Doctor Who_ Ultimate Treasure Part 5

'So I give you: luck and destiny. May neither let us down!'

As they drank, Arnella noticed that Brockwell, who was seated opposite her, was wearing a troubled expression. Professor Thorrin apparently noticed it as well.

'Why the long face,Will?' he asked benevolently.

Brockwell looked uncomfortable. 'Uh, sorry, Professor. It's just that I can't help wondering... about the treasure.'

'Well?'

Brockwell was obviously unhappy about appearing to contradict his employer, but he spoke up. 'Well for one thing, we're acting as though it'll be lying around just waiting to be picked up.'

Thorrin chuckled tolerantly.'Hardly. We're prepared for a long search, if need be, but we can already narrow down its scope.

From all the evidence, Rovan abandoned his s.h.i.+p voluntarily.

Therefore, it must have been on a habitable world. But the system is listed as being uninhabited, at least by any intelligent life. We have equipment aboard that can detect traces of any artificial structures or a quant.i.ty of refined metal at considerable distances. Rovan did not have the means to conceal it from any such detailed search, but then why should he? The only clue to where he unloaded his h.o.a.rd was his s.h.i.+p, and it was a remarkable chance that it was ever discovered.

Surprisingly, Brockwell raised another question. 'Well, after five thousand years, what chance is there that it'll still be where he left it. Suppose somebody else has already taken it? According to the Ymerl log a lifeboat was missing. Suppose Rovan used it later to move his h.o.a.rd.'

Unexpectedly Arnella found herself agreeing with Brockwell.

'Yes. Sometimes I've wondered that myself,' she added, almost timidly.

The Marquis flashed a disappointed glance at her, but said confidently, 'A lifeboat would be far too small to transport anything but a fraction of the treasure. Remember, the search continued for years and huge rewards were offered for any clue leading to Rovan or the recovery of the missing treasure. If any item had turned up, whoever had traded it would have immediately been questioned. There is no evidence Rovan ever used his stolen wealth, and every reason to suppose the bulk of it is still waiting to be discovered.'

'And we shall find it,' Thorrin said, raising his gla.s.s once more, then leaning back in his chair easily. 'Now, enough of negativism.

At the risk of tempting fate, have you any more thoughts on what you plan to do with your share, Rosscarrino?'

'Only to restore my family's proper rank and position,' the Marquis replied automatically. 'I shall be able to reclaim our ancestral estates once more, and ensure they are managed as they should be.'

'What about you, Professor?' Arnella said quickly. 'Have you any special plans?'

Thorrin blinked, as though surprised by the direct question, but responded smoothly: 'Why, it's always been my dream to found an inst.i.tute for pure scientific research. There must be thousands of worthy projects currently denied funding because of commercial or governmental shortsightedness. Think what tremendous advances and discoveries might be made by turning those baubles of Rovan's to practical use.'

'I trust you do not deny the value of the craftsmans.h.i.+p that went into shaping those "baubles", Professor,' said her uncle.

'As long as you do not deny the beauty in science, Marquis,'

Thorrin countered.

Arnella frowned as their conversation fell into good-humoured and inconsequential banter. She saw Brockwell's eyes meet hers across the table, and for a moment she saw the same concern mirrored in them, before he looked away in his usual awkward manner. But the brief contact had confirmed her suspicion. She knew her uncle had not told the whole truth just then - but what was Thorrin concealing from them?

The Newton Newton drove smoothly on though hypers.p.a.ce. Behind it, just out of detector range and quite unsuspected, the nondescript grey s.h.i.+p followed along the same course. drove smoothly on though hypers.p.a.ce. Behind it, just out of detector range and quite unsuspected, the nondescript grey s.h.i.+p followed along the same course.

CHAPTER 6.

RESCUE.

Peri made the best of their enforced confinement on Astroville by spending further instructive and educational time in the archives. She was curious to find pictures showing the Cartovallian royal family looking quite human, even though they had been taken some four thousand years before Earth developed interstellar travel. The Doctor explained that the humanoid form was already widespread throughout the galaxy long before then, adding vaguely that 'my people' were partly responsible. That was obviously another story in itself, but for the moment it was the mystery of Rovan that intrigued Peri. One question still remained unanswered after five thousand years.

What could possibly induce a man who apparently had everything to give it all up?

Then, after a week, came a summons to police headquarters.

It was Jaharnus's sergeant who informed them that the report from Earth has been satisfactory. They were no longer suspected of any involvement in the death of Hok and were free to leave Astroville. The TARDIS key was returned to the Doctor, who signed a receipt for it without comment, though his quiet relief was evident. Peri was less restrained.

'So the inspector didn't want to apologise face to face for keeping us here all this time, huh?' she said bitterly.

'I'm sure she was only doing her job,' the Doctor said, with what Peri considered infuriating forbearance.

'The inspector is involved in another aspect of the case,' the sergeant explained. 'She sends her apologies for any inconvenience - and hopes you have enjoyed your stay on Astroville.'

The Doctor hustled Peri out before she could say another word.

'Even allowing for the circ.u.mstances, you seem very impatient to leave,' he observed, as they glided down the tower's thousand-metre-long pa.s.senger shaft.

Peri looked at him hopefully. 'Well, I was sort of wondering if we could use the TARDIS to go back in time and, maybe find out where Rovan leaves his treasure and -'

'Collect it for ourselves?'

'Sure, why not? It wouldn't do any harm, if it's been lost all this time anyway.'

'Wouldn't it? If Rovan's treasure was discovered before its proper time, how do we know what effect it would have on the last five thousand years? The information in the archives that you've been studying might never have been written, which means a segment of your own timeline would have to change as well. Perhaps Hok would never have obtained whatever information it was those three thugs were after, and so we wouldn't have disturbed them and the last few days would never have happened as they did, and we wouldn't be here now. It would create a temporal paradox and I try to avoid them if possible. Besides, spying on Rovan to see where he hid the treasure wouldn't be -'

'I know: it wouldn't be cricket.' She was silent for a moment, then added thoughtfully: 'Still, there's no reason why we couldn't try to find it now, is there, since we've gotten mixed up in it anyway, I mean? That's what everybody else seems to be trying to do.' She frowned. 'I just wish I could remember those numbers Hok said. They must have something to do with where the treasure is hidden.'

'You mean 385.06 by 946.573 by 157.67 positive? Yes, I suspect they're galactic navigation coordinates.'

She looked at him in amazement, which rapidly turned to annoyance. Doctor! Why didn't you tell me you remembered? Do you know how long I've been racking my brains over them? And why didn't you tell Inspector Jaharnus?'

'I thought it might cloud the issue. Priorities tend to get misplaced where large sums of money are involved. It shouldn't matter why Hok was murdered, just the fact that it was an unnecessary death.'

'But we're going to use them ourselves now, right? Because that guy calling himself Falstaff wrote them down, so we can get on to his trail. And he might know who the actual killers were.'

'And finding Rovan's treasure doesn't come into it?' the Doctor asked, his eyebrows raised in mild interrogation. 'Well... can't we try to do both?'

'It might be dangerous.'

'Doctor, I'll kick myself for the rest of my life if I pa.s.s up a chance to go on an honest-to-goodness treasure hunt.'

He smiled tolerantly. 'All right, then. But there's something I want to check up on first.'

Half an hour at Astroville traffic control and some honeyed words had produced a list of all the craft that left Astroville during the twenty-four-hour period following Hok's murder.

If we encounter any of these where we're going,' the Doctor said, scanning the list rapidly, 'we shall know who to watch out for. Ah, and here's our pseudo-Falstaff's vessel I suspect.

Peri looked at the name he was indicating. ' The Merry Wife The Merry Wife?

Oh, I get it: from The Merry Wives of Windsor The Merry Wives of Windsor, right?'

'Yes. A jolly little play, but Bill dashed it off too quickly, I always thought. I told him it could do with another revision, but the Queen wanted to see it performed as soon as possible and...

well, never mind.'

'Sometime, Doctor,' Peri said sincerely, 'you are going to tell me all about meeting W. Shakespeare. Meantime, can we get going?'

The official police seal had gone from the TARDIS door. Peri was glad to be back inside the familiar console room, with its dimpled walls and subdued hum of power. Even though she had known it only a few days, she felt there was something strangely homely about the TARDIS, almost as though it cared for her.

Seeing the way the Doctor beamed paternally as he circled the hexagonal main console, checking the systems and feeding Hok's coordinates into the navigational unit, it was certainly easy to believe it was alive.

'I just wish Falstaff hadn't got such a big lead on us,' Peri said anxiously. 'Those crooks might also be out there by now. We don't know what they got out of Hok before we b.u.t.ted in.'

'Remember,' said the Doctor, 'a journey that may take them days we can make in a few minutes of our time.'

'Will that get us there first?'

'By a few hours, I should think.'

'Can't we go back a few days and get a proper head start?'

'No. Crossing your own timeline puts the fabric of time and s.p.a.ce under great strain. It can be dangerous.'

'Uh, how dangerous, exactly?'

'Terminally.'

'Oh, well I guess we'll give that a miss.'

The Doctor called local traffic control and informed them they were ready to leave, closed the airlock and checked that the docking tube had retracted. He smiled as they were given a s.p.a.cial departure corridor to follow, and let his fingers flicker across a series of contacts. Peri felt a little thrill of antic.i.p.ation.

She'd consciously experienced this moment only once before.

The transparent cylinder containing a complex glittering mechanism mounted at the centre of the console began to rise and fall. At the same time a deep pulsing whirr reverberated throughout the s.h.i.+p, gradually rising in tone and frequency. As it faded out into a shrill note beyond human hearing, the incongruous blue box, whose external appearance had so puzzled Inspector Jaharnus, vanished from the vicinity of the Astroville docking tower.

The TARDIS was on its way.

'How long will we be in flight, or whatever you call it?' she asked the Doctor as he studied the displays with a satisfied expression.

'About eight minutes, relatively speaking.'

'Just time to freshen up then.'

Bag slung over her shoulder, she had taken a dozen steps down the corridor towards her room, when a sudden urgent beeping sound emanating from the console brought her running back.

'What is it? Something wrong?'

The Doctor was working the controls rapidly, his face set and intent. The beeping faded and died in a burst of static, then grew stronger again. 'A hypers.p.a.ce distress beacon on minimal power.

Somebody's in trouble. Interestingly enough it seems to be in normal s.p.a.ce on a line between Astroville and our destination.

I'm trying to get an exact fix on it... ah.' He touched another sequence of switches and the descending tones of rematerialisation sounded.

The scanner screen, which had a moment before been filled with the grey of the deep interdimensional void, now swirled with colour that resolved into a hard image. It was the interior of a s.p.a.cecraft cabin, dimly lit by green-tinted emergency lights.

Trailing wires were strung about the walls, and several gaping splits in the bulkhead were patched over with strips of glistening transparent plastic. In one corner was a discarded pile of emergency-ration-pack wrappers and several oxygen cylinders, while in the other was a large chair. Looking up in astonishment from it, a section of disa.s.sembled control panel resting across his knees, was the man who called himself Sir John Falstaff.

'A remarkable contrivance you have here, Doctor,' Falstaff said five minutes later, after they had taken him and his few salvageable belongings on board. He had recovered his composure with remarkable speed.

"T'was most fortunate that you heard my hails, for I was beginning to give up hope of salvation, and commend my soul to G.o.d and beg his understanding for any trifling transgressions I may have committed over the years. But now I can rest easy once more. Have you any decent food aboard? I am a shadow of my former self. Bad enough to be so disabled by a device planted in such a knavish manner, but the blast destroyed my source of fresh victuals, since when I have had to survive on morsels that would not keep a church mouse alive.'

Peri, however, was in no mood to play along with his fantasy.

'You can drop the act. We know you're a phoney,' she said scathingly.

Falstaff looked affronted and hitched his belt a little higher over his ma.s.sive belly. You accuse Falstaff of being an imposter, Mistress Brown? What, old Jack? Never.'

'I think you should know, we are familiar with the work of William Shakespeare,' the Doctor said helpfully. 'Even if he is currently out of fas.h.i.+on in this part of the galaxy.'

To their surprise this did not appear to trouble Falstaff. 'Ah, so you have heard of my chronicler.'

'Chronicler?' Peri exclaimed.

'Certainly. Thou didst not think such a man as Jack Falstaff could be conjured out of nothing by some pen scratcher? The fellow used some licence with my adventures, I grant you, but Falstaff was cut from whole cloth.

'Falstaff was a fictional character,' Peri insisted.

'No, you have it turned about. The fiction came after the fact.

'Well if you are the real Falstaff, that would make you about fifteen hundred years old. Unless you've also got a -'

'Another means of travel,' the Doctor cut in. He looked at Falstaff narrowly for a moment, then said a few words in a flowing tongue, to which their guest stared back at him blankly.

'No, I didn't think you were Gallifreyan. So how do you claim to have lived so long?'