Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [89]
On higher ground than Ace and Molecross, Ethan wasn’t worried about his feet.
He was trying to work out a solution to the hacking problem. Apparently, the TARDIS made regular update connections to the data banks on the Doctor’s home planet. That was the vulnerable point.
‘I don’t understand,’ he’d said to the Doctor. ‘Why hasn’t anyone tried this before?’
‘Because the codes are virtually unbreakable.’
‘But I can break them, you say, and I’m only human.’
‘The work’s actually been done by two humans, both of them among the best mathematicians on Earth. Your planet’s headed into a dry spell there: Erdos is gone, and he was the last of the great abstract thinkers. As for other civilisations, obviously there are some advanced enough to be a threat, but they’re locked out of the network entirely.’
‘Why don’t you simply reconfigure the TARDIS’s defence system?’
The Doctor looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. ‘Do you have any idea how complex the TARDIS is? Breaking down the defences alone would take one of your years.’
So here we are, Ethan thought unhappily, taking a long step over a muddy patch. The only solution – other than killing him – seemed to be for the Doctor to confront the potential invaders himself. Only he hadn’t worked out the logistics – a fairly substantial difficulty. Did he honestly think they’d find something useful in this field, or was he just marking time till he could come up with a solution?
Chapter Twenty-one
183
The path Ethan was taking brought him close to the trees, almost under them. He’d been walking slowly, examining the ground, and when he stopped and looked up he saw an irregular, almost torn-looking spot ahead of him. It wasn’t large, and it took Ethan a minute to realise that this must be where Molecross had fallen. He grimaced and went closer, but there wasn’t much to see – only the churned up, burned patch. Unexpectedly the sight saddened him. Poor bloody Molecross. Poor sod.
As he turned away, something caught the corner of his eye. A flash, a glint.
Ethan peered tensely into the trees. In the overcast sky, the sun was only a blur, and the wood was already dark. He went to its edge and stood for several minutes, waiting for whatever he’d glimpsed to appear again. Nothing did.
Hell, he might have only been seeing things; that had certainly been known to happen. Still, he lingered. Something told him that this wasn’t his imagination, that it was real. Whatever that meant. A few days with the Doctor – God, had it only been a few days? – and your notion of the real began to stretch out of shape.
Then he saw it again.
It was light, only it wasn’t light. As he watched, it flickered among the trees and was lost. ‘Oh dear God,’ Ethan breathed. He turned to call to the Doctor –
and an icy shock went right up the bones of his neck into his skull.
Ace clumped wearily up to the Doctor and Lethbridge-Stewart, Molecross trail-ing after her, abashed. ‘Look, Professor, this is well useless. We haven’t found anything, and I bet Ethan hasn’t either.’
The Brigadier was of her mind. ‘I’m afraid she’s probably right, Doctor.’
‘Yes, yes,’ the Doctor admitted gloomily. ‘I suppose I’m overanxious about these marks. It’s only that this is where the trouble began.’
Ace had been looking around. ‘ Oi,’ she said. ‘Where’s Ethan?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
There was something cold on the back of Ethan’s neck. It was a hand. He jerked away, but the hand caught his hair and twisted his head around.
‘I must say,’ Brett observed, ‘you look much better than I would have expected.