Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [125]
Grey figures stood in the plain staring up at their new sun. There were about forty of them, the crew of the ship and Iranda and Nikolas’s personal guard. The Sunless were shielding their eyes from the brightness around them. Bernice saw the nearest one to her turn to its neighbour. And for a moment she thought she might have seen an expression cross its face. It looked almost . . .
uncertain.
A large shadow fell across them as a black ship swung down to greet them. It carved a passage through the new blue sky, its six legs curled below it like pincers. It hovered a few feet above the ground, sending up a spray of ice.
It wobbled dangerously as if it might drop out of the sky at any moment. A hatch in its side opened and Michael appeared as the ramp extended. His face was mostly back to its natural purple now, but it was still streaked with white. He waved them aboard.
The ramp ended three feet up in the air. Bernice gave Emile a leg up to the shaking platform and then clambered on herself. She turned to help Kitzinger. Their eyes met and she grinned.
‘You knew didn’t you?’ Kitzinger asked.
Bernice nodded. ‘Well, I did what archaeologists do best. I made an informed guess.’ Her good humour faded as she saw Scott refuse Michael’s outstretched hand and he climbed unaided on to the bottom of the ramp.
‘Is Tameka flying this thing?’ Bernice asked Michael, who was now looking a little troubled.
He nodded.
Bernice turned to Kitzinger. ‘Now we really are in trouble.’
The black ship headed off through the heavens. After a little while, the beam of platinum energy stretching between the planet and the star faded, almost as suddenly as it had flared into life. But the rejuvenated sun continued to shine on the planet, investing the huge crystal structure which grew on its surface with golden light.
At the base of the structure sat two ribbed, clam-shaped objects.
One gurgled quietly for a moment before falling back into a restful silence.
‘J’VAIS LE DIRE A MON PAPA . . .’
From the diary of Bernice Summerfield
I didn’t feel completely relaxed until the ship had shrugged off the planet’s pull and we were safely in space. I collapsed on the floor of the bridge, my legs splayed ungraciously out in front of me. I ran my hand over the fine stubble on my head. I needed hair extensions, a bath, a posh frock, and a large glass of red wine.
Although not necessarily in that order.
Emile came and sat next to me. ‘So tell me, Professor S, does that sort of thing happen on every field trip?’
‘Good heavens, no!’ I exclaimed and then thought about this for a moment. ‘Well, not on every trip.’
Kitzinger joined us, still wearing her heavy coat. Her short hair was full of grit and flakes of ice.
‘There is just one thing I don’t understand,’ she said after a moment’s contemplation.
Jason caught my eye and grinned privately.
‘How did you know what the device was?’ Kitzinger asked.
‘Well I had the advantage of not believing in any of that tosh about weapons in the first place. I have said this before but I do feel that it is worth reiterating, if only for the benefit of those of you who are about to embark on archaeology degrees. Ancient and powerful civilizations do not leave dangerous weapons lying around on the off chance that their descendants should ever find themselves in a tight squeeze and need them. The whole idea is silly nonsense. But once I realized that I had been wrong to think that there wasn’t anything there at all, I went back to first principles and tried to work out what kind of device an ancient civilization might leave for its descendants.
‘When I looked at the inscription again I realized the mistake the ’puter had made. It wasn’t power beyond the sun, which is quite an awkward description anyway. It was to power the sun beyond its natural life. The ’puter couldn’t get to grips with the syntax of the language and missed a couple of the words, that