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away.
Adric returned his attention to the microscope. There was a small catch at the base. Making sure
neither Varsh nor Keara was watching him, he flicked the catch and a small hinged panel fell open,
exposing the inner workings of the microscope.
Exposing an image translator in perfect working order.
Adric delved into his pockets, producing the Doctor's broken image translator. As quickly as he
could, he removed the image translator from the microscope and inserted the TARDIS component in
its place. He popped the stolen image translator into his pocket and sealed the microscope again.
Adric gave the image translator in his pocket a brief pat, smiled to himself, and moved away from
the microscope.
This would be a pleasant surprise for the Doctor, he thought to himself.
The Doctor ducked and veered away from Romana's snarling lunges, all the time trying to reason
with her. 'Look,' he said, 'you've got alien protein in your brain tissue. I've not had a chance to
analyse it yet, but the effects are probably only temporary...'
During all this the Marshmen watched on, silent yet attentive.
Romana lunged again and the Doctor nimbly side-stepped the swoop of her left arm.
'Please don't do that,' he said. 'Listen, this is your sort of problem. Psychopathology. Why are you
doing this? Think about it.'
Romana attacked again. The Doctor almost slipped and fell as he ducked to avoid her grasp.
'Why attack me?' he asked. 'I'm the Doctor, Romana. The Doctor!'
Romana lunged forward with renewed vigour, and the Doctor brought his hands up to defend
himself.
Romana suddenly stopped dead, transfixed by the sight of K9's head, held in the Doctor's hands.
The Doctor noticed this reaction, and saw a glimmer of hope for his companion. 'Yes,' he soothed,
'it's K9. You remember K9, Romana?'
There was a slight frown on Romana's forehead. Clearly, she did remember.
The Doctor reached out and stroked the doors of the TARDIS. 'And the TARDIS? Remember the
TARDIS? Of course you do. The TARDIS, Romana...' His voice had adopted a smooth, hypnotic quality
which held Romana under its spell.
She approached the TARDIS, running her hands over it, old associations stirring dimly within her.
'Romana... I have some research to finish,' the Doctor cooed. 'I'll be in the Science Unit.
Understand? You stay by the TARDIS... the TARDIS... stay by the TARDIS...'
Slowly, he backed away, his eyes darting from Romana to the horde of Marshmen around him and
back again. The Marshmen made no move to stop him as he slowly backed into the passageway
and headed off, clutching K9's head close to his chest and thanking his luck.
The Marshmen moved towards the TARDIS, to join Romana in appreciating this peculiar object.
As they came near, Romana swiped at them, driving them back, snarling at them, warning them by
her actions that they should come no closer.
And indeed they held back.
There was a vast commotion of talk and movement in the Great Book Room. Login, Nefred and Garif
stood in their galleries surrounded by stacks of manuals, leafing through them for information and
advice. All around them, large numbers of citizens scuttled about, moving to and from the various
book storage galleries, fetching new books to aid the Deciders.
Login was considering an engineering blueprint of the vessel. As former chief engineer he was best
equipped to interpret the diagram. 'It might be possible to seal off the substructure,' he considered
aloud.
'No,' said Garif, 'it seems they are already inside the main hull.'
'The bulkheads, then,' Login suggested.
'One recourse, certainly,' Nefred placated. He sounded less than convinced.
Login drew himself up to his full height, determined to have their attention and to decide on a
course of action. 'Nefred. Garif.' They reluctantly turned to hear what he had to say, and he
indicated areas on the blueprint before him. 'We must close these bulkheads, and these, and we
must gather the citizens in here at once.'
'Yes, I can see the plan has some merit in it,' Garif muttered, already scuttling away to another area
of the galleries to consider a fresh cluster of manuals gathered by the citizens.
'And we must do it quickly!' said Login, infuriated by his colleagues' indecisiveness. 'Are we Deciders
or aren't we?'
'We must certainly respond to this crisis on a real-time basis, Decider Login,' Nefred placated, as
though speaking to an over-eager child. 'But appropriately.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]