Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [28]
‘Would it be considered a military or a scientific target?
‘Yes,’ the Provost-General and Chief Scientist said in unison.
‘Both?’ the Doctor mused.
‘You said before that you could recover the recording,’
Medford reminded the Doctor.
‘And you said that there were state-of-the-art laboratories.’ The Doctor had realized that they were changing the subject but was playing along.
‘There are indeed. If –’ The communicator on Medford’s wrist bleeped. He glanced at it. ‘I’m afraid I must leave you,’ he apologized. ‘There is an intersystem call waiting for me in my office.’ He bowed his head to the Chief Scientist and hurried to the lift. Adric watched him leave.
‘I am due elsewhere shortly,’ Whitfield said. ‘There will be time only for a brief tour of Scientifica. Following that, I shall show you to your laboratory.’
The Provost-General double-checked that no one had seen him enter the antechamber, then slid the door closed behind him. He flicked the switch that soundproofed the communications chamber. Finally, he swept the room for bugging devices using the sensor on his wrist computer.
Only when he was satisfied did he sit in the padded chair in the centre of the small room. Green letters appeared in the air a metre or so in front of his face. ‘++Incoming message, secured warplink++’ a synthesized voice announced. Medford reached for the control unit and selected ‘Visual Only’.
An eyepiece whirred up into place, lighting up. It would check his retinal pattern before releasing the message. The Provost-General placed his eye against it.
‘++Identification confirmed, Adjudicator Provost-General Medford, T S. Message follows++’ There was a brief delay as the encrypted files were decoded, then decoded again. ‘++From: Admiral Dattani, commanding officer: Ark Royal: flagship Third Fleet++Message reads: my forces placed at your disposal. Assembled at grid reference rune-six-eight-zero-nine-two-nine. ++’ Medford calculated that at battlespeed the fleet was less than an hour away. Twenty thousand of the finest astronauts in the Empire, including support staff. ‘++Estimate can hold this position for a week without complications. ++’
Medford smiled at that. He’d known Januscek for thirty years, come to appreciate his Pakislovak gift for understatement. There were few sane men that could contemplate high treason with a smile on their face. He memorized the grid reference, then erased the message, making sure that he purged all the servers, buffers and back-ups it had ever been through. Then he typed in the reply.
‘++Confirm Ark Royal. Hold position and await further orders. Thank you++’
That done Provost-General Medford sat back. They would hang for this, if they survived. But if they didn’t survive...
5
Behind Closed Doors
‘Please stop and think about this.’ Nyssa’s voice was beginning to get on Tegan’s nerves now.
‘No.’ The lift had deposited them on the eighth floor.
Now they could only be moments from ‘Bruce Jovanka’ in Room 74. Tegan began mentally composing what she would say to the man.
‘You’re not acting rationally.’
Tegan didn’t slow down. ‘How would you feel dragged across time and space in a flying phone box that’s on the verge of falling apart. Instead of Heathrow, I end up on a planet cold enough to freeze the beak off a penguin only to find there’s some crim booked into a hotel using my name.
Forgive me, Nys, if I don’t feel like acting rationally.’
‘There is a possible explanation that you have overlooked.’
‘And what might that be?’
‘I’ll tell you if you slow down,’ Nyssa insisted.
Tegan stopped, and turned. ‘OK.’
‘This is your future.’
Yes, Nyssa, I know that. ‘Go on.’
‘He could be your descendant: your great-grandson’s great-grandson.’
Tegan considered the possibility. Nyssa wasn’t to know that her surname would change if she got married, but that didn’t detract from the basic argument. Centuries down the line, there could be hundreds of little Jovankas running around. There was one snag, though, ‘If he’s for real, then why the phoney accent?’
‘Speech patterns