steel and a rending of

stonework. The gates burst open, tearing free of their mounts

and crashing to the ground. The truck careered on up the

driveway unhindered.

'Try to ignore that!' Peri yelled, with the guilty thrill of one

who has just committed major property damage in a worthy

cause.

A bolt of fire flashed out from under the trees ahead and

exploded against the engine cowling, blowing a panel free

and enveloping the cab in a cloud of acrid smoke.

'Heads down!' Peri yelled, wrenching the steering yoke

over and sending the vehicle bouncing off the road and

tearing gouges out of the turf.

More bolts exploded against the truck. A side window

blackened and shattered as it was burnt through. A DAVE

flew out through the jagged aperture to get a better view of

the attackers and was blasted from the air. Peri swung the

truck round, trying to find a clear path out of the ambush. But

the gunfire seemed to be coming from every direction. They

were surrounded. There was no escape.

The truck swerved wildly as a rear tyre blew out. Her

passengers yelled as they were thrown to the floor. A firebolt

passed dean through the cab, burning a hole through a

second hovering DAVE. Smoke was wreathing the truck.

Only its sheer bulk and rugged construction was keeping it

going.

Then Peri saw one of their attackers for the first time. A

humanoid robot was standing in the shadow of a tree pointing

an odd looking rifle. Instinctively Peri drove the truck straight

at it.

The rifle blazed and the windscreen blackened and

shattered. Then there was a metallic impact, a bang from the

underbody and the robot vanished. Warning lights were

flashing on the dashboard, but they were through their

attackers' line.

Peri expected parting shots or some sort of pursuit, but the

fusillade suddenly ceased as abruptly as it started. The

pockmarked and blistered truck ploughed on, bouncing back

onto the driveway again, its burst tyre flapping and thudding

around its hub.

'Everyone all right back there?' Peri called over her

shoulder.

Kel sat up groaning. He was holding a battered DAVE unit.

'I fell on one of the flying things. Is it broken?'

'Looks like it. Well done. Throw it out the window.'

'Are we going to the Palace?' Nerla asked.

'Nowhere else to go,' Peri said. 'I hope we can get there

before they regroup - uh oh._.'

There was a standard model robot by the side of the drive

ahead. But it was unarmed, and instead of trying to stop them

it was waving them onward vigorously and pointing to

indicate they should keep going.

Peri slowed the truck uncertainly, then shrugged and

continued on. Nobody would try to sucker them into a trap so

clumsily, she thought. Maybe somebody wanted to talk

sensibly at last.

As they passed, the robot waved cheerfully.

The long drive wound its way through the rolling parkland

until a large building came into view. It was a comfortably

sprawling structure with many windows, gently pitched roofs,

wide eves and two enclosing wings.

'Is that.. it?' Raz breathed. Kel clutched his spear more

tightly and Nerla's hand slipped to the scavenged knife at her

belt.

'We'll find out in a moment', Peri said, trying to sound more

confident than she felt.

The drive lead up to a broad sweep of gravel. A low flight

of steps led up to the main doors. There was a distinctive

figure standing on the steps...

Peri braked the truck in a shower of gravel, almost fell out

of the cabin and dashed towards the steps, her arms held

wide. 'Doctor!' she yelled in delight.

Dynes scowled in frustration at the three dark screens.

A dramatic action event and he had no climax. Did Peri

Brown and her companions escape or not? Who were their

attackers? The viewers wouldn't accept that unless he came

up with a satisfying conclusion. He also might have lost

Brown, who was appealingly photogenic and would have

scored high viewer approval. Well, he'd just have to hope he

could find suitable material later.

Even worse, the three drones assigned to cover Judd's

attack from inside the Palace grounds were lost. He'd have to

send replacements and hope they got there before Judd.

He rapidly checked over the deployment of his drones.

Yes, he could leave one here at the spaceport in case the

rest of Judd's beachhead force arrived or the lander was

called in to support the assault on the Palace. Another screen

confirmed that the Thorn Tree villagers weren't doing much

except gathering in extra food and looking anxious. The

DAVE he'd left there could be sent off to the Palace. He had

the route recorded and it was nearer than the others.

Dynes gave the machines their new assignments, then sat

back in his chair and chewed on a high-energy snack meal.

At least the loss of the three drones proved there was

somebody at the Palace ready to put up some resistance to

intruders. With any luck he'd have a decent battle to report.

For a moment the Doctor's broad, caring smile beamed down

on Peri and she basked in its warmth. It told of his relief at

seeing her safe once again in a way that words could not.

Then, mercurially, his schoolmasterly manner reasserted

itself and he frowned at the ragged remains of her dress.

'You seem to be incredibly dishevelled,' he observed.

'I came economy class,' Peri said with a grin.

'You should have stayed in that ha-ha until I came back for

you.'

'I know...' She hugged him again and buried her face in his

tasteless patchwork coat so he couldn't see her tears of

relief. 'You seem to have done all right for yourself,' she said.

'Quite the lord of the manor.'

The only one currently in residence, certainly. The others

turned out to be APSs.'

'What?'

'Autonomous Photonic Simulations - it's a complicated

story and I don't know all the details.'

'Bet it doesn't beat mine.' Peri pulled herself together.

'Listen, this planet is going to be invaded any time now!'

'Oh, I know about that.'

'But do you know the head man's name, and where he's

likely to land, and what he's after? I do'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Quite the mine of information'

'I learned a whole bunch of stuff from an old acquaintance

of ours - Dexel Dynes'

The Doctor's face fell. 'Not him again! I think you'd better

come inside. And bring your friends'

Peri realised the others had been hanging back, watching

the impromptu reunion uncertainly. Peri beckoned them on.

'It's all right. This is my friend the Doctor. Doctor, meet Kel,

Nerla and Raz.' They stepped inside. Peri looked about at the

impressive entrance hall. 'Doctor, how did you end up here?'

'By way of an unplanned train journey and meeting a most

amiable garden robot by the name of Green-8.'

'A friendly gardener! Tell me more...'

The three scavengers gaped at the underground control

room and then started at the sight of a garden robot with a

cable running from a socket in the side of his chestplate to

the control board. The Doctor made the necessary

introductions.

'This is Green-8, who's been an invaluable companion

over the last few hectic days. You might also thank him for

halting the attack on you by the guard robots'

'I apologise for the delay, Peri Brown,' Green-8 said. 'It

took us a little time to establish a connection to the command

net and override the guards, pre-programmed instructions'

Uh, sure, right,' Peri said. 'Thanks for calling them off.' She

looked at the Doctor. 'So there aren't any actual people here?

I thought this was where the local Lords are supposed to

hang out'

'Perhaps only in spirit now,' the Doctor said dryly. 'There

are some well-preserved bodies in a storage locker but we're

not sure who they were. The entities everybody has been

assuming were the ruling Lords turned out to be APSs that

were part of an inter active historical drama. They convinced

the robots they were real people, even making them think this

was Esselven, the world where the play was originally set.

Bolwig's troupe were part of the same programme'

'That bunch? They looked like comedians'

'The comic relief to accentuate the tragedy. A different

programme but the same means generated our mischievous

friend Boots, and a charming young lady called Luci

Longlocks.'

'Luci?' Peri exclaimed 'We met her. She was quite pally at

first, then she slipped away like a ghost'

lust a sophisticated children's minder and playmate

following her programming,' the Doctor said 'The only other

thinking being on the planet, apart from the scavengers,

seems to be Green-8, who evolved sentience independently.

He also wanted to have a few words with the Lords. Like you

he's been disappointed'

Kel's face had creased with effort as he tried to follow the

Doctor's words. 'No Lords here?' he said.

Peri shrugged. 'Sorry, Kel. It looks like it's all been a big

misunderstanding. But we've still got a problem. There's a

guy called Glavis Judd, who sounds like a regular dictator

and megalomaniac ... '

The Doctor listened gravely to Peri's summary of the

information she had obtained from Dynes. Then he seated

himself before a control panel and started working a

keyboard.

'There is a considerable computer library here,' he said.

'Now I have a name, perhaps I can find out more about this

Judd person. It-may help us formulate some sort of strategy.'

Text and images rolled rapidly across the screen. A

biography of Judd, the rise of the Protectorate, parades of

weapons, the encroachment on Esselvanian space,

preparations for war...

The Doctor's face set in a stern mask as he scanned the

information, barely containing his anger. As the last entry

trailed off, he said simply: 'Glavis Judd must not be allowed to

continue!'

Such absolute condemnation coming from a Time Lord

held a frightening note of finality which made Peri shiver. She

said: 'But look, there's no king or royal family here now, even

if there ever was. Once Judd learns that, maybe he'll simply

go away.'

The Doctor shook his head sadly at this display of

optimism. 'Can you be sure he'll simply leave this world in

peace? And even if he does, he will go away to spread his

so-called "Protectorate" still further. He must be stopped...

but how?'

Even as he brooded the screen flickered. The text they

had been viewing was replaced by what looked like an

elaborate coat of arms. Lion-like beasts stood rampant on

either side of a symbolic rising sun.

'Hey, what's happening?' Peri asked.

'Another programme seems to be running automatically,'

the Doctor said. ‘It may have been activated by the

information search we've just made...'

The coat of arms was replaced by a man's head and

shoulders. He had once been a handsome man, perhaps in

his early forties. But now his face was deathly pale, his eyes

were sunken and it seemed as though every breath he took

was painful. But there was a defiant fire within him that

transcended his pain and gave him the strength to speak.

'This is my last message to you, my dear wife and

children,' he said, his voice little more than a husky whisper. 'I

don't know how long it will be before you view this, but you

should know what has happened here...'

His face crumpled as a fit of coughing overcame him. He

wiped his lips with a tissue and it came away stained with

blood. Recovering himself he continued.

'You remember we were trying to reinforce the shield. We

had linked the solar grid with the reserve reactors under the

Palaces. The engineers thought they could make the Retreat

impervious to attack from space. Something went wrong...

there was a power surge. The reactors under the Winter

Palace went into meltdown and it was totally destroyed. That

was when we had to evacuate the Summer Palace, except

for the essential technical staff. They were brave men and

women. I had to stay with them. We finally controlled the

reactors here... but not before we were irradiated...'

He was wracked by another fit of coughing.

'We are all dying and there is nothing more that can be

done for us. But we know we live on through you, our

families. That is our comfort.

'We have reprogrammed the robots as best we can. I hope

the systems were not too badly damaged. They will maintain

the Palace until it is safe for you to return. A year or two,

perhaps. You must stay in the garden houses until then. If

Judd does not find you, then eventually you will repair the

ship. Find other worlds who will fight his tyranny. Free

Esselven... not for the crown, but for its people. They deserve

better than the Protectorate. The city vaults will wait for the

rightful heirs to return. They will open to your body patterns

alone. While Judd is denied what they contain he cannot truly

rule...

'These are the last words of Hathold, King of Esselven...

husband and father. I love you all. Goodbye.

The screen went blank.

There was a long silence in the control room.

'Doctor,' Peri said. 'He was sitting in this control room

wasn't he, and talking about being irradiated Is this place

safe?

The Doctor examined a secondary display. 'Normal

background level only,' he assured her. 'You're quite safe'

Kel said: 'Who was that man?'

The Doctor was working the keys with a ferocious look of

concentration, so Peri answered.

'A king named Hathold, apparently. One of the real Lords. I

think his family used to live here'

'He must be amongst the bodies in the cold store,' Green-

8 said helpfully. 'The Palace robots would have placed them

there after they died'

Peri was frowning, looking at Kel and trying to picture an

image of Hathold. 'Say, did anybody else notice how much

Hathold and Kel look alike?' she said.

Kel looked blank but Nerla nodded tentatively. 'It is true.

He and Kel are almost like man and son'

'But he can't be related,' Peri said immediately, aware she

was virtually contradicting herself. 'You can't have forgotten

who you are so quickly. Anyway, your people must have been

living in the wild woods for hundreds of years.'

'Kel is not Hathold's son,' the Doctor said, turning away

from the keyboard to fix them with a look of triumph. 'But he

might be his grandson many times removed.'

'What?' Peri exclaimed.

'All your friends here are probably related to the royal line

to a greater or lesser degree. I understand there are relatively

few scavengers and in such a small gene pool there would

inevitably be considerable interbreeding and consequent

conservation of individual characteristics, such as facial

features.'

'Doctor!' Peri said. 'What are you talking about?'

'There is a time code on that recording. I have compared it

with the current date shown on main system timebase.

Hathold left his message over 500 years ago!'

Chapter Twenty-six

The armoured column rolled steadily along the overgrown

road that bored through the gloomy forest.

Where the way was blocked by fallen trees they were

dragged aside, after being checked by the drone scouts for

possible booby traps. The gun turrets of the tanks and APCs

turned constantly as their targeting sensors probed the

woods for any sign of ambush. The troops were tense and

expectant, weapons at the ready.

But nothing happened.

Inside his APC Judd stared intently ahead, almost willing

an attack, for some show of force that would prove this was

the right place. But the road looked as though it had been

unused for years. The apparent paradox of the ship

scratched at the corners of his mind. Perhaps he had been

wrong. What if this was not Hathold's retreat?

No! This had to be the end of his quest. He would not be

cheated again. The keys of Esselven were here... he could

feel it.

'Five hundred years,' Peri repeated dumbly.

'Five hundred years by the calendar of Esselven, of

course, rather than here on Esselven Minor, as we might call

it,' the Doctor said. 'But they're almost the same length as

those you grew up with.'

'But Dynes said Judd invaded Esselven only a bit over a

year ago'

'I'm sure that's correct. And the royal family and their

retainers fled here, where they tried to modify their planetary

shield. And that's what caused the paradox.

The files show this world is circling close to a white dwarf

star. The planetary shield was initially intended to contain the

atmosphere and filter the sun's radiation to make life here

possible. Then Hathold's engineers tried to increase its

defensive capabilities. It was a dangerous place to attempt

such an experiment.

'Intense gravity distorts time and space to a significant

extent, and this world not only orbits close to the massive

gravity well of a star, but has a high density core of its own.

When they tried to modify the shield it must have

overstressed the continuum in a place where it was already

weak. The shield became a boundary both in space and time.

On the inside time passes approximately 500 times more

rapidly than normal. That's why the TARDIS could not locate

our position, and why the sun here appears red. What light

from it is allowed through the shield is spread, so to speak,

across time, reducing its energy and shifting its wavelength.

'Consequently, Kel is one of Hathold's descendents, yet he

doesn't know it'

The three scavengers looked bemused. Pen pinched the

bridge of her nose, just about keeping up. 'The scavengers

have legends of rejection by lords and sun gods. I suppose

that's a version of what actually happened distorted by

hundreds of years re-telling?'

'Quite likely,' the Doctor agreed. 'We can deduce the

sequence of events.

'After the accident the survivors had no proper place of

refuge. The Winter Palace had been destroyed and the ship

was useless. From Dynes' description, the accident must

have cut the power to the spaceport and without engineers

they couldn't make repairs. Neither could they shelter in the

garden houses as planned. The robots' programmes had

been corrupted, incidentally leading to some odd behaviour

such as obsessive garden building and curious anomalies

like the misplaced ha-ha. They wouldn't let the survivors stay

in the gardens, or even help support them. Their Lives very

quickly became a struggle for survival and they ended up

living in the woods on the dark side of the planet, which the

robots virtually ignored. The truth of their situation gradually

degenerated into myth. The spaceport was probably

associated with their rejection and became a taboo place.

The historical APS play must have been triggered by

another system error soon after this and began to run

constantly. Gradually the players took over the Palace, which

had automatically been modified for the production. They

were much more convincing as Lords than the real survivors

and the robots accepted them, treating the real heirs as

scavengers and illusions as real people. And that is where we

came in some 500 local years later.'

Kel, Nerla and Raz had been struggling to follow the

explanation. Nerla said hesitantly: 'We are all... children of

the Lords?'

'Looks like it,' said Peri.

Green-8's voice sounded hollow. 'My kind has inflicted

great suffering on those we were designed to serve' He

looked at the three scavengers. 'I am sorry.'

'Not your fault, Green-8,' the Doctor said quickly.

'Doctor,' Peri said, 'if the scavengers are the descendants

of the royal family, then will they still be able to open this

body-pattern vault, even after all these generations?'

'Very possibly,' the Doctor said.

'And if Judd finds out about them...'

'Exactly. The biographical files said he is highly intelligent.

If he discovers what has happened here or works it out for

himself, he will not let the scavengers rest. He may already

know about them if he is as close to Dynes as you say. Then

there's the matter of the planetary shield. By chance

Hathold's engineers stumbled on something that would have

a military application. If Judd has already attacked the shield

from space, he knows how powerful it is' He looked round the

control room. 'If necessary we must destroy this entire

complex and the generating system to prevent the knowledge

falling into Judd's hand.'

'Then let's stop talking and do something!' Peri said.

'We shall, but not precipitately,' said the Doctor, turning

back to the control board. 'First, let us see where this

spaceport is located relative to the Palace. It might be useful

to know from which direction Judd will be coming.'

A large screen displayed a globe of the tiny world. The

Doctor rotated it until the dark side was revealed.

'I guess that's the place Dynes talked about, right in the

middle,' Peri said. 'And that looks like a road running straight

from there to here.' She looked at the image scale, realising

once again what a tiny world this was. 'He could be here in a

couple of hours!'

'We detected activity in a discontinuity in the planetary

shield over the dark side a little earlier,' the Doctor said. 'I

think we can assume that Judd has landed by now. If he was

making an aerial assault he would already be here, so it's

likely he'll come overland, especially if he wishes to capture,

as he imagines, Hathold and his family alive' He frowned.

'Green-8, can you control all the robots through your data

link?'

'I am already doing so,' Green-8 replied calmly. 'I have

directed the Red Sector units to cease working the

scavengers under their control. They will be rested and given

what care can be provided. I did not think I needed to consult

with you.'

'Quite right, you didn't. Can you also have them locate my

travel machine that I described to you and have it brought

here? We may have a use for it.'

'Certainly. The tubeway link should be open now,' Green-8

said. 'It will not take long to bring your machine here.

'But even with the TARDIS we can't evacuate all the

scavengers,' Peri said. 'I saw the sort of weapons Judd has

on the files the same as you. A few robot guards aren't going

to stop tanks. They could hardly stop one dumper truck"

Kel interjected. 'This Judd is enemy of my father's father?'

'More or less,' the Doctor agreed.

'And he is coming to fight?'

'Yes;

'We can fight also!' He held his spear aloft. Raz and Nerla

cheered and waved their knives.

Peri smiled sadly at their futile show of bravado. They

didn't understand half of what was going on, but they had

guts. 'I'm afraid you're going to need better weapons than

those to fight Judd.'

'Perhaps we have such weapons,' Green-8 said.

They all looked at him. 'What do you mean?' the Doctor

asked.

'Peri Brown has given me an idea. We have weapons of a

sort - but I hesitate to use them. We talked of morals when

we first met, Doctor. I disabled robots in the garden knowing

they were not sentient, but is it ever right to inflict injury,

perhaps death, on sentient beings, to prevent greater harm

being done to others?'

'That is an eternal dilemma: the Doctor said gravely. 'The

answer is sometimes yes, if it is the last resort. But it is never

a decision to be taken lightly.'

'In your opinion, have we reached the last resort?'

The Doctor looked at the expectant faces around him. He

took a deep breath. 'Yes, I think so. Judd may cause

immediate harm to the scavengers and if left unchecked may

destroy the lives of millions of others'

'Then I will proceed. It may bring you time to find some

more complete solution.'

Ahh, I see: the Doctor said.

'But what's he doing?' Peri asked.

The Doctor looked mildly disappointed. 'Peri, just think for

a moment. Meanwhile, we must assess our resources and

see how they might be applied to stopping Judd, or at least

convincing him that there is nothing here of value'

Peri tried to match the Doctor's outward composure. 'Don't

forget Dynes. He'll be sending more of his drones to replace

the ones he lost. He wants to record the battle from both

sides. Whatever we do has got to take care of him as well.'

'I shall bear that in mind. Now, what are our assets?'

'Three young cavemen, a few robots and these APS

things,' Peri summarised. 'Can they fight?'

'Not very effectively, I imagine.' The Doctor pulled a lens-

studded sphere from his pocket. 'That's an APS projector. It

couldn't apply much actual physical force for long or it would

drain its battery and have to recharge.'

'I don't suppose some holo-trickery can hide the whole

Palace?'

'Rather a tall order, I'm afraid.'

'Maybe we could use the APSs as scouts?' Peri

suggested. 'At least we'd know where Judd was.'

'That is an idea.' The Doctor turned to the control board.

'I'll activate this unit and send it down the spaceport road.'

'Luci Longlocks didn't seem keen to go into the night side.'

'She didn't want to enter one of the gardeners' workshops

either. Probably programmed against it. I'm sure I can adjust

that. Green-8 and I viewed a range of simulations earlier,

including animal forms. Something four-legged might be

appropriate. It should be less conspicuous and naturally

move rapidly. As long as we can maintain its data link...'

A library of images flashed across the screen until the

Doctor stopped at one of a large dog. 'That should do.' He

checked the projector unit for its code number and assigned

it to the APS subprogramme. 'Now we put this on the floor

and stand back...'

'Are you sure you know what you're doing?' Peri asked.

'Of course. I'll just activate the programme '

The sphere rose into the air. The lenses glowed and the

form of a large dog materialised around it, wagging its tail

and lolling its tongue realistically.

Kel gasped. 'Magic!'

'Applied science,' the Doctor said firmly. 'Now, I'll just tell it

what to do

The dog suddenly yelped and contorted, as though it was

trying to bite its own back. Its form blurred and shimmered.

There was a frightened scream and then the figure of a

young woman in a flowing dress was crouched on the floor in

front of them.

Oralissa had been suspended in the limbo of a nightmare.

She was consciousness without form; deaf, dumb and

blind, yet tormented with the sense that all around her was

pulsating activity she could not see or hear. She had cried out

soundlessly for release from the eternity of nothingness to

which she had been consigned, but no answer came.

Was this death?

Then in the distance she thought she saw a faint light. By

some means she could not explain she moved towards it.

Dimly she sensed motion and sound and substance at its

core and longed to experience those things again. She

moved closer. Something was twisting her body, but she

fought back with all the force of her will, shrieking her

defiance.

Suddenly she could hear her own voice and feel her own

body about her. Sobbing uncontrollably with relief yet fearful

of what she might find, she opened her eyes...

She was crouched on the floor of a strange chamber

ranged about with incomprehensible furnishings. People

were watching her. Four ragged youths, a mechanical, a

strangely dressed man...

Her eyes fastened on the man. A familiar face... She

pointed a trembling finger. 'I saw you at the banquet... you

climbed into a mechanical...' She looked about her. 'What has

happened to me? Where is my family'

The man frowned in irritation. 'You shouldn't be here.'

'Doctor, can you be a little less insensitive!' one of the

ragged women scolded.

I am the Princess Oralissa of Aldermar,' Oralissa said. 'I

demand... I beg, you, tell me what has become of me?'

'It's all right, we aren't going to hurt you,' the young woman

said, laying a reassuring hand on Oralissa's shoulder.

Her hand passed through Oralissa's flesh without the

slightest sensation.

'Oh... of course,' the woman exclaimed, recoiling.

Oralissa wailed in horror. 'What have you done to me! God

save me, I'm dead... dead!'

The Doctor's hands were passing rapidly over the

strangely illuminated panel before him. 'I'm putting you back

in your proper place... there!'

Oralissa screwed up her eyes and clasped her head in her

hands. She could feel her form melting away, but she would

not go back to the terrible void of darkness.

'No! Not that - please!' she begged.

'You're hurting her, Doctor!' the young woman shouted.

The Doctor frowned. 'That should have worked, unless...

of course!' He passed his hands across the panel again,

saying urgently: 'Oralissa! I'm opening some data files...

some books, for you. Read them, then you'll understand.

Read them -'

Suddenly Oralissa's image was gone and the projector

dropped to the floor of the control room. As the others looked

at him in surprise the Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

'What did you do?' Peri asked.

'You kill ghost girl?' Nerla said.

'No, at least I hope not,' the Doctor said. 'Her programme

is back inside the computer. Hopefully, I've given her a

chance to learn what she really is.'

'Which is what?' Peri prompted.

The Doctor worked the keyboard. A bar chart appeared on

the screen, with names allocated to each block. King Edrin,

Queen Celestina, Prince Benedek...

Most did not fill half the space available, Peri saw, except

for one, which rose off the top of the chart. Princess Oralissa.

'That is the memory space allocated to each character

sub-programme in the interactive play in which Oralissa

starred,' the Doctor explained. 'Enough for simulated

intelligence, and some random storage space to compensate

for minor variations in the play caused by viewer

participation. Every time the play repeated they would be

wiped. However...'

A schematic diagram of computer system programmes

appeared. The Doctor pointed.

'Look, a narrow data bridge has formed between

Oralissa's memory block and the computer's general data

files. You might say she exists partly outside the play. Every

time it ran she's built up memories, mostly repetitious, that

weren't erased when the programme reset.' He looked at

Green-8. 'And now I think she's sentient.'

Peri, glancing at Green-8, asked doubtfully: 'Doctor, isn't

this sort of thing happening twice on one small world a bit

much?'

'It is not such a great coincidence as it may seem. The

special circumstances here have played their part: time,

repetitive behaviour, programmes unchecked for errors.

Green-8 developed his sentience partly through

unsupervised repair work. This computer system was not

designed to support sentience, but through repetition the

Princess's character, as defined by her original sub-

programme, has formed its own self-sustaining matrix within

it.'

'So what's she doing now?'

'Since her consciousness actually exists in the computer,

she should be able to access the data files I opened very

rapidly. I hope the information will help her come to terms

with what she is.'

'I always knew I was a machine,' Green-8 said. Tut she

believed she was a person. It may not be easy for her.'

Peri shook herself and looked at her watch. 'Hey, we're

getting sidetracked here! In case you've all forgotten, we've

got a heavily armed megalomaniac coming this way and

we've still no idea how to stop him!'

The glow of scientific discovery faded from the Doctor's

face. 'I had not forgotten. This does have a bearing on our

future actions concerning Judd. I said we might have to

destroy this control complex to keep certain knowledge from

him. We cannot now do this without effectively killing the

Princess.'

'Oh... I see,' Peri said slowly. 'That could be a problem -'

Without warning the APS projector rose into the air and

Oralissa appeared.

They looked at her uncertainly, but all trace of fear and

confusion was gone, replaced by a quiet composure. She

smiled pleasantly.

'Forgive my earlier outburst. I am quite all right now.'

'Are you sure you understand what you are?' the Doctor

said.

'I do,' Oralissa said simply. 'I know that this world is not

Esselven but a royal world estate situated amongst the stars.

Also that the reality I believed in was an illusion; a fiction of

times past created for the entertainment of those who dwelt

here. I have come to terms with all this and also how I came

to exist. I have cried for those I thought were my family, and

know now why they could not answer my questions...' She

gave a sad, wry smile. 'I am reconciled. This state of being is

strange, but it is greatly preferable to the madness or hell to

which I imagined I had been consigned. Now, may we be

properly introduced?'

The Doctor made the introductions. Oralissa seemed to

accept the oddly assorted group perfectly calmly.

'You look like you've got yourself together pretty quickly,'

Peri said, trying to adjust to Oralissa's change of character.

'Within the machine it has seemed as though many days

have passed since I first saw you all here,' Oralissa

explained. 'I spent a long time reading the files the Doctor

made accessible to me.

Much was beyond my understanding at first, but there

were other references to make things clearer. And it seems I

do not forget anymore, which is a great aid to learning.'

'Did you read the file on Glavis Judd?' the Doctor asked.

'Yes, and the history files and Palace records. Do I take it

he threatens this world also?'

'He's probably on his way here right now,' Peri said. 'We've

been trying to work out how to stop him.'

'I would like to help you if I can,' Oralissa said. 'I have seen

King Hathold's last message. It is very... moving. There are

recordings of his family stored in the general files. I

understand Judd is indirectly responsible for their premature

deaths.'

'Well thanks for the offer,' said Peri, 'but I'm not sure what

you can do. The Doctor says APSs can't fight.' She turned to

the Doctor. 'What about it, Doctor? I think we're about done

with characters popping out of plays, messages from the past

and history lessons. We've got an hour, maybe two at the

outside. How are we going to stop Judd?'

The Doctor beamed brightly at the ring of expectant faces,

then gradually his smile became fixed.

'At this moment,' he said, 'I honestly don't know.'

Chapter Twenty-seven

Judd's armoured column had travelled almost seventy

kilometres when the warning came through from one of the

drone scouts.

'Sir, activity in the woods to the east!' the operator

reported. 'Large vehicle detected... no, two vehicles... three

vehicles...'

'Stand by all gun crews!' Judd ordered. 'Cannon only. Save

the missiles for when you have a clear shot.'

Now it comes, he thought. They waited until almost the

last moment, but we're ready for them.

The external cameras relayed images to the sealed and

armoured cabins. Indistinct slab-sided shapes were moving

through the tangled trees towards them.

Gun turrets spat fire, lighting up the gloomy forest.

Soft fungal growths exploded in clouds of steam and

flame. Severed boughs dropped to the ground. Energy bolts

splashed off hard metal hulls. Deep in the woods something

exploded in the blue-white flash of a ruptured power cell.

But still they came.

Then the last line of trees crashed down and the attackers

were upon them.

For a second Dynes almost laughed aloud. The angular

forms of eight or ten mechanical excavators, dozers and

dumper trucks lumbered out of the forest onto the road, each

with an empty control cabin.

Gunfire raked the oncoming machines, tearing off plating

and exploding tyres. A dumper truck, its cabin blazing and

remote controls destroyed, veered round in a crazy circle and

plunged back into the trees again. The engine of an

excavator was blown apart by a volley of armour-piercing

rockets and it ground to a smoking halt.

But the rest of the makeshift war machines rolled on. A

scout drone was crushed under their whirring tracks. They

were heavy vehicles built for rugged conditions and very little

stopped them.

They smashed into the armoured column.

A burning dozer rammed a tank and drove it off the road

and onto its side. An excavator rode up over an APC,

pounding it into the soft ground. The forest road became a

churning melee of grinding metal enveloped in smoke from

blazing tyres and melting powerpacks. Judd was thrown

against his chair harness as a dumper truck crashed into his

own APC with a squeal of tortured metal.

'First squad, disembark!' he ordered. 'They're not armed -

disable those things at close range'

Troops in battle armour poured out of the hatch and

advanced on the defenceless vehicles, riddling engines with

gunfire from point-blank range and tossing grenades into

cabs to destroy their controls. One by one they reduced the

great earthmoving machines to inert, burning hulks.

Dynes watched the images relayed from his drones with

considerable satisfaction. The battle of the forest road would

make a novel opening sequence to the final assault. As long

as he had cameras there to record it.

He turned his attention to the reserve DAVEs on their way

to the Palace. The one he'd sent on from the village was

almost there, he noted with relief. It had followed the course

Peri Brown had taken and was even now speeding along the

road parallel to the wall enclosing the Palace grounds. The

gateway Peri had entered so spectacularly was not far

ahead.

Dynes took manual control of the drone and sent it

hopping over the wall and into the shelter of some shrubbery

on the other side. From recent experience he knew that

guard robots were watching the gate and were adept at

shooting down drones. But if he avoided them and followed

the drive it would presumably lead to the Palace.

Making a detour round the gate area, he struck the drive

some way down and sent the DAVE winging along it. The

artfully sculpted and perfectly maintained grounds flew past.

He hoped whatever lay at the heart of it all would be equally

impressive.

The rolling landscape gave way to more formal gardens

and lights appeared through the trees. Dynes slowed the

drone down, guiding it from one piece of cover to the next.

What had to be the Palace came into view.

Dynes gazed approvingly at the confection of soaring

spires and towers drawn straight from ancient pre-spaceflight

history. It was perfect; and expensive recreation that was

practically made to be attacked.

Then he blinked, peering closer to the screen. A spire had

just vanished leaving a shorter turret in its place. Even as he

watched, a nearby tower grew a pointed roof and shifted

sideways. Dynes edged the drone closer along a garden

path, realising that windows were flickering in and out of

existence and changing shape. What was going on?

Then his view was obscured as a figure stepped out in

front of the DAVE. It was a blonde girl in a long white dress.

She bent down and peered right into the camera lenses.

'Hallo, who do you belong to? My name is Luci Longlocks.

Do you want to play?'

A tank and an APC had been completely destroyed by the

attacking earthmovers, while three other vehicles were

damaged but still serviceable. Eleven men had been killed

and five others badly injured. Judd assessed the losses,

redistributed his

troops amongst the remaining vehicles and the column

continued on.

The attack had been improvised so the defenders must be

short of conventional armaments. All credit to them, Judd

conceded. They had made good use of what they had to

hand, but it had only delayed his advance.

The forest avenue ended in a junction where a gravel road

crossed its path. Opposite was an ornate gateway set in a

high wall that extended in either direction until it vanished

over the horizon. The tall ironwork gates were closed, but a

couple of shots from the leading tank destroyed the

supporting pillars and the column rolled over the mangled

remains and onto a long winding drive.

Energy bolts lashed out from the shadows of trees and

bushes, burning pits in their armoured hulls. Turret guns

returned fire. Sheltering tree trunks were shattered,

shrubbery burnt away. Humanoid forms advanced on the

column, firing rifles as they came, and were blasted into

fragments by the far more powerful guns of the invaders.

From the remains Judd recognised them as basic sentry

robots, effective against infantry and light armour only. The

defenders were truly desperate now

They were still in the dark hemisphere of the tiny world,

though the glow in the sky ahead of them showed the sun

was now only just below the horizon. The road wound on

through ornamental night gardens filled with illuminated pools

and fountains and softly glowing fungi that had been

cultivated in many delicate forms. Even Judd was

momentarily distracted from his objective to admire the

beauty about him. Perhaps, when this was over, he would

make the world his private retreat.

'I'm afraid things are not quite right in the Palace today,' Luci

Longlocks admitted candidly. 'Even I'm not feeling well...'

her form seemed to shimmer disconcertingly for a moment. 'I

was going to complain to the Lords. Would you like to meet

them?' Dynes said cautiously through the drone's speaker:

Thank you. That would be most convenient.'

Luci set off towards the Palace.

Obviously she was some sort of simulation, Dynes

realised, though quite what her function was he had no idea.

But anybody, or anything, that could get his drone safely

inside the Palace right now was not to be ignored. Judd might

be there at any minute.

Luci entered the Palace through a garden door and led the

way along a corridor whose walls were flickering with

transient decorations, pictures and hangings. They reached a

large hall and took a lift down to an underground vestibule

with three doors leading off it. Luci went to the one on the

right, saying:

'I've talked to them before but they don't seem to take any

notice. Perhaps you can make them understand...'

She pulled open an outer door. A second inner door slid

aside and the light came on. Dynes gaped at the makeshift

morgue within.

Luci strode briskly between the racks of bodies waving her

finger and saying: 'You can't just lie here and do nothing.

There's work to do outside. Are you listening...?'

The red sun climbed over the horizon. Silhouetted in its rosy

glow was a large structure capped with graceful spires. Judd

smiled. His goal was literally a Palace. One of Hathold's

private indulgences, no doubt. Then he noticed that the

outline of the building was flickering, as entire segments

appeared and then vanished. The improbable sight was so

unexpected that Judd halted the column.

Was it a kind of subtle trap or form of defence? But how

was it meant to function?

Even as he pondered, figures swarmed out from behind

every bush and tree, springing from nooks where it would

seem they could not possibly have been concealed. There

were animals and people in period costume, some waving

swords. All threw themselves wildly at the column, shouting,

screaming or growling as they came.

The gunners blazed away at the incredible ragtag hoard

by reflex. Bolts of energy that should have severed limbs

seemed to pass through them without effect. Then a running

man was struck in the chest by a bolt. Something exploded in

a shower of sparks and he vanished. Suddenly Judd

understood..

'They're just mobile simulations,' he announced. 'Ignore

them.'

The hoard began clambering over the vehicles, too close

for the external guns to bear on them, and threw themselves

over the camera lenses and viewing portals. In seconds the

drivers were blind.

Judd contained his growing anger. Somebody with only

pawns left on the board was still playing a desperately clever

end game.

In the crew compartment behind Judd, a soldier opened a

hatch in an attempt to clear the simulations that were clinging

to the vehicle with his hand weapon. A small bear-like

creature wearing improbable red boots dropped onto him

from the roof. There was a flash and the simulation vanished.

The soldier was dragged back inside the vehicle with a

smoking hole in his body armour and the hatch was rapidly

shut again.

The simulation had shorted out its power cell with the force

of a small grenade.

Then came the clangs of objects too solid to be

simulations against the hulls. They could hear powerful drills

whirring, probing for gaps in the armour, working at wheel

hubs or links in caterpillar tracks.

'All crews,' Judd roared over the command channel,

'prepare for close quarter combat! Exit your vehicles on my

mark... now!' They burst out into the low red sunlight.

Service robots were clustered -round their vehicles, trying

to cut into them with power tools fitted to their arms. The

soldiers opened fire, blasting heads and limbs from the

robots. The simulations threw themselves at the soldiers. The

air was filled with flying shards of metal, sparks and bolts of

fire.

Judd stood shoulder to shoulder with his men, shooting

down robot and simulation alike with cool precision. Nothing

would stop him now he was this close to his goal.

'You see, they never listen,' Luci confessed miserably, closing

the door on the room of corpses.

'Isn't it always the way?' Dynes said sympathetically.

'What's behind the other doors?'

'Oh, you wouldn't want to go in there. It's just a control

room.'

'I might. Could you open it for me... please?'

With an indifferent toss of her head, Luci opened the door

and ran inside.

Dynes saw a room banked with displays and control

panels. A tall, oddly detailed blue box was standing in a

corner. Peri Brown and an unknown man in a multicoloured

coat were hunched over a console while Kel, Raz and Nerla

looked on anxiously. A service robot stood inside the door as

though on guard.

Under cover of Luci's entry, Dynes slipped the drone into

the room over the guard's head and parked it unobtrusively in

a corner.

'Hallo, do you want to pay a game?' Luci said brightly as

she ran up to the others.

'Go away!' Peri shouted at her. 'See, they're going crazy,

Doctor. Can't you do something else?'

The man did not resemble the Doctor that Dynes recalled

from their encounter on Gelsandor. Had he had a total body

makeover? But the blue box was familiar - their shuttle pod,

or something. Odd design...

'It's not working! Peri said, her voice shrill with panic. 'I'm

doing the best I can,' the Doctor snapped back.

'Well, try harder. Judd will be here any minute!'

'Perhaps if I try this...' he tapped out another combination

on the keypad.

The three young scavengers gasped in alarm, looks of

horror frozen on their faces. Their bodies seemed to dim,

then fold in upon themselves. For a moment three APS

projector spheres hung in the air where they had stood, then

dropped to the floor with sharp cracks, rolled over and lay

still.

Luci screamed. Peri gazed at the motionless spheres in

stark disbelief.

'They... were APSs!' she choked out. She clutched at her

forehead. 'Doctor, what's happening?'

The Doctor looked equally astonished. As though in a

daze he turned back to the keyboard. Text scrolled across the

screen.

‘”Adventures in Primitive Cultures"', he read. ‘It’s another

interactive APS programme, part of a prehistory educational

simulation. It must have been activated at the same time as

the period play that gave rise to the stories of Lords still living

here. They were all APSs like Luci.'

'But I could touch them! They seemed so real.'

'We know simulations can interact with physical objects to

a limited extent. You must face the truth, Peri. Everybody

we've met, apart from robots, were photonic illusions!'

A warning alarm sounded on the control board and lights

flashed angrily. A clipped clear voice said: 'Warning:

secondary systems failure imminent'

Banks of lights began to go out. Luci gave a feeble cry,

faded and vanished. As her emitter bounced to the floor, the

robot on guard waved its arms about wildly, spun in a circle

and keeled over with a crash.

'They're all dying,' Peri wailed.

'No: said the Doctor, taking her firmly by the shoulder. 'The

last people who died on this world are the ones in the freezer

out there. We haven't won - but Judd won't either. There's

nothing left to fight for here. Come on, Peri, let's go'

Peri allowed herself to be led across to the blue box. Both

of them slipped through its narrow door which closed behind

them. Even as Dynes looked on curiously, a breathless,

pulsating sighing filled the air, growing steadily louder. With it

the blue box faded and was gone.

Out in the garden the remaining robots writhed and

collapsed, the glow dying from their eyes. The simulations

winked out and projector spheres dropped out of the air.

Judd's men looked around in surprise, suddenly deprived

of their enemy. Judd didn't know what had happened to the

defenders, but nothing was going to distract him now.

'Forward!' he commanded, and set off at a determined,

power-assisted jog towards the Palace, his surviving troops

fanning out on either side of him. The building had been

shorn of all its illusory architectural trimmings to reveal a

large but less ostentatious residence. Was Hathold still

there? It didn't matter. He couldn't hide for long on such a tiny

world. Judd would open the shield and bring reinforcements

down and search until he found him.

There was no sign of resistance from the Palace. As their

boots crunched across the gravel courtyard, Judd saw that

one of Dexel Dynes' camera drones was waiting for them on

the steps leading up to the main entrance.

'You'd better see this,' it said with Dynes' voice.

Judd stomped along the aisles between the desiccated

corpses in the underground cold room. He examined the face

of each male figure, trying to reconstruct the features of the

man as they must have appeared in life. Finally he stopped

before one in plain grey

overalls and stared at it intently.

'Yes... this looks like Hathold.'

He strode back into the control room, watched in silence

by his men. He prodded the fallen robot with the toe of his

boot and kicked one of the emitter spheres aside.

'What happened here, Dynes?' he demanded of the DAVE

hovering attentively before him.

'I'm not certain, Protector,' Dynes said through the drone.

Judd seated himself at the controls and began working the

keyboard. 'There may be records that explain what happened

here...' Images from APS programmes scrolled past as

though taunting him with their illusions. 'How did you die,

Hathold?' Judd muttered, half to himself. 'And where are the

others?'

Suddenly a screen came to life displaying the Esselvanian

coat of arms, then faded to reveal Hathold's haggard

features.

"This is my last message to you, my dear wife and

children...' They listened to the recording in silence.

'... remember we were trying to reinforce the shield...

something went wrong... we were irradiated... reprogrammed

the robots as best we can. I hope the systems were not too

badly damaged. They will maintain and defend the Palace

until it is safe for you to return. Meanwhile let the reserve ship

take you to other worlds who will fight Judd's tyranny with

you... last words of Hathold, King of Esselven...'

The screen went blank.

Judd was a rigid mask as he fought the frustrated rage

within him. Hathold had escaped him forever and his family

had gone on to some other hideaway. Meanwhile, Judd had

wasted valuable men and equipment fighting robots and

illusions obeying a dead man's orders. This would be a

humiliating chapter in the history of the Protectorate. Then a

small detail rose to the surface of his mind...

Judd worked the keypad. Information appeared.

'That recording was made only weeks after Hathold left

Esselven. Yet now this system's timebase shows the current

date to be five hundred and eleven years ahead of what it

should be

His men looked baffled. Through the drone Dynes said:

'So when I thought you'd been delayed in orbit...'

'Precisely,' said Judd. 'Five minutes became the equivalent

of almost two days down here. It is also consistent with the

state of the spaceport and ship in the hangar. Their attempts

to strengthen the shield must have altered time itself. The

continuum must be highly distorted on this world... yes, it

makes sense. The shield was a virtual time/space stasis!'

Eagerly he crossed to the shield control bay and started

examining the readings. 'If we can duplicate what they did,

Hathold may have unwittingly given the Protectorate a

powerful weapon -'

'Warning!' a clipped computer generated voice said from

the main console. 'Unauthorised use of shield controls.

Antihandling trigger and timed destruct sequence activated.'

Judd sprang to the main console, scanning the readings

intently. 'Computer: cancel destruct sequence!' he said.

'Voice pattern not recognised,' the computer responded.

'Enter proper access code to cancel and reset.'

Judd had drawn his handweapon and pointed it at the

computer before he realised it was a futile gesture. That

would only trigger what he was trying to prevent. If he had

time he could bring his specialists down and they could

bypass the security devices. But to do that had to open the

shield first...

'Access code has not been entered,' continued the

computer, after a pause. 'Timed destruct sequence activated.

Nuclear reactor safety systems disengaged. Power grid and

shield generators will be destroyed in one hour. Shield

discontinuity now open for egress only. This system is closing

down...'

All the panel lights went out except for those on one small

display which showed the numeral: 60.

Judd trembled with rage. Hathold was dead, yet still he

denied him his final triumph! Judd's armoured fist smashed

into the control board, splintering the plastic panel and

sending fragments skittering across the floor.

His men shifted uneasily, uncertain what was to come

next. Judd took a deep breath, then opened the channel to

the lander and said tonelessly: 'Bring the ship over. Prepare

to evacuate advance party...

Dynes watched the lander lift off from the spaceport even as

he recorded Judd's men trudging out of the Palace.

As he prepared the Stop Press for take off, headlines were

running through Dynes' mind. A WORLD LOCKED IN TIME,

perhaps. Yes, he could play up both the scientific and

sensational aspects of the story. He had some good action

scenes... but it was a dead end as far as his coverage of

Judd's progress was concerned.

Suddenly he felt it would be wise to leave Judd alone for a

while and file the story personally at INA central on Plexar.

Judd would only try to find out where the second ship

carrying Hathold's family went, and that was a cold and very

un-newsworthy trail by now. Neither would this latest setback

help Judd's temper. He might lose control completely and it

might be dangerous to be in the vicinity when it happened. It

was probably fortunate that Dynes hadn't mentioned Peri

Brown, the Doctor or their unlikely blue box.

Now they were characters that would be worth closer

investigation. Who were they anyway and how did they come

to be here? And how had they just vanished into thin air...

By the time the Stop Press lifted into the sky, Dynes was

cursing himself. He'd been blind! What sort of story had he let

slip through his fingers? To hell with Judd and his obsessions!

Why didn't the man get back to invading planets like he used

to and give him some decent newscopy.

You couldn't trust anybody these days!

Chapter Twenty-eight

With a final deep sonorous note and a dull thud, the TARDIS

materialised once again in the palace control room. The

Doctor emerged and made straight for the shield controls.

Peri followed him, saying; 'Oscar winning performance or

what?' Kel, Raz and Nerla cautiously exited the TARDIS,

looking around them in wonder and delight.

One of the APS projectors lying on the floor rose into the

air and Oralissa appeared. 'I believe we were successful,'

she said.

'Those simulations you made of Kel, Nerla and Raz were

perfect,' Peri complimented her. And Luci did a great job

leading Dynes down here.'

Green-8's eyes glowed and he levered himself up off the

floor. 'I only hope all this destruction was necessary,' he said

solemnly. 'How many of Judd's men died in the attack?'

'I don't think there was any other way, Green-8,' the Doctor

consoled him, still working at his keyboard. 'They suffered

because they came prepared to use violence in an evil

cause. Besides, Judd would never have believed our

deception if he had been allowed into the Palace unopposed.

In the same way Dynes had to think he was secretly

observing us so he would accept what he saw as the truth.'

'Then the objective was achieved,' Green-8 said. 'They left

convinced that everything of value here would shortly be

destroyed. The modification of King Hathold's recording

together with Miss Oralissa's computer warning were most

convincing.'

Peri frowned. 'But if Judd hangs about and the shield

doesn't go down, won't he get suspicious? He'll just start all

over again. And if it's open, he might come back anyway. The

same goes for Dynes. We can't have him snooping around

again or he'll blow everything.'

'Don't worry' said the Doctor. 'It was only necessary to

persuade them to leave this once. That will be enough.

Peri looked at him closely. There was an odd look on the

Doctor's face, half grim, half mischievous.

'Doctor, what are you up to?'

'Just preparing to bring time here back in synchronisation

with the rest of the galaxy,' he said casually. 'Of course,

things have to balance out, you know... Look at the screen.

Two ships are about to enter the discontinuity. I can't detect

any more so Judd must only have brought one down... I think

Dynes' ship is in the lead. Apparently he's in a hurry.' He

pressed some keys. 'A stitch in time... There, that should do

it!'

He sat back from the controls and beamed at them in

satisfaction.

'That's it?' Peri asked doubtfully.

'Yes. Judd and Dynes will not be troubling us again'

'You haven't... killed them?'

'Nothing so cold-blooded, I assure you. Just don't give

them another thought' He looked at Green-8 and Oralissa

and the scavengers. 'You have many more immediate

concerns'

'Such as, Doctor?' Green-8 asked.

'For a start, educating our young friends here, and their

fellow scavengers, about their true origins. I think Oralissa

will be particularly good at that. Meanwhile you must repair

the old spacecraft in the forest. You have the manufacturing

facilities, and all the technical data is no doubt in the

computer files somewhere. By the time you're ready to return

to Esselven, I think you'll find the Protectorate's control will

not be as secure as it was. The planet will need a leader.

Perhaps young Kel will be up to the job?

Kel goggled. 'Me... a chansor?'

'A king, even higher than a chansor,' Peri said. 'And of

course you'll need a queen - but don't look at me, I'm a

republican!'

Nerla looked expectantly at Kel. Kel slowly grinned back.

Peri sighed in relief.

'Well, Green-8,' the Doctor said. 'You wanted things to

change and an opportunity to travel. This is your chance. I

don't say it will be easy, but will you accept the challenge?'

'I will, Doctor... if Miss Oralissa will help me.'

Oralissa smiled. 'A chance to do something different,

something worthwhile. Yes I'd like that.'

'Then why don't you all go outside and make some plans?'

the Doctor suggested. 'It's a lovely morning.'

'But there is no morning here, Doctor,' Oralissa said.

The Doctor smiled. 'You can still think of it as the dawn of

a new day.'

When they had gone he looked at Peri and raised an

enquiring eyebrow. 'Well, would you like to stay here for a

while? Do a bit of gardening, perhaps?'

'No gardening!' Peri said firmly. 'And first a bath - for a

week!' The Doctor smiled indulgently. 'Each to their own, I

suppose.' Peri started towards the TARDIS, then looked back

at the Doctor.

'You're sure Judd and Dynes won't give us any more

trouble?'

'Perfectly,' the Doctor said. 'As sure as I am that history will

look after them exactly as they deserve'

Epilogue

DYNES recovered from the effects of the passage through

the shield discontinuity as the Stop Press rose into space. He didn't try to make orbit but headed on out, knowing Judd was

close behind him.

As he laid in a course for Plexar, Dynes automatically

opened the link to the INA newsnet. To his surprise there was

nothing but static on the channel. He checked the receiver

but it seemed functional. Where were all the regular

broadcasts?

Then he realised something else was missing. He

scanned space behind him. Where was Judd's fleet? They

had been in such close orbit about the tiny world that they

were practically touching. But they wouldn't leave without

their leader. What could have happened to them in the

relative few minutes he'd been down on the planet?

A horrifying thought struck Dynes. No, it couldn't be...

Suddenly he felt very alone.

The captain of the Esselvanian Astrocorps quietly entered the

audience chamber. It was the afternoon period that the royal

family spent informally together. However, this was a rather

unusual circumstance.

The garden doors of the chamber were open and the

children were playing chase with their nanny, their shrill cries

mocking the normal solemnity of the room. The Queen was

gardening while the King was lying on the grass, laughing

and urging them on. The

Chancellor was standing in his usual place by the throne,

watching indulgently.

The captain crossed over to him. Your pardon, Chancellor.'

'Captain?'

'We have just brought in a person captured by the outer

system patrol. He was with a handful of men in an antique

warship travelling on emergency hyperdrive. They resisted

boarding. Only he survived. He's claiming he is... well,

Special Order 178 applies'

'I understand. Please have him brought here. His Majesty

will want to see him'

A few minutes later a small compact man was escorted in

by two guards. His hands were cuffed in front of him. His

sunken, shadowed eyes darted about the chamber, as

though trying to make sense of his surroundings.

The King was now seated on the throne. 'I am Kel the

Third of Esselven,' he said. 'I believe you wanted to see me?'

The man blinked, then managed to focus on Kel. 'Do you

know who I am?' he said sharply.

'I know who you claim to be'

'I'm Protector Glavis Judd!'

'That is most unlikely'

The man raised his hands to his brow for a moment,

screwing up his eyes, as though trying to hold onto a thought.

'There was an accident in time... I am Judd... this is my

world!'

'This world belongs to the people of Esselven. By their will

I represent them in matters of state. Glavis Judd disappeared

over 500 years ago, and his Protectorate disintegrated

shortly afterwards. Everybody knows that.'

The man shook his head. 'No! The Protectorate was a

perfect creation. It was efficient and productive. MI were

equal...'

'Some more than others, perhaps?'

'How can you dare say such a thing!'

'You're right,' King Kel said with unexpected candour. 'The

concept of royal privilege is not logical, however it seems to

be what the people want. There must be room for such

idiosyncrasies in life. Protector Judd never understood that.'

'Don't tell me what I understood!'

'Then tell me why the Protectorate fell.'

'I don't... it couldn't...fall.'

'But it did! The Protectorate was a cold, heartless creation.

That was why it fell.'

'Never!' With a surge of berserk strength the man threw off

his guards and made a lunge for the throat of the young king.

The Chancellor's hand caught him by the collar and lifted

him off his feet like a child. The stranger kicked and punched

with desperate strength, but it was no frail old man like

Dhalron who wore the chancellor's chain of office now.

The guards recovered and grabbed the stranger who was

snarling with frustrated rage. Spittle rimmed his lips and there

was a mad light in his eyes. 'You can't do this to me! I'm Judd

the Protector! Where are my warriors?'

'Take him away,' the King said sadly. 'See that he is cared

for appropriately.'

When the man's cries were lost in the distance, the King

looked quizzically at the impassive face of his Chancellor.

'Well, Greeneight, my good conscience. Is this the end of the

old matter?'

'I believe it is, Your Majesty.'

The King realised small faces were watching them and

turned with a smile. 'It's all right, children, the excitement's

over. Back to Nanny Oralissa. She has some lessons

planned for you...'

As he went back out into the garden, Chancellor

Greeneight contacted the central administration office via his

internal radio.

'Please cancel Special Order 178. I do not think it will be

needed again...'

* * *

Dexel Dynes sat in the office of the Editor-in-chief of

Stellmedia, the company that Interstellar News had become

500 years on.

'That's quite a story, Dynes,' the Editor said. 'Of course

we'd like to feature your return exclusively on our network.

How soon will you be ready to give an interview?'

'But when will you run the story?'

The Editor shifted in his chair. 'The trouble is everybody

who studied history knows what happened to Protector Judd.

Of course, your report will fill in some of the details. It could

make a fascinating documentary -'

'A documentary!'

'Look, Dynes. You’re a man from the past with a unique

insight into the way things were in the old days. If you want to

keep working in the media, maybe you should consider

presenting historical programmes.'

'Historicals? I report what's happening now,' Dynes

protested. 'I make the news!'

The Editor shook his head sadly. 'To tell you the truth, your

style of reporting is no longer popular. That sort of

sensationalism just isn't acceptable any more.' He shrugged.

'Face it, Dynes: you're history!'

The attendants led Judd, gently but firmly restrained in a

force jacket, along the calm, pastel coloured corridor.

'You can't treat me like this!' he said, his voice now harsh

with shouting. 'Don't you know who I am?'

'Of course we do, sir,' an attendant said in kindly,

condescending tones. 'Your room's just along here. We’ll

make you quite comfortable. A doctor will be along soon to

talk to you about your treatment.'

'I don't need any treatment. I'm the Protector, do you hear!

I'm Glavis Judd!'

A voice sounded from behind one of the many doors that

lined the corridor: 'Judd? I'm Glavis Judd!'

'Nor cried another unseen voice, 'I'm Glavis Judd!'

'Don't listen to them!' Judd sobbed. 'I'm Judd, I tell you.

I'm... Glavis Judd...'

But he no longer sounded quite so sure.

About the Author

Christopher Bulis was born and has lived most of his life in

Sussex, on the south coast of England.

He was a science fiction fan from an early age, but only

took to writing SF as well as reading it after working as an

artist and designer, amongst other things. He still draws and

paints when he has the opportunity, which is not as often as

he would like. He has just calculated that, somewhere around

the very end of the Palace of the Red Sun, he passed the

milestone of one million published words of Doctor Who-

associated fiction.

Document Outline

Front Cover

Back Cover

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Epilogue

About the Author