Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [14]
‘We have two companions.’ Tegan explained, getting into the spirit of things. ‘They will be joining us shortly.’
‘I understand,’ the robot said. There was a brief whirring noise. Your rooms are being prepared. Would you like a meal or beverage while you wait?’
‘That would be lovely, thanks,’ Tegan replied. A holographic arrow pointed them to a table in a nearby alcove. They followed it, and sat squashed together on a white leather sofa. A spherical drone bobbed over and served them coffee.
‘Do robots do all the work now?’ Tegan asked. She knew that Nyssa was from a different galaxy, and so she’d never been to this place or time, but she didn’t seem half as bewildered as Tegan was feeling.
Nyssa smiled. ‘Most civilizations have a phase in which they are dependent upon machines. Traken outgrew that stage around eleven thousand years ago, but on many planets, robots develop sentience and are granted full citizenship. That isn’t always the way it happens, of course: the six-million-year-old civilization of Troxos 4 collapsed when their robot servants –’ Tegan’s mind began to drift.
Her attention had been drawn by a man sitting at a nearby table. He was only a couple of years older than her, and was tall, well over six foot, with a bodybuilder physique and square jaw. He wore a neatly tailored, collarless, grey suit.
He looked like a pilot, or an actor. She peered over her menu at him, half-trying to catch his eye.
‘– but, of course, it doesn’t take much intelligence to provide drinks, serve simple meals and ask if people want their cushions adjusting,’ Nyssa concluded.
‘I’ll try not to take that personally,’ Tegan said. ‘What do you think that man is doing?’
‘He looks as though he is calling over a waiter,’ Nyssa suggested prosaically. ‘Yes, look.’
A man – a real human man – in a grey tunic was bringing over a steel box that looked a bit like a telephone.
He placed it on the blond’s table then left him to his business.
‘Cheers mate,’ the large man called out cheerfully.
‘Catch yer later, cobber.’ He chuckled nasally to himself.
‘Tegan!’ Nyssa exclaimed. ‘That man’s an Australian.’
3
Off the Rails
‘It’s very odd.’
After over an hour of trying, the Doctor had failed to locate even the slightest trace of temporal disturbance.
They had ended up sitting on a bench under the lengthening shadow of the Empress Statue. They were on a raised platform in the middle of the park, with a peculiar icy u-shaped roadway running straight through it and on in a straight line as far as the eye could see in both directions. The platform must have been about fifty metres long. The whole length was covered with a transparent canopy which kept off the snow, but this hadn’t prevented a layer of ice from forming on the platform or moss growing on the roof of the canopy. Adric reckoned that the canopy was relatively new – built in the last decade or so –
and that the rest of the platform was a lot older, although how much older he didn’t want to guess. The Doctor shook the time sensor, but it remained stubbornly silent. He slipped it from his wrist and reached into his frock coat for the sonic screwdriver.
‘It isn’t broken is it?’
‘No.’ There was a streak of impatience in the Doctor’s voice. ‘I’m simply trying to recalibrate it.’
‘Sorry I spoke.’ Adric decided it was time to stretch his legs. He was used to the cold by now, but night was drawing in, and temperatures were falling. He didn’t particularly feel like staying outside any longer than he had to. The park appeared in evening shades of pale blue and grey. Around the park, the city itself was bathed in the grey-orange of sodium lighting.
There was only one other person around, a middle-aged woman in a grey fur coat standing at the other end of the platform. She was carrying a large bag, and kept walking out to the edge of the platform, looking down the roadway and checking the chronometer on her wrist. Adric briefly considered walking over to start a conversation with her, but decided against it. Instead he looked