Geban noticed the Pakhar visibly relax. Things were going to be all right for all parties concerned. Geban had not been chancellor all his life, but he could recognize diplomacy when he saw it. And this Keri exuded it with total professionalism.

'Tell me more about this hologram system you have brought to Peladon for the festivities. It is not a technology we possess yet. I would like to understand it better.' The king indicated for Keri to sit on a stool beside him.

She sat. Geban turned to leave, but Tarrol requested that he stayed.

Keri outlined her business. She evidently enjoyed her work for all her moans and bl.u.s.ter, and seemed immensely pleased at her successes.

'. . . and so you see, Your Majesty, it converts the images to electrical impulses and beams them back on a subs.p.a.ce carrier wave to Io. There they are re-sent and spread amongst the Federation worlds. Your whole restatement vows can be witnessed by anyone who wants to see them.'

'But if they don't want to see? I should hate the Federation to feel that they had to watch something that they did not want to watch.' The king still seemed perplexed.

Keri smiled. 'Please do not take offence, Your Majesty. Should they not want to watch, they simply turn their image of you off.'

There was a pause as the king digested this information. Then he smiled.

'You are indeed fortunate. I only wish certain people on Peladon could beturned off' when I do not wish to see or hear them.'

Geban nodded.

Ker'a'nol looked at the two men and smiled. 'Ah,' she understood. 'You don't mean High Priestess Atissa by any chance?'

None of them saw Atissa standing at the back of the throne room. She had entered by the right-hand pa.s.sage, that led directly to the living quarters - a route only she and Geban were allowed to use. As she stood and listened to herself being ridiculed, she felt anger welling up inside. And a deep shame. Her king considered her a joke. The Pakhar, Ker'a'nol had encouraged this, she had placed the idea in Tarrol's mind.

Atissa swept out as silently as she had entered. Keri did not realize it, but she had just made herself a very, very bad enemy.

2: In a Gla.s.shouse

's.p.a.ce. Vast, dark and cold. Tiny pinp.r.i.c.ks of light reveal planets and stars.

Across the interminable distances between each pinp.r.i.c.k, minute specks float. These specks are s.p.a.cecraft. From many different worlds, many float. These specks are s.p.a.cecraft. From many different worlds, many different races, but all with one common aim: to be somewhere else. different races, but all with one common aim: to be somewhere else.

The foremost craft of the Galactic Federation, the Deep s.p.a.ce Cruiser Bruk, owned and piloted by the Martian Star Fleet, is one of the largest and Bruk, owned and piloted by the Martian Star Fleet, is one of the largest and sleekest vessels ever constructed. To those fascinated by interstellar sleekest vessels ever constructed. To those fascinated by interstellar travel, it is the sort of ship that they will go anywhere just to catch a glimpse travel, it is the sort of ship that they will go anywhere just to catch a glimpse of. of.

Ship spotters queue for hours on end at s.p.a.ce ports to see it arrive or depart. To admire its craftsmanship, wallow in its splendour, note its depart. To admire its craftsmanship, wallow in its splendour, note its registration number and discuss for hours the many trips it might have registration number and discuss for hours the many trips it might have made, the things it might have witnessed and the miracles it might have made, the things it might have witnessed and the miracles it might have performed. performed.

For some, however, it is just a mode of conveyance, something to take you from A to B and, hopefully, back again. from A to B and, hopefully, back again.

Ship spotters call such people soulless - less pa.s.sionate people call them pa.s.sengers.' pa.s.sengers.'

The Ship Spotters' Almanac (53rd Edition) Ed. J. V Way.

AD 3908 Bowketts Universal Publications The first thing Bernice noticed as she followed the Doctor out of the TARDIS was the smell, like fresh, slightly damp roses. Sniffing at the overwhelming scent, she followed the Doctor down a long Perspex corridor, deserted apart from an automated service robot which appeared to be washing the walls. Outside, the unlikely combination of bright green gra.s.s, palm trees and a few multicoloured shrubs which she knew instinctively were not from Earth bathed in the light reflected from the spires.

'You've missed a bit.' The Doctor patted the service robot and pointed to a smear on the perspex wall with his umbrella.

Apologies,' squeaked the robot and hurriedly set about resquirting, rewashing and repolishing the offending mark.

Nodding to himself, the Doctor continued his amble, leaving Bernice to commend the robot on its speedy rectification.

'Doctor,' she called, 'far be it from me to pry, but where exactly are we headed?'

The Doctor said nothing but pointed forward with his umbrella.

'Thanks. That's a great help,' Bernice muttered and decided to keep up with the Time Lord. Familiarity, in her case, bred further familiarity and she knew from experience that if she lost sight of the Doctor, she might spend years on Io without finding him. Somehow, that didn't really appeal.

They continued their walk for the most part in silence. Occasionally the Doctor would point out a particular bush, fruit or animal outside and reel off its origin, but apart from this small talk, Bernice realized she would get no answers to her questions just yet.

After about a twenty-minute walk, by which time the TARDIS was a speck on the horizon behind them, Bernice could hear the soft burble of voices.

As they continued it got louder and she realized that their route was going to meet at a T -junction with another, an apparently busy, noisy one. A few minutes later they stopped at the end of their corridor and Bernice was impressed.

In front of her, for the most part ignoring her, what seemed like hundreds of people walked or ran along the connecting corridor. She stared hard: very few humans, she thought, but many humanoids, although some were of colours she'd never seen. Come to think of it, they were colours she couldn't have even imagined! As they mingled amongst them, the lights far above seemed to reflect on the faces of some of them, although she noted that it tended to be on the more exotic species rather than what she could only think of as bog-standard humans.

After another ten minutes of walking the Doctor stopped and looked around and above them. Then he looked left, right and back the way they had come.

'You don't know where we are, d'you?' Bernice tapped her foot against the pavement.

He touched her foot with the tip of his umbrella to stop the tapping and looked up at her with a sheepish smile. I wouldn't say that.'

'Well, what would you say, then?'

The Doctor coughed slightly, swung his umbrella up and started counting sections off along it. He then slung it over his shoulder and started counting and pointing in various directions. While all this was going on, Bernice raised her eyes heavenwards. She smiled politely at the pa.s.sers-by who looked intrigued or bemused by the strange-looking man who muttered and pointed to himself. She shrugged her shoulders at one tall blue woman who looked as if she were about to ask whether the Doctor required some kind of medical attention but then seemed to change her mind at the last moment.

After a few minutes, a dark-clad militaristic human wandered over. 'Can I help you?' he asked, his soft voice a startling contrast to his severe uniform.

I hope so,' muttered Bernice. 'Where's the nearest bar, I need-'

'Directions as we're rather lost,' finished the Doctor, dropping the point of his umbrella to the metallic floor rather heavily to attract Bernice's attention.

As usual,' she added, determined to be right for a change, and giving the Doctor an I told you so' look.

The security guard smiled warmly. 'Don't worry, Doctor, you're not too far off the right track.' Both he and the Doctor ignored Bernice's astonished gape and the guard started giving directions. When he'd finished, he gave the fuming Bernice a winning smile and sauntered off.

'Do I get an explanation, or do I a.s.sume the entire universe will recognize you wherever we go?' In reply the Doctor placed his arm around Bernice's waist and said, I knew I was on the right track. This way.'

Bernice was pleased to see that Federation hospitality was exactly as she had expected it to be. Lots of drinks on offer, lots of friendly faces and a majority of their hosts had two arms, two legs, one head and smiled a lot.

Of course, a smile to them could be the equivalent of a snarl to her, but as neither of her ankles had been bitten off, she a.s.sumed they were friendly aliens.

On arriving at what appeared to be their main destination they had been whisked up seventy-seven floors to the suite of the Cantryan commissioner, whom it now appeared was not only the current chair of the Federation Council but also an old friend of the Doctor's. Then again, she thought, so was everybody she ever met. Christmas cards must be a nightmare!

Although in her time there had been much co-operation between the various species that inhabited the galaxy, wars and bickering were still constant thorns, p.r.i.c.king away at the good relations. Bernice was glad to see that things had apparently changed for the better. From what she could see and had briefly noted from the TARDIS databank, the Galactic Federation was a ma.s.sively successful inter-species exchange programme. As new planets applied for - and usually received - membership, so a cultural cross-pollination occurred as each new planet brought something new to the Federation while receiving the combined wisdom and services of every other planet.

The Cantryan commissioner was overwhelmingly charming, and his suite of offices positively radiated welcome, the decor, furniture and plants all serving to reinforce a relaxed atmosphere.

The only change to this occurred at the point the Doctor asked the commissioner about his family. As far as Bernice could gather from listening in, the commissioner's eldest daughter had died recently in an accident on a distant frontier world. Once the Doctor had offered the relevant condolences, the topics of conversation grew more pleasant and cheerful.

After a while, Bernice was left in a small room adjoining the one where the Doctor and the commissioner sat talking. It was cool and well shaded; the Doctor had said something about the Cantryans not liking too much heat or light. Few plants, but lots of paintings were dotted around, and Bernice flopped down on a large soft chair, sighing in comfort after the long walk.

After her eighth sigh (she was getting bored by now), Benny was pleased to hear a door behind swish open. She looked up expectantly, but it wasn't the Doctor. Instead, a Cantryan youth stood awkwardly, holding a try of drinks and trying not to look p.i.s.sed off.

'You look p.i.s.sed off.' Bernice swivelled her chair round to face him properly.

The boy stared back at her for a moment and then strode into the room with all the manner of someone desperately trying to give the impression that he owned the place. Benny decided that tact on her part was necessary and so stood up in greeting.

'Nice place you've got here, I have to say. Nice plants. Nice pictures, too.'

Evidently she wasn't getting anywhere. 'Nice wallpaper,' she added without thinking.

The boy sighed. 'What wallpaper? It's painted granite. Even a human can see that!' He p.r.o.nounced 'human' as 'hooman', and made no attempt to hide his sneer at the word.

Be pleasant. Be nice. It's his home. Benny tried to smile but his rudeness had clearly offended her jaw muscles. All she could manage was an exaggerated rictus grin. Gritting her teeth, she resisted the urge to knock his down his throat and took a gla.s.s from the tray. 'Thank you.'

The boy, like most Cantryans Bernice had seen in the tower, was astonishingly slim. Orange skin that resembled bad sun-tan lotion was about the only thing that immediately struck her as vaguely alien. On closer inspection, Bernice noted that Cantryans only had three thick fingers on each hand and also noted the lack of fingernails. Her mind sped through her mental catalogue of aliens, but nothing came to mind to indicate anything similar about any other race she'd studied or encountered. Except Sontarans, she suddenly remembered. They only had three fingers. They'd also have shot her and the Doctor by now, so it seemed fairly safe to a.s.sume there was no relation.

The boy looked about fifteen and had bright eyes that somehow promised a far warmer soul than was being presented. However, it was his face that caught Bernice's attention. Etched into the skin to the side of his right eye, just on his temple was a rectangular image. At first she thought it was a tattoo or some such decoration but as she stared she realized it was slightly metallic; filaments embedded into a few centimetres of his face. It reminded her of a very complicated micro-electronic chip board, like those in the personal microfaxes of her time. As he pa.s.sed her a beaker she noticed that the first finger of his hand had a similar set of filaments embedded in it. She realized that it must have been these tiny implants that had been reflecting the light on the faces of the crowds she had spotted earlier. Clearly this was some kind of custom that she had yet to properly encounter.

Apparently aware that she was staring, the boy withdrew his hand quickly as she took the drink.

It's only a Neysc.r.a.pe,' he said.

Oh. Right,' replied Bernice.

He shrugged indifferently. 'I s'pose you're one of those Gaia humans. Don't like the cybers.p.a.ce net and refuse the implants.'

Bernice thought quickly. Oh, it's not that. It's just that we travel so much, neither the Doctor nor I have had time to - ' The boy had already turned away, presumably bored of her explanation. 'Oh well,' she thought and sipped the drink. Instantly she began coughing. The boy looked immediately amused.

'My apologies, Professor Summerfield,' he said without any trace of regret in his voice. 'The Doctor suggested you would prefer what he called "the heavy stuff".'

Bernice shook her head, and tried to speak. Her voice came out as no more than a pained whisper. It . . . it's no problem. Just a bit stronger than I'm used to.' She cleared her throat and took another sip. 'Not having one yourself?'

The boy shook his head. 'Liquidized Guntha guano is not a delicacy on Cantrya. I don't think I would like it.'

As what he had said sunk in, Bernice stared at her host, then at her gla.s.s and then back at the boy. Clearing her throat again, she gingerly placed the gla.s.s on the table in front of her. 'Very nice,' she lied.

'I'm glad it pleases you.' He was also lying.

'So. D'you work here all the time?' Bernice wasn't sure what 'work' entailed, but this youngster was the only company she'd had for a while. And however hostile, a bit of mental one-upmanship would pa.s.s the time so she decided she wanted to make the most of it.

'Yes. The man your friend is with is my father.'

'So it was your. . .' Bernice stopped herself, but not in time.

'Yes, my sister Damajina. We have grieved, so please do not be embarra.s.sed.' There was a pause before the Cantryan boy continued. 'We do not see many Tellurians these days. What is Earth like?'

'Haven't been there for a few . . . years,' she said evasively, thinking that such a straightforward question had to have a suspicious meaning to it.

'Have you been on other planets or in s.p.a.ce?'

G.o.d, this was desperate conversation! Bernice tried a smile. 'Oh, a bit of both really. I'm an archaeologist.'

'Oh, how fascinating. I've been to the Horun ruins on Phaester Osiris. It was boring.'

Bernice nearly gagged. The Horun ruins - but they were just legend! 'They found them! When?'

'Well, over three months ago, I think. It's been on all the newscasts . . .' The boy trailed off and Bernice realized her expression must have been pure astonishment.

'After all these years . . .' Suddenly she thought that she was probably scaring the boy. Poor sod, thinks he's in a room with a madwoman. Still, it wasn't her fault that the Doctor hadn't told her exactly what century they were in. 'Well, I'd like to visit them sometime. For once, the Doctor can take me where I want to go.'

'You'll be very bored. The place is just full of stupid people from the stupid Braxiatel Collection with stupid trowels taking three days to uncover half a stupid metre. A drilltech would be far quicker. . .'

'You heathen! The reason they're taking their time is to preserve what's there!' Benny was suddenly furious. Furious with this boy for his dismissive att.i.tude towards the Horun ruins; furious with the Doctor for not telling her what century they were in and furious with herself for not being there. She swigged down more of her awful drink.

The boy suddenly laughed. 'So it's true. You humans really don't have a sense of humour!'

Bernice looked in astonishment at the boy as he flopped into one of the chairs. 'Hey, relax, human. I was only joking. Well, about the drilltech - the ruins were boring. I only went as a diplomatic courtesy. My father was still investigating . . . my sister's death.' His smile had gone.

'Were you two close?' she offered.

The boy nodded. 'We were friends more than anything else. Jina was far older than me. She was a sort of archaeologist, too. Like you. I miss her.'

'You seem to know a lot about me. I'm afraid I can't say the same of you.'

My name's Damakort. They call me Kort. And researching my father's guests is second nature to me by now. I've been doing it ever since I could read.'

'You like it here on Io? With your father?'

Kort shook his head, suddenly sullen again. I want to go home. I'd even agree to see my mother. My father wouldn't let me. Said it was important for me to follow a diplomatic life.'

Benny shrugged. 'Seems a bit harsh. Isn't there anyone else here of your age to talk to?' Again Kort shook his head. 'There was . . . My father doesn't understand me,' he said after a pause.

'How many youngsters have said that over the centuries?' Kort suddenly went into another sulk. Benny wasn't sure if this was genuine or another sham. Oh look, if you can't take a bit of a joke, then there's no point in talking,' she said, as reasonably as she could. After all, you started this.'

Kort looked up and a smile spread across his face. I like you. I'm going to enjoy travelling with you in the TARDIS.'

Benny gaped. 'Now wait a minute -' There was a shout from the next room.

It was the Doctor's voice.

'We'll continue this conversation later,' she said, getting up.

As Bernice went through the door Kort nodded slowly. And smiled. Things were going well.