Doctor Who_ The Infinity Doctors - Lance Parkin [56]
Voran scowled. ‘So what?’
‘If we could do that, Castellan, then with our time travel technology it would allow complete observation of the universe at the quantum level. We’d know everything. Until now, no one has been able to solve the Agathon Equations that would allow this, although strictly speaking such a solution is not ruled out by Time Theory.’
The Magistrate tried to remain calm. ‘If the breach can be controlled in that way…’
‘Oh, controlling the source would be relatively easy,’
Norval said. ‘The controller would need to be sentient, but that’s all. A sentience in control of the observer effect on a universal level. A fascinating thought experiment. They’d be omniscient. Come to think of it, they’d be omnipotent, too.
Whatever they observed would exist – the universe would literally bend to their will.’
The Magistrate almost choked. ‘A thought experiment?
Whoever harnesses the Effect will control the universe, and there will be no way of defending ourselves from them.’
Norval nodded. ‘In theory,’ he agreed, before returning to his monitor.
‘Fellow Time Lords, this is the greatest threat to Gallifreyan security that we have ever encountered,’ the Magistrate insisted.
The President smiled. ‘In theory, Magistrate. But there is no evidence that the Effect is under anyone’s control, yet.’
Could they not see?
The Magistrate’s eyes narrowed. ‘It is only a matter of time. The answer is simple: we must locate the source of the Effect, we must travel there and prevent access to it.’
‘Can we do so?’
. ‘We must,’ the Magistrate told them. ‘Until we do, the entire universe is under threat, Gallifrey included. Nothing is safe.’
Chapter Six
Grey Universe
The Castellan’s office was spartan, all arches and airy light.
Unusually for the Citadel, the room had a window, looking down over the Panopticon.
It was a large room, but needn’t have been. Business was conducted in the three-sided alcove at the far end. The Doctor crossed the marble floor, his footsteps echoing guiltily around.
‘Anyone home?’ he called, trying not to say it too loud in case there was. Unusually, none of Castellan Voran’s assistants had been in the outer offices either. Perhaps it was their tea-break.
The control panel he needed was hidden somewhere in the room, probably at the far end. The Castellan’s chair was a ludicrous high-backed plastic construction. The Doctor did a quick search, but couldn’t find any concealed panels. The desk, an immense ebony slab, was now the prime suspect.
One side was piled high with papers, dockets and plastic sheets. The other was empty, apart from a sculpture that resembled a molecular model – coloured resin balls linked by white struts.
The chair was half-facing the only painting in the room, a sepia portrait of Castellan Fordfarding, an old man with a high forehead, an aquiline nose and thin white hair. He had lived around the time of Rassilon, and was still seen as the greatest holder of the office of Castellan, mainly because of his obduracy and complete lack of imagination. The Doctor made a quick examination of the picture, and found slight pixellation where the painting met the frame. The portrait concealed a scanner screen, one that the current Castellan sat at his desk and studied. So the controls should be on the desk.
It would be easy for anyone to prove he had been here.
He was leaving skin cells, fingerprints, strands of hair, telepathic traces – everything you’d need to identify him but his calling card. The key to this, the Doctor mused as he headed back to the desk, was not to tip anyone off that he had been here. If no one asks the question, then they wouldn’t find the answer. So, he needed to be quick, and he had to be careful not to do anything to arouse any suspicion.
The molecular model was bothering him. It was the only dash of colour in the room.
On a hunch, the Doctor plucked off the top ball, the orange one. The entire model collapsed, showering bits all over the surface of the desk. The balls began rolling away, bouncing off the desk, leaving