The Ghosts of N-Space - Barry Letts [89]
I could have been one jump ahead, instead of trailing behind trying to catch up.’
The Doctor took a sip of vino. ‘I strongly suspect that the Babylonians would have noticed it first, Very hot on astrology, the Babylonians; and as alchemists, well, what better symbol for the orbit of a comet could you have than Orobouros – the dragon who’s perpetually swallowing his own tail?’
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The Brigadier had been scribbling calculations on a bit of paper. ‘Are you suggesting that the presence of this comet in, er…’ He consulted his paper.’… in 1504 and 1818, and of course this year, was somehow mixed up in all this hooha with Vilmio?’
‘No doubt of it,’ said the Doctor. ‘To find the elixir of life by binding together the earthly body and the N-Body; and then to break through into N-Space as Maximilian has done; I’m not saying it would be impossible without the presence of the comet. But when it was overhead would undoubtedly be the most propitious time.’
Propitious! He sounded like the official soothsayer to a medieval court, thought Sarah.
‘Come off it, Doctor,’ said the Brigadier. ‘You’ll be having us consulting the entrails of a goat next.’
The Doctor laid down his fork. ‘Thank you, Roberto. A feast fit for a king indeed.’ There was a murmur of agreement from around the table (and a snore from Mario, who, having retired to his big chair by the dead fire to read The House at Pooh Corner, had promptly fallen asleep).
‘Swinging, man,’ replied the surrogate King of Rock, and picking up his guitar, he launched into a sotto voce rendition of ‘Such a Night’ to cover his pleased embarrassment.
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‘Tell me, Lethbridge-Stewart,’ went on the Doctor, ‘are you familiar with the mathematics of potential psycho-physical stresses in the metaphorical surface-tension of the boundary between this world and N-Space?’
‘Not so as you’d notice,’ said the Brigadier.
‘I thought not,’ said the Doctor.
Jeremy couldn’t get to sleep for a long time. His campaign to prove himself was hardly turning out to be a success, in spite of his spectacular exhibition of marksmanship.
At last he went down to the great hall and borrowed one of the books from the pile by Mario’s chair. Tanglewood Tales it was called. But even after reading a couple of the stories, he was as wide awake as ever.
He fell asleep at long last, having come to the conclusion that his best chance of showing that he wasn’t the wimp everybody seemed to think him was to stay close to the Doctor and Sarah. She’d seemed to be really taken with the story of his sharpshooting prowess – and he’d lost any chance of impressing the Brigadier once the real shooting started.
After breakfast the next morning – a breakfast of newly baked rolls which proved Umberto to be right back on form
– he overheard the Doctor saying that he was going to ‘start 312
as soon as possible’, so he discreetly stuck to his tail. He wasn’t going to miss another chance of a trip in the TARDIS.
‘But I don’t understand,’ the Brigadier was saying as he followed the Doctor in and out of the police box. ‘If you say you now know how to mend the crack in the barrier, why not get on with it? Trap the blighter in there. Serve him right. From what you tell me, it isn’t exactly Saint Tropez.
What’s the point of going in after him?’
Back into N-Space! thought Jeremy. Amongst all the fiends?
‘Firstly,’ said the Doctor, taking out the strange construction which was the heart of the OB Transducer and dumping it by the beds, ‘I couldn’t do it just like that. I understand the principle now, thanks to the text Maximilian was using back in 1504, but I’d have to induce a stress in the psycho-spatial structure which would duplicate the warping effect of the comet, as I’m sure you’ll understand.’
Was there a touch of sarcasm in his voice? If so, the Brigadier was ignoring it. ‘And secondly?’ he said, following the Doctor back into the TARDIS.
Jeremy nipped over to the open doorway to see if he could hear the answer – and was just in time for a near collision as they immediately returned, with