03 - Timewyrm- Apocalypse

VIP免费
2024-12-24 0 0 408.06KB 115 页 5.9玖币
侵权投诉
TIMEWYRM: APOCALPYSE by NIGEL ROBINSON
"The things around us are now no more than husks of themselves. From this
point the unravelling will spread until all the universe is reduced to a
uniform, levelled nothingness.
"So it's true!" the Master cried.
"Don't move. Anybody ..." The Monitor's voice came as a whisper.
Instinctively they all obeyed. Even the Master stood in silence,
surrounded by the creak and shuffle of surrounding structures. All eyes
were on the Monitor as he continued. "You have already guessed - our
Numbers were holding the Second Law of Thermodynamics at bay. The Universe
is a closed system. In any closed system entropy is bound to grow until it
fills everything. The deadly secret, unknown until now beyond the bounds
of Logopolis, is this ..." The Monitor's voice trembled, and they had to
strain to hear his next few words. "The fact is, the universe long ago
passed the point of total collapse."
Christopher H. Bidmead, Doctor Who - Logopolis
***
"Night is falling. Your land and mine goes down into a darkness now, and I
and all the other guardians of her flame are driven from our home, up out
into the wolf's jaw ... Cherish the flame till we can safely wake again.
The flame is in your hands, we trust it you: our sacred demon of
ungovernableness . . . child, be strange: dark, true, impure and
dissonant. Cherish our flame. Our dawn shall come."
David Rudkin, Panda's Fen
***
The quotation from Panda's Fen by David Rudkin is published by Davis
Poynter Ltd and is reprinted by kind permission of Margaret Ramsay Ltd.
All rights whatsoever are strictly reserved and application for
performance, etc., should be made before rehearsal to Margaret Ramsay
Ltd., 14a Goodwin's Close, St Martin's Lane, London WC2N 4LL. No
performance may be given unless a license has been obtained.
PROLOGUE
Nothing.
Then warmth. Warm Nothingness.
Then Otherness... Some Thing... Something Else... Something different... Pulsing
... Beating ... Energies - no, lives, throbbing, pulsing, swimming around ...
Feeding ...
Feeding who? Feeding me.
Me? Me . . . me . . . me . . . ME! Me.
Darkness... And then there is light... Bright and cold and real and shocking and
painful light. Blinding me! Calmer now. Comforting. Shadows becoming shapes.
Reactions becoming reasons.
And the light shines in the darkness.
And I comprehend it!
Fifteen billion years ago there was nothing, just a cold, dark emptiness. And
that void was without form or meaning.
Then there was light, a small pinprick of incalculable energy which gave the
cradling vacuum purpose.
Less than a millisecond passed and that superdense ball grew and shuddered, and
exploded in a blazing outburst of energy and particles. They streamed out of its
centre, and met and coalesced, forming new energies and atoms and molecules.
And still the detritus from that first explosion sped ever outwards, reacting
and combining with each other in a marvellously ordered chaos, forming gases and
new elements and solid matter.
Billions of years passed and stars were born and died in the aftermath of the
great explosion. Galaxies were born, and planets created out of that first
cosmic dust.
On those planets, primitive molecules formed complicated chains which, suffused
with radiations, formed even greater chains to create life in all its forms from
the simplest bacteria to complex reasoning beings.
Billions of years passed. Civilizations arose on those planets, and fell, and
rose again. Still the Universe - for that is what those civilizations had called
the aftershock of that first cataclysmic event - expanded ever outwards.
And then it stopped, the force of the explosion finally exhausted. For another
billion years the Universe existed in an uneasy state of equilibrium.
On the ancient planet of Logopolis a group of mathematicians attempted to
maintain that equilibrium. Through a series of complex equations they opened a
series of charged vacuum emboitements - CVEs - which they hoped would stop the
collapse of the Universe. Without them, they knew that the Universe would surely
contract and fall back on to himself, until it finally returned to the state it
was in the beginning.
Their plans were undermined when an unthinking renegade from the legendary
planet of Gallifrey upset their calculations. Logopolis was destroyed. It was
only through the intervention of a mysterious traveller known to some as the
Doctor that the Universe was saved.
Realizing that creation still had much to achieve, he opened a single CVE in a
distant constellation. The Universe had been given a breathing space in which to
prove itself.
Several more billion years passed. Civilizations arose and fell and rose again.
Then, somewhere in the region of a constellation which had once been called
Cassiopeia, the CVE glimmered, blinked, and closed.
CHAPTER 1
"Are you afraid, my son?"
Darien nervously flicked a strand of fine blond hair out of his eyes. "No, my
lord Reptu," he lied, "merely confused."
He looked around wonderingly at the sleek, stark whiteness of the room in which
he found himself, and thought fondly of the finely polished marble and ornate
brocades of his own home.
The old man allowed himself a smile, almost avuncular in its kindness, and his
misty grey eyes sparkled.
"That is to be expected, of course. The sea voyage to Kandasi is long, and the
trip disorientating even to we of the Panjistri." He raised a hand as Darien
protested. "Though the people of Kirith regard us with awe - and rightly so - we
are not so very different from you. You will learn that in your time here."
A door slid silently open and Reptu took his hand and led him out of the room.
The change from the antechamber's stark simplicity was staggering, and Darien
grabbed Reptu's hand even more tightly as he struggled to maintain his balance.
They stood on a narrow metal bridge, which with no apparent means of support
spanned a vast abyss. From the ground, thousands of feet below, huge metal
towers rose from out of a misty blue glow and climbed up the opposite side a
hundred feet away. Pillars of multi-coloured lights alternated with the towers,
pulsing in time to the heartbeat drumming of unseen machinery.
At intervals on the towers there appeared a stylized skull design, the macabre
badge of the Panjistri. The air was tangy with some heady incense and through
the skylights in the huge domed ceiling Darien could see the stars in the night
sky.
Behind the windows of the towers Darien saw members of the Panjistri, the
supreme guardians of Kirith. They were dressed in their customary habits and
skullcaps, some scarlet like Reptu's, others of different colours which denoted
their lesser rank. Each of them went about his or her silent and secret business
and paid no attention to the two newcomers. Curiosity was a mortal failing and
the Panjistri were far more than mere mortals.
"Kandasi, the wonder of the world," explained Reptu matter-of-factly and added,
"It's better if you don't look down." Pulling Darien behind him he marched off
briskly over the bridge, seemingly unconcerned by the lack of any handrail along
the structure.
"You lied earlier when you denied being afraid," said Reptu without any hint of
reproach. "But fear, like mediocrity, has no place here. As we cross this bridge
over the abyss, so we walk the tightrope to our destiny. And our destiny is to
recognize our highest potential and then surpass it. What have you done to
surpass your potential, Darien?"
"My lord? I don't understand," he said, fervently hoping that all the Panjistri
didn't talk in such riddles.
A note of impatience entered Reptu's voice, shattering his air of cold serenity.
"On Kandasi each of us has made his or her way from the burrowing worm to the
sentient beings we now are. We are chosen, special and unique, the seed of the
lightning flash. Each of us has his own special talent. That is why we are
chosen. Tell me what you have to offer the Brotherhood of Kandasi."
"I have some little skill with music, sir," Darien admitted, and kicked himself
as he realized that Reptu would see through the false modesty as easily as he
had through the earlier show of bravado.
Darien had, in fact, been a child prodigy. At the age of five he was already
master of the korintol, the traditional wind and string instrument of the
Kirithons, with its 470 keys and a sound which, it was said, could bring the
stars back to the night sky. The next year he was performing his own
compositions in public: it was said that one of his recitals had even moved the
dark and saturnine Lord Procurator Huldah, leader of the Brethren, to tears!
Now at sixteen he was one of the most respected and popular musicians in his
town. His decision to join the famed Brotherhood of Kandasi to practise and
refine his art had provoked muted protest from many quarters. But as Lord Huldah
had pointed out, it was the greatest honour which could ever be accorded a
Kirithon.
It was not an honour accepted hastily. When members of the Brethren first
approached his parents four years ago, Darien refused. He had no wish to spend
the next ten years of his life with the old men and women on Kandasi Island,
even for the sake of his music; the only decent conversation he'd get there
would probably be from the sheep. His parents were also reluctant for their only
son to leave home quite so soon.
Only his older sister seemed keen on the idea. He would bring shame on the
family if he refused, it was a tremendous honour, a marvellous opportunity to
become the greatest musician and composer of the age, she only wished she had
his talent . . . As Revna had about as much appreciation of music as a dead dung
beetle, Darien suspected the real reason for her enthusiasm was to get him out
of the way and become her parents" favoured child again.
When his father died suddenly in a boating accident, things changed. The Lord
Huldah himself (how that impressed the neighbours!) came in person to offer his
condolences and to spend more than an hour in private conversation with his
mother. Shortly afterwards, his mother joined Revna in encouraging him to pursue
his vocation. At the same time, audiences for his recitals were dwindling,
causing him to doubt his abilities: perhaps a sojourn on Kandasi might revive
his flagging skills after all. Little by little his determination was whittled
away. In the end the only voice of dissent was that of his best friend, Raphael;
and as his musical talents were even less than Revna's (Darien had never quite
forgiven him for once falling noisily asleep during a concert) Darien decided
that Raphael really didn't know what he was talking about.
And so, after some initial instruction from Huldah, Darien had set out for the
Harbours of the Chosen, where he was met by Reptu and taken across the seas to
the Skete of Kandasi, the complex of buildings on Kandasi Island which was the
home of the Panjistri.
"A musician," repeated Reptu as they reached the other end of the bridge and
entered a waiting elevator. The doors, again decorated with the skull motif,
closed automatically behind them and they began their descent. "Tell me, Darien,
did you ever hear of Kareena?"
The boy shook his head and the irritating lock of hair flopped in his eyes
again. He'd never heard the name before. Then he frowned. Kareena. Kareena.
Kareena. Now that he came to think of it the name did sound familiar. He tried
to remember.
"She was a dancer," said Reptu wistfully. "One of the greatest and most
beautiful of the age. Her feet seemed never to touch the floor, and her
elegance, her understanding and empathy with the music were joys to behold.
Perhaps you will write music for her."
"She's here?" Life on Kandasi was beginning to sound better.
"Many have joined the Brotherhood," Reptu answered. "Artists like yourself.
Scientists. Prophets. Men of great wisdom, and women of terrible vision. All
part of the great venture that is Kandasi."
He turned to look at Darien, and reached out a gnarled hand to stroke the fine
down and smooth skin of the boy's round face. Darien flinched at the unwelcome
attention.
"And now you are to become part of that great venture, Darien," he said softly.
"Bear that responsibility well, for much depends on it."
The lift came to a halt and the doors opened on to a small corridor. At the end
of the passageway a pair of large imposing doors opened outwards for them, as
though they were expected.
"I must leave you here while I arrange your quarters," said Reptu. "Make
yourself comfortable and I will return shortly."
Reptu watched the boy walk through the doors, which closed softly behind him,
and sadly shook his head. Such a pity that one had to lie, he thought, and
especially to the young and beautiful.
Darien entered a darkened room. The only illumination was the silvery blue glow
of the moon which shone through a narrow casement. He frowned as he wondered how
the sky could be seen through the window when he had assumed that Reptu had
taken him miles below the Skete.
A shadow lurched from the half-darkness and approached him.
"Welcome, young master," it hissed and Darien instinctively backed away.
The creature was bent almost double, but even standing upright it would only
have been about five feet tall. Its snout constantly sniffed the air and its two
bulbous eyes darted this way and that. Sharp, pointed ears rose on either side
of the weasellish face, and when the creature spoke it revealed yellowing teeth
and sharp, vicious incisors. Apart from its face, the creature's entire body was
covered with thick, matted brown hair.
Darien cursed himself for his fear, knowing that the creature posed no threat to
him. It was a Companion, one of those who accompanied the Panjistri on their
infrequent journeys away from Kandasi, acting as the eyes and ears of their
almost blind and deaf masters.
"Does Fetch disturb you?" said another, quieter voice from the shadows. "Please,
don't be alarmed. He's not as handsome as your people, but he is a loyal friend
and wishes you no harm."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . ."
"Oh please, don't be concerned," said Fetch sulkily and moved away from Darien
to stand at the side of the other figure, who stood silhouetted in the
moonlight.
The voice was female, cracked and ancient, and at first Darien had to listen
carefully to hear her. But despite its softness the voice carried a power and
authority which could not be ignored. Darien peered into the darkness as the
woman walked stiffly out of the shadows towards him.
The first thing he noticed about her were her eyes. Unlike the weakened eyes of
the other Panjistri, hers were piercingly green and sharp; they followed his
every move.
An elaborate beaded headdress framed her finely boned face. It was a face which
had been beautiful hundreds of years ago: now in the strange half-light it
looked hollow and empty. Darien was reminded uncomfortably of the animal skulls
he and Raphael had once found in the moors and highlands outside their town.
Almost seven feet tall, the old woman bore herself regally and upright despite
her age and the obvious discomfort she felt in walking. One bony six-fingered
hand grasped a long ebony staff, plain except for the small carved skull at its
crown.
Like the other Panjistri she wore a long high-collared habit, but hers was of
darkest blue and seemed to be made of a heavier and richer material; it was
edged with decorative braid and glistened in the moonlight. Several slender
chains of silver hung around her neck.
She smiled at Darien, revealing surprisingly white teeth. "Welcome to Kandasi,"
she said, and nodded in welcome. "You are a musician. Please, play for me."
Darien looked puzzled, wondering who the woman was, until he saw a beautifully
crafted korintol at the far end of the room.
Fetch offered him a chair, and as Darien sat the old woman came to his side,
gently laying the long fingers of a bejewelled hand on his shoulder. A shiver
ran through Darien's body and he looked up at the woman's smiling face. "Now
play. Play as you have never played before."
Darien flexed his fingers and began to play. Perhaps inspired by the strange old
woman, whatever doubts he had had about his skills left him and his hands glided
over the keys, coaxing and cajoling hidden sounds from the instrument. The old
woman stood entranced; her eyes were closed and her head nodded gently in time
with Darien's playing.
All the time Fetch looked at his mistress through narrowed, questioning eyes.
With a resounding crescendo of horns and strings Darien finished, leaned back in
his chair, and sighed with self-congratulation: he hadn't played so well for a
long time. He just hoped the old woman appreciated it. He looked up expectantly.
For a moment she stood there, saying nothing. Then her eyes snapped open and her
mouth formed a wistful half smile. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
"I have not heard such music for many years . . . It is good that you have come
to Kandasi, Darien. Now your music will fill our chambers and cloisters till the
stars themselves return to the sky."
A brief glance passed between the old woman and Fetch, who silently left the
chamber.
Before Darien had a chance to wonder how the old woman knew his name, she was
talking excitedly to him about his music, animatedly pointing out the nuances in
his playing, the elaborate structures in his composition, his dexterity at the
keyboard. He was a true genius, she gushed, in ten years" time he would surely
be the greatest musician in all the Ten Galaxies.
Darien frowned and was about to ask the old woman what a galaxy was when Fetch
returned. He brought with him a large crown, encrusted with jewels, its filigree
streaks of gold sparkling and beckoning in the moonlight. He passed it almost
reverently to the old woman.
"Be crowned our king of music, Darien," the old woman beamed, and raised the
crown over Darien's head.
Darien winced: praise was all very well, he thought, but this show of enthusiasm
from a crazy old woman was becoming just a little too embarrassing. It was
probably as well Raphael wasn't here. He couldn't stand ceremony at the best of
times; by now he'd be howling with laughter.
The crown was placed on his head and a surge of well-being swept through him. In
that instant his mind was opened up to all the possibilities before him - the
symphonies he had in him to write, the instruments he could play, the beauty he
would bring into the world.
Dreamily he looked up at the passive, unsmiling face of the old woman. She was
no longer the kindly gushing matron; now she was a fierce determined witch with
greed and lust in her eyes.
And he was afraid.
He cried out in agony. White-hot pain seared through his body and his brain felt
ready to explode. He tried to raise his arms to remove the crown, but they
stayed pinned to his sides. As his flesh peeled and fell smouldering away from
his face and limbs to reveal bone which instantly began to liquefy, one thought,
one name ran through his mind. Not his beloved music. Not Reptu, not Raphael,
not Revna.
But Kareena. Kareena. Kareena. The name he had never heard before.
Now he remembered.
It was the name of his twin sister.
CHAPTER 2
- Well-being.
Secrets half-expressed and never quite explained. And yet I understand them. I
rather like that.
Contentment and harmony. Concord and unity in motion. It's pleasing to me.
Perfect, total symmetry.
Nonono, there is a discordance, a dissonance. Something unexpected and out of
the plan.
I don't like that. It impinges upon my awareness, disturbs me with its intent of
purpose. It upsets all that I comprehend.
How many dimensions can I fit into a box? How many spaces can I fit into one
instant?
But then dimensions are relative. Which must mean they are all the same.
They were all the same, the scruffy little man thought grumpily, as he absently
sucked the finger he'd just used for scratching his ear. Tell them one thing,
and it was ten to one that they would go off and do the exact opposite. At least
Ben had had the good sense to stay in the TARDIS while he stopped off to
replenish his stocks of mercury. But Polly, oh no, not Polly. She said that she
wasn't going to be cooped up in the ship while he went off and had all the fun.
You might have thought she'd have learnt her lesson by now, the little man had
said. After all, their travels together had hardly been uneventful: Daleks,
Cybermen, even cutthroat smugglers. Hadn't she better stay in the safety of the
TARDIS and start showing a little bit of sense?
And at that she'd retorted that it was probably time that he started showing a
little bit of sense. That had hurt. It wasn't his fault that the TARDIS's
mercury supplies were seriously depleted: he could have sworn he'd stocked up
several trips ago. And nor was it his fault that he noticed the lack only when
they had just left a planet whose mercury swamps ensured abundant supplies of
the element.
So she had stormed out of the TARDIS. She wasn't in any danger, of course. The
little man knew the planet and its inhabitants well - they were a highly
advanced and peaceful race, living in small communes, and tolerant of strangers.
But it wouldn't do her any harm at all to see just how well she could really get
along without him. So the little man had purposely taken his time renewing his
stocks of mercury, and it was several hours after Polly had left the TARDIS
before he began looking for her.
And of course, now that the time had come, he couldn't find her. As he walked
the narrow streets of the settlement for what seemed like the hundredth time, he
sulked like the little child he often pretended to be.
"Are you lost, sir?"
He looked down at the small red-headed girl tugging at his dirty frock coat. She
was carrying a battered doll under one arm, and the dirty streaks around her
eyes told him that she had recently been crying. There was a look of concern on
her face.
"Am I lost?" he repeated, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering the
question as he might do a complicated equation. "Well, I don't think so. Not
this time anyway."
He crouched down beside the girl and gave her his most charming smile. She
grinned back. "But I think my friend might be lost," he said. "Have you seen
her?"
"The tall lady with the blonde hair?" the girl offered.
"Yes, that's her," nodded the little man. "Her name's Polly. Do you know where
she is?"
"She's over by the marketplace," she replied, and indicated the way.
The scruffy little man thanked the girl, but as he stood up to go she tugged at
his sleeve. "Sir?" she ventured and offered him her doll.
He sat down cross-legged on the floor and examined the broken toy.
"Everything gets old and falls apart in time," he said philosophically. "It even
happens to me." The child's face fell until he added: "But most things can be
fixed. Let's see what I can do."
The side of the rag doll had been ripped open and its stuffing was beginning to
fall out; one eye was loose and connected to the smiling face only by a single
thread.
The little man emptied one of his pockets, coming across a pair of conkers, a
yo-yo, a bag of glass marbles and an old banana skin before he found the needle
and thread he was looking for. With the expert hand of a tailor he set about
stitching the doll together again.
His task finished, he handed the doll back to the little girl who inspected it
closely and then smiled. "Thank you, sir," she said, and then as an
afterthought: "I like you: you're nice."
His jade-green eyes twinkled with delight. "And I like you, too. Would you like
to hear a tune?"
The little girl nodded and he took an old, battered recorder out of his top
pocket. He warmed even more to his new friend as she clapped her hands and began
to dance in time to the music he was playing. The scruffy little man smiled
smugly. At least there were still people who appreciated good music, he thought:
just let Ben and Polly complain about his playing again!
When he had finished, the girl smiled sadly and said: "I must go now, sir,
otherwise I'll be late for school." She pointed to an approaching figure. "And
there's your friend now."
The little man looked up as Polly approached. He blinked, shaking his head as
his vision blurred.
The girl must be mistaken, he thought: Polly didn't have long dark hair, tied
back in a braid; nor did she have a penchant for lycra leggings, an oversized
leather jacket and Doc Marten boots. And Polly's voice was 1966 Rodean -
vintage, while this one came very definitely from Perivale, West London, circa
1990 . . .
"Oi! Professor! Wake up! Is there anyone in there?"
The Doctor shook his head again, and his vision cleared.
He was in the main control chamber of the TARDIS, standing by the central
mushroom-shaped console, his hands poised over the controls. The transparent
column in the middle of the six-panelled console was slowly falling to a halt,
and he found his hands skipping automatically over the instruments, guiding his
time machine into a safe if somewhat shuddery landing. Then he realized that
someone was tugging at his sleeve.
"Doctor, are you all right?"
The Doctor raised a hand to his forehead, and breathed deeply. "Ace, where was
I?"
His companion shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno. One minute you're humming a Miles
Davis tune, and the next you're totally out of it -"
"Out of it? How long for?"
"Couple of seconds, five at the most. Are you sure you're OK?"
"Yes . . . But nothing like this has happened before . . . Like a voice from my
past, telling me something, reminding me . . . " The Doctor frowned; the memory
was already fading fast. "I was looking for . . . for Polly, yes that was it. A
long time ago . . ."
"Polly? Isn't that the stuck-up Sloane Ranger you told me about?" asked Ace.
"Don't worry, Professor, she'd probably only ask you for a contribution to
Conservative Party funds:
The Doctor's impish face broke into a fond smile and he chucked his companion on
the chin. "Well, she speaks very highly of you. "
"How come? I've never met her."
"Yet: The Doctor grinned infuriatingly and turned his attention back to the
console.
His apparent good humour was for Ace's benefit. Now in his seventh incarnation,
he prided himself on his level headedness and command of the TARDIS, so
different from that of his previous selves. This temporary lack of consciousness
and the implication that he was losing control of things disturbed him deeply.
He activated a touch-sensitive control and looked up expectantly. The panels in
front of the scanner screen remained closed. He tutted, and jabbed at the
control again.
"The TARDIS is getting as absent-minded as you," Ace said. The Doctor merely
looked at her. She remembered what she had been meaning to ask him since the
previous day.
"Professor," she said. "This is probably a silly question, but - are there any
animals in the TARDIS?"
The Doctor was glaring at the scanner. "What?" he said absently.
"Well, it's just that yesterday morning I thought I saw -"
摘要：

TIMEWYRM:APOCALPYSEbyNIGELROBINSON"Thethingsaroundusarenownomorethanhusksofthemselves.Fromthispointtheunravellingwillspreaduntilalltheuniverseisreducedtoauniform,levellednothingness."Soit'strue!"theMastercried."Don'tmove.Anybody..."TheMonitor'svoicecameasawhisper.Instinctivelytheyallobeyed.EventheMa...

展开>> 收起<<
03 - Timewyrm- Apocalypse.pdf

共115页,预览23页

还剩页未读， 继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

相关推荐

更多
立即下载
分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：115 页 大小：408.06KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-24

开通VIP享超值会员特权

  • 多端同步记录
  • 高速下载文档
  • 免费文档工具
  • 分享文档赚钱
  • 每日登录抽奖
  • 优质衍生服务

作者详情

相关内容

更多

热门标签

高考理综 人际关系 配电装置 动力学连接体 力的合成 全宋诗作者索引 公务员考试
/ 115
评分 收藏
分享
立即下载 VIP免费下载
客服
关注