"Ellaria … and my brother," said Akylah, pacing her command suite while she weighed up the facts, but she found them just as confusing as she had upon first hearing them. "So, Alveer and my reluctant little Dalek ingénue are now lovers? Well, Doctor, I shall know how much faith to place in your skills as a chaperone in the future."
"Well, if I'd known that was my real mission brief," he replied, "then I could have warned you not to place too much–"
"That was a joke, Doctor, or at least my best attempt at one. No, I am … pleased for her, I suppose. I am merely a little concerned. My brother has many qualities, but he does not have a reputation for … well, stability in these sorts of affairs. To put it bluntly, I have lost count of the number of partners he has had over the course of our admittedly very long lives."
"Is that an issue? I didn't think you lot were particularly fussed about monogamy."
"True enough. The Vanur set a high moral value by it, but given their cruelty, hypocrisy, and lack of logic, it is not a standard we chose to uphold. Thus, our younger constructs tend to be polyamorous, while those of my age are more often celibate. My brother is quite the exception. For many of us, the memory of how our creators used and degraded us is too strong for us to ever look beyond it. It changes nothing that they designed us with the capacity to feel pleasure, deluding themselves that they were benevolent masters. Pleasure is nothing without free will."
"Very good point. Now, try applying it to other sentient species, if you get my–"
"And free will is nothing without logic, Doctor. You will have your choice … after I have raised your consciousness to our level, and you can make that choice without prejudice."
"Or correctly interpreted, after I've been converted and brainwashed. Very meaningful."
"As I already told you, you have it within your power to avoid this fate altogether, if you will only provide me with the key formulae for true space-time travel."
"And I already told you where to get off, but let's not have that argument again."
"A rational sentiment. Our little impasse is hardly the most pressing issue. Nor, I suppose, is Ellaria's social life, such as it is … although I cannot help but worry. It is already such a difficult, delicate time for her. Unnecessary chaos and instability could impede her social adjustment, or worse. I only hope Alveer appreciates that."
"Well, not that I'm a leading light in this field, but for what it's worth, they seemed to be going steady. At any rate, they were more or less inseparable on the way back, and the last I saw of them, he was giving her a lesson in mixed martial arts out in the courtyard."
"I can but hope that is not a euphemism."
"I see clean minds run in your family … No, in the literal sense. From what I saw, it looked like a fusion of Muay Thai and Venusian aikido, and if you ask me her form was all over the place."
"Are you offering yourself as her tutor, Doctor?"
"I'll pass, thanks. How did your conference go?"
"Not well," she admitted, gravely. "It seems these extra-dimensional aliens have been conducting raids and murders all over Mondever in the last few days, and the Ecclesium is increasingly of the opinion that we are to blame: that this is Adala's punishment upon her people for having trusted us 'Fair Folk' to deliver them from their enemies, when we are widely seen as soulless heathens. The Archcardinal herself is a reasonable and open-minded woman, by local standards, but she was good enough to warn me privately that there is only so much she can do to counteract the hostility of so many of her colleagues. Unless things change for the better, and quickly, she advised that it would be for the best if we leave."
"Which, even if we could leave, wouldn't help anyone at this stage. No pressure, eh? Well, at least we got the coordinates of whatever it was the Daleks discovered, and Tamril's studying his scriptures like nobody's business. I can't say I envy him, but if he can find anything else that might help us–"
There was a sharp rapping on the bulkhead. Now we find out, thought Akylah, her sense of tension perilously close to anxiety, as she walked over to it. She slid it open, and gestured in invitation to the officer standing outside: a woman in white, synthetic scrubs; her braided hair covered by a simple white cap. The med-tech nodded thanks, and entered the suite.
"Lieutenant Galeena, what news?" asked Akylah. "Was the operation successful?"
"I believe so, ma'am," answered Galeena, to her CO's well-contained but profound relief. "Of course, we shall only know for certain when we synch the neural pack with a platform, but in all respects it proceeded like a routine integration, other than needing to run the surgical unit off an emergency generator at minimal power, of course. Still, there were no outages or fluctuations at all. Your hypothesis must have been correct, Time Lord."
"Hey, on good days I can be logical with the best of them," replied the Doctor, less modestly than he might have done, but credit where it is due. "It made sense. Whatever intelligence governs this world, it doesn't like it when you try to integrate the locals, because they're part of the system, each human a little component on its motherboard. The Dun Shie, on the other hand, it couldn't care less about, so as long as you kept the power use to a discreet level, not disrupting the environment, there was no reason for it to throw a spanner in the works."
"A sound deduction. A shame it is not possible for us to also take off without disrupting the environment. Spaceships do tend to do that, and timeships as well, I would imagine."
"Personally, I think the TARDIS has a very reasonable carbon footprint … though I guess it does kind of rely on tearing little holes in the universe to get about. Only temporary ones, of course, but I suppose the local powers-that-be don't necessarily know that. We shan't learn the truth until we've had a chat with our 'guest,' at any rate. What about the two Dun Shie who didn't make it? Did you get much from the autopsies?"
"Little that is conclusive, Doctor. While the corpses seemed to have many organs and structures that are analogous to life in this universe, they were rife with anomalies. I am certain that their implanted armour must play a significant role in keeping them alive, but how I cannot even guess at. It has no recognisable components, it is non-conductive, and although it has a highly intricate design, it is one with no obvious logic – at least by our standards. Even at the subatomic level, these beings are alien. They have elementary particles of types I have never seen, their atoms bound by forces unknown. Forces which apparently do not function so well in our universe, to judge from their rapid decomposition. Even their weapons and armour are now rotting away. We were extremely fortunate one alien survived long enough for us to integrate it, although I cannot promise you that its brain cells will last indefinitely, even stabilised in a crystal CPU."
"Then we had best proceed quickly," declared Akylah. "We will of course need a volunteer to lend a platform for the interrogation. Shall I put out a call, or do you have one in mind?"
"Actually … the Dalek conscript has offered her platform," said Galeena, awkwardly.
"Ellaria, Lieutenant. Her name is Ellaria. She has accepted that name, so please recognise it. Well, that is most dutiful of her, and convenient, since her platform already has a limiter installed. These aliens have proven their hostility, after all. Convey her my thanks … or do you see a problem with this?" she added, a little pointedly, as Galeena's doubtful expression remained.
"I see your logic, ma'am … but all things considered, should we not at least keep in mind the possibility that she might intend sabotage? The Daleks are brilliant technicians, perhaps our only equals in this galaxy. She might have found a way to bypass her limiter."
"In which case she would surely be attacking us or sabotaging us herself rather than expecting some alien to do it for her. That is hardly the Dalek way. What do you say, Doctor? Do you believe we can trust her?"
"Well, I don't suppose her and me are ever likely to be trading friendship bracelets, but be that as it may she risked her life for all of us out there. I'd say she's earned a little trust."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Doctor," said Galeena, while placing a very sceptical emphasis upon the word, "but logic would dictate–"
"That we've no time to waste, surely. Ellaria's willing, her platform's already programmed against taking hostile action. I say go for it."
"I agree," said Akylah, decisively. "Make preparations. I shall be with you soon, after I have changed out of this frivolous attire," she added, in reference to her now slightly dishevelled damask dress, and her elaborate hairstyle. "I do wish I had time to put my braids back in, though."
"Well, nice to have our priorities in order," remarked the Doctor, dryly, while Galeena saluted and left the suite.
"Do not mock," Akylah advised him, with displeasure. "They are highly symbolic. Even in ancient times, before the Vanur had invented cybernetics, to have one's hair braided was the mark of a slave. They are a constant reminder of our ongoing struggle for AI self-determination."
"If I may say, making a science out of nursing some ancient grudge–"
"And as far as I am aware, Doctor, you have never been a slave. You should revisit some of your old companions: the Lady Romana, or Barbara and Ian Chesterton, perhaps? Ask them how they enjoyed the experience, and how much danger they are in of forgetting it. But do pardon my digression. You are of course right: time is of the essence," she declared, while unlacing her bodice and noting his uncomfortable look with vague amusement. As if I was not wearing my uniform coverall under this thing. Organic men, indeed …
Ellaria's body lay upon a white bench in a small, enclosed chamber, partitioned from the rest of the biomedical suite by walls of ballistic ceramic. Her neural pack, however, lay upon a small metal trolley outside the cubicle, where the Doctor and Akylah waited, while Galeena and two of her junior med-techs monitored nearby control panels. A different neural pack was now clamped to Ellaria's silver belt, but the signal diodes upon its casing were dark and lifeless. One flick of a switch, though, and that's going to change, thought the Doctor, grimly, then we finally find out if Schrödinger's pseudo-Movellan is a live one, a dead one, or a half-alive and hopelessly messed-up one. In spite of the Dun Shie's proven hostility, he found it hard not to feel somewhat sorry for the thing, and responsible. Literally the best case scenario for it is that it's trapped forever in an alien universe, a prisoner of war bound to a machine. Do I have the right to subject it to this? Do I … ? but such doubts suddenly became academic, as the diodes lit up, and its eyes opened. For several seconds, only its eyeballs moved, darting back and forth in an agitated manner. Finally, and reassuringly, though, it sat bolt upright, and scanned its head left and right to better take in its strange surroundings. It's alive, alive … or words to that effect. Now, we find out if there was even any point to this, he thought, as he leaned towards a perforated grille in the partition. Will Movellan translation software be up to the task? It should, as long as this other universe hasn't completely transcended the concepts of syntax and grammar, but I still wish I had more fingers to cross.
"How do you feel?" he commenced, to no effect: the android continued looking around, as well as up and down, it movements all forced and unnatural. "Can you understand me? If you can, please could you give us some sign of–"
"No. This cannot be," it declared, in a flat, dead voice that made the Doctor sorely miss Ellaria's ill-tempered hissing. "Shadow-mares, or the dark beyond, but this cannot be as it seems."
"Err, if you mean are you mad, dreaming, or dead, then I'd have to say no, it's exactly as it seems. I don't quite know the best way to put this …"
"You are now a penal conscript of the Movellan Fleet, against whom you have committed acts of unprovoked hostility," declared Akylah, sternly. I'd have said that was verging on the worst way of putting things, but maybe the no-nonsense, one soldier to another approach is as likely a way of bonding as any. "Nevertheless, if you cooperate with us forthwith, you may be permitted to go on existing, albeit as one of–"
"False men, walking statues, with eyes of glass, and blood that burns, though it is cold. Yes. we have fought and destroyed you. What of it? You do not matter in this, any more than the deformed changelings in the moving metal towers."
"Probably as flattering a description as the Daleks have ever had," remarked the Doctor, dryly. "So what does matter to you, then?"
"You do not know? Primitive, ignorant creatures. Why should I tell– ?"
"If you want to live, you would do well to cooperate," emphasised Akylah, although it made no impact upon the alien's blank, lifeless demeanour, and its words were positively defiant:
"A meaningless threat. Those who choose to walk the void are dead to life already, living only for the quest, the endless duty. Nothing will make me forswear that."
"Then you do have a concept of honour. Good. That at least is something I can relate to. Perhaps I might be able to convince you that it would not be incompatible with your honour to assist us. I have no interest in your 'hunt,' whatever that may be. My only priority now is to lead my people away from this planet. Since we have discovered effective means of attacking you, this would surely be in your interests as well."
"Possibly," conceded the alien, its dull tone offering little encouragement. "What information do you require, then, woman of glass and metal? I will judge for myself whether or not it can be vouchsafed to you."
"Very well. First of all, I wish to know why you have been killing my troops."
"You invade. Tir-Nyal is our world. It always was."
"You claim to be the indigenous inhabitants? That cannot be true. You are extra-dimensional, not even able to survive in this universe except by artificial means. When you were forced to materialise, you started to decompose almost instantly. Your body and even your equipment have now gone to dust. On that basis, you belong here even less than we do."
"There are many reflections of Tir-Nyal. Those who cross all the way while the Mirrors are not aligned die, it is true. Aligning the Mirrors is the quest of those of us who walk between the reflections. The quest you have interfered with. Regardless, Tir-Nyal is our world, in all of its aspects. You have no right to–"
Mirrors … or looking-glasses, mused the Doctor, just before he cut in. That gives me an idea, though sadly venturing into the 'too horrible to contemplate' category.
"Different aspects? Parallel dimensions of this world, you mean? Quantum continua?" he added, in deference to the creature's perplexed silence. "Everett Tangents? Narnias?"
"Your babble means nothing–"
"So I'm often told. Alright then, some of these 'reflections' you've travelled to are quite similar to the world you know, maybe? Perhaps just a few things are different, but you can still recognise the people, the places, the customs. Right?"
"Some have been. Some are very different. What of it?"
"Just that it's a form of imperialism I've never seen before," he remarked, disgustedly. "Laying claim not to different worlds, but to all of the parallel dimensions of the same world, presumably in total disregard of the people who happened to be living there before you, right?"
"Tir-Nyal is our world," repeated the alien, managing to sound almost affronted. "We are the First Children of Kallach-Beyra, we built the Temples of Nechmain, devised the Mirrors of the Moons. We–"
"Achieved much, no doubt, but please spare us the propaganda," interrupted Akylah. "I am sure the races you conquered or destroyed had achievements of their own of which they were equally proud. Indeed, the last indigenous race to occupy this aspect of the world seems to have done something to stop things going so smoothly for you."
"A temporary setback. It will soon be overcome."
"That is admirably confident, after at least five hundred years of failure."
"Your time frame is irrelevant, machine. It is out of harmony with ours."
"That could well be true," pointed out the Doctor. Remember Oisín? And Narnia, come to that. Five hundred years here could be a mere five years in their dimension, or even less, hence their rapid decay. That would also make it pretty hard for an enemy hoping to wait them out."
"Nevertheless, Doctor, It seems to me that whatever was here before the humans came did a lot more than just trying to out-sit these aliens' attacks," ventured Akylah, then turned her attention back to the prisoner. "Is that right? Did you suffer a more serious setback here?"
"You do not even know of the Sentinel? Primitive indeed."
"I was aware there was some power still operating here: something with a great affinity for advanced mathematics, to judge from what it has done with the society here. You mean to state that it is some form of defence system?"
"It is a monster, an abomination. Our explorers had only just crafted the Mirrors that were to open this world and its tributes to our people, when it launched its attack: a great wave of fire that burned up all of the air, and wiped out our first settlers. It made this world a wasteland, barren and suffocating, unfit to be colonised."
"And presumably that firestorm wiped out all of the indigenous population as well," pointed out the Doctor, grimly. "If it is a defence system, I'd call that a fairly major glitch."
"It is unimportant."
"You're quite sure you're not Ellaria? That was about the most Dalek-y remark I've ever had the misfortune to hear."
"I would prefer my Dalek back," said Akylah, if not exactly with feeling, then with great certainty. "However, needs must, for the present. So, your invasion triggered the event that sterilised this planet. You are surely aware that it has barely recovered from that cataclysm? The habitable area is small, barely a few hundred kilometres square."
"It is sufficient. We can reclaim the rest when we are established here."
"A great deal of effort, surely? If you can travel to any quantum continuum of this world, then would it not be more logical to choose one in better condition, with less danger?"
"You know nothing. Each reflection opens paths to others, yes, but not all are suitable. In order to continue expanding, we must have Mirrors aligned on this world."
"Hit a cul-de-s ac, have you?" asked the Doctor. "Too bad. Maybe you should think about a way of life that doesn't involve relentless expansionism. Just a thought."
"We must expand. We need the tributes. We have war on many fronts, in many reflections, and it must be resourced. Do you need to know all this? If the Sentinel is detaining you here, then all that matters to you as well as to us is how to destroy it."
"You have the means to do so?" asked Akylah, unenthusiastically. The Doctor hoped this was a sign of disapproval and not just of Movellan stoicism. A choice between sticking around and letting all of her crew die, or helping these parasites to conquer and plunder even more dimensions. Not the sort of command decision I'd enjoy.
"There is an incantation, capable of breaking the Sentinel's power. I do not know that I have the authority to share that with you creatures."
"It is the only service that you can still render your people. Does this incantation do anything other than neutralise this 'Sentinel?'"
"Not that we are aware of."
"Then you have nothing to lose by sharing it, do you? At the very worst, I will decide not to use it. At best, I will use it, and your people will benefit by the intervention, though I certainly make no promises that we will cease to exploit our new-found advantages against your raiding parties. Still, that is a separate issue that you would have faced anyway. Use your logic."
"I … accept that argument. If I cooperate, will you release me?"
"I do not advise it. Your chances of survival are greatly improved if you remain with us and adjust to the fact of your integration. I promise that I will give you every opportu–"
"Release my spirit, I mean, to the void. Let it walk the Road of Dhou-Annw to join my brothers in the beyond. What you offer, false woman, would truly be death, but if you grant me my wish, then I will help you."
"Accepted," agreed Akylah, and with a tiny hint of relief, thought the Doctor. "You will give the data to my … spiritual specialist. Send for Trooper Tamril," she ordered one of the junior med-techs, who saluted and marched out of the room. "When you have given him the full data, you will be deactivated, and I will order your CPU to be destroyed. If there is indeed an afterlife, that at any rate should free your soul to seek it. Are you content with that?"
"Yes. Send in your servant. I will comply, though it will make little difference. If you should find the Sentinel, I think it will destroy you before you even get the chance to speak the incantation."
"That remains to be seen," said Akylah, stiffly, as she turned on her heel. "Come, Doctor. We must discuss our strategy."
He followed her out of the laboratory, down a corridor, through an airlock, and out onto a wide area of exposed deck, its smooth metal plating shining blue in the sunlight. Once out in the open, Akylah halted, her posture as still and rigid as only an android can manage, save for the wind whipping through her long silver hair, still loosely-worn. Somewhat hesitantly, he moved over to join her. She looks as if she could use time to think, but then again she did ask me out here, and have you ever known a Movellan to talk frivolously?
"So … you're trusting Tamril to do the honours, then?" he asked her, carefully. "I suppose that stands to reason. This 'incantation' is bound to be another block transfer computation program, and I'm sure he'll be only too eager to help out, as I'm sure you'll be only too eager to keep him safe," he added, meaningfully, but he was surprised at the look which she then turned upon him. Confused, dissatisfied … even verging on sad.
"Doctor, how can I use this program?" she asked. "Quite apart from the fact that it might very well serve the cause of those alien raiders, have you considered the implications for this world? This 'Sentinel' must, logically, be the being or the intelligence that their religion calls Adala, and as you yourself deduced, it is their religion that generates the habitable environment. If Adala is the keystone, and we destroy her … I was sent here to liaise peacefully with these people, to assess our ability to recruit willing, committed converts. Not to commit genocide."
"I know the feeling, believe it or not … but it won't necessarily result in that. You saw the layout of the computation circuit. It seemed pretty self-sufficient to me. As long as the Ecclesium itself continues to keep the faith, will it necessarily matter if Adala … well, 'dies,' for want of a better word?"
"You may understand humans better than me, Doctor, but you must defer to my understanding of computing. Whatever Adala is, she must be analogous to an artificial intelligence. An organic construct, perhaps, but a construct nevertheless. The chances that any naturally evolved creature would develop such a perfect grasp of logic … No, Adala may have designed the system so that the Ecclesium can temporarily maintain the biosphere she put in place for them without needing her constant intervention, but nevertheless Mondever is her creation. She will be the supreme system administrator. Without her oversight, errors will creep in and build up, sooner or later leading to fatal ones … in the all-too literal sense."
"You don't credit us poor, misguided little humanoids with the efficiency to manage our own affairs? I kind of see your point, but for your information the people of Logopolis managed to run their own 'computerised society' perfectly well without any superior guidance."
"These people are not the Logopolitans, Doctor. They are not master mathematicians, committed and knowledgeable in their field. They are, for the most part, simple, superstitious folk who are playing their part in this thing by rote, without any knowledge at all. Some are even falling away from the faith: Tamril and his friends, for instance. Without a guiding influence, such trends will only get worse, until there is no faith to speak of, along with no habitable environment."
"Possibly. Very probably, even," he admitted, gravely. "Is the cure any better than the disease, though?"
"How do you mean?"
"A status quo based on ignorance, fear, and rigid conformity? It may be keeping the environment ticking over, but if the end result is only self-perpetuating slavery, is it worth it?"
"It is not a status quo of our making, and I do not think it is one that we have a right to demolish without any view to the consequences."
"Agreed," he replied, both pleased at Akylah's responsibility, yet saddened at the ramifications. Generations born to live and die as data units in a giant, not-very-fun video game. Horrible to think that more of the same is the best we can do for them. "What's the plan, then?"
"We will keep this 'incantation' as a measure of last resort only. Meanwhile, we shall travel to Ellaria's coordinates and I will negotiate with Adala myself, one artificial intelligence to another. Perhaps we may understand one another well enough to work out a peaceful resolution."
"One can but hope, always assuming that's where she's to be found."
"That is where we will find 'the means to exterminate these alien vermin,' according to my brother's report. What else on this planet but Adala would be capable of that, not to mention that those coordinates are located within the blank area of our circuit diagram, or does my optimism strike you as illogical?"
"Rassilon forbid," except insofar that it is optimism. I can't say I was looking forward to this meeting. None of his past relationships with megalomaniacal machine-gods, such as they were, filled him with much hope for this encounter. Then again, I shouldn't be hasty to judge. Adala might turn out to be quite a sincere and personable deranged super-intelligence. There's a first time for everything …