Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [108]
Miranda glanced back at Ferran, who was still grinning at her. He hadn’t told her everything yet.
Miranda looked into Cate’s face again, then she realised. ‘A duplicate of me.’
Ferran was grinning from ear to ear. ‘If you can’t have the original, you have to settle for the next best thing.’
‘She’s a clone of me?’
Ferran shook his head. ‘Not quite. You don’t need to know the exact process used. She looks like you, that’s all. A physical duplicate, not a mental one. She doesn’t have your mind: she just has a computer.’ He reached over, stroked Cate. ‘Her body is an almost exact copy of yours, though... or it was, before it aged. Copied from surveillance images I took of you on my last visit to this time zone. Isn’t that right, Deputy?’
Miranda looked at the woman, whose face hadn’t so much as flickered.
‘Yes, Prefect,’ Cate said flatly. Cate’s voice wasn’t the same as Miranda’s – the accent was different. Well, it would be – Cate hadn’t been brought up in Greyfrith.
‘You are sentient? Intelligent? I mean... not just programmed to follow certain orders and answer certain questions?’
Ferran laughed, but Miranda ignored him.
The Deputy nodded. ‘My positronic brain contains over ten million micro-relays. In human terms, I am above super-genius level.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Miranda chuckled. She cast a disparaging glance over at Ferran. ‘Well – most of us are.’
Cate’s mouth flickered a little, Miranda was sure of it.
‘You have Cate. So why do you need me?’ Miranda said.
‘I need full access to the restricted areas of the Librarinth.’
Miranda shrugged. ‘I’m not sure how I can help you. I’ve got a school-library card, if that’s any use. But not with me.’
‘The Librarinth is in... a rather unique location. The Needle. It’s a very large structure with a black hole at one end. One of the last surviving artefacts of your people’s technology. There are cities on its surface. And the Librarinth is the largest of those cities, the repository of all surviving knowledge and art from the time before your father’s reign. Every secret in the universe is kept there.’
‘You must know this is the first I’ve heard about this place. How can I possibly help you?’
‘Only the leader of a race can access their race’s secrets. You are that person, by default. The guardians of that place will recognise your authority. You will extract the technological secrets of your forefathers – I shall use them to impose my will, as they did theirs.’
The carriage had drawn to a halt.
Miranda had been keeping count. The journey had taken about two minutes. So they had been travelling at about seventy-five miles an hour, she calculated.
‘Why don’t you just teleport everywhere?’ she asked. ‘You have the technology, so why use travel tubes?’
‘Teleport?’ Ferran asked, mulling over the word. ‘Oh, you mean transmat? It’s a costly process, and like all forms of transport it has its risks. Humanity in the twentieth century has jet aircraft, but they don’t use them to commute to work.’
Miranda nodded.
The door hissed open.
* * *
They were in a small communal chamber. Cate had been here many times before as the mapping operation had progressed. There were desks set up, and they had glowing maps and plans laid out on them. Cate glanced over at Miranda. The young woman was feigning nonchalance as she studied the displays, memorised them.
‘This is the mapping room,’ Ferran explained. ‘We are exploring the ship in teams. Teams of slaves at first – expendable men, in case there is anything dangerous. Once that’s done, soldiers are sent in for a proper survey.’
‘No one is expendable,’ Miranda said. Cate almost gasped at the audacity of the statement. The caste system must have been evident to Miranda just from this room – the guards wore black coveralls, the slaves wore grey tunics. There were others, their clothing less uniform – engineers, technicians. How could she not see these divisions?
One man was standing on his own, the others not quite daring to stand close to him. A subcommander, wearing the emblems of rank, and a cap instead of the