alcoves. Chris hadn’t any energy left to be overwhelmed and so snatched open the locker and brought down the medical kit, a large metal suitcase-affair that was stencilled with a red cross. Then he hefted it up and ran back up the corridors, into the main room and through the impossibly not-matching doors that led to the Professor’s study.
He burst out to see that the girl had propped up the Professor’s head on a selection of hardback atlases. ‘Professor? Can you hear me, Professor?’ she was calling.
‘Mistress,’ said K-9 in tones Chris was sure contained a hint of sympathy. ‘His mind has gone.’
‘You said part of it, K-9.
‘Affirmative,’ said K-9. ‘But the part that remains is now totally inert.’
Chris dashed over and set down the medical kit. ‘Thank you,’ the girl said cursorily and opened it to reveal a bewildering array of bizarre-looking instruments, including a stethoscope with two chestpieces, a big box of very ordinary-looking sticking plasters and a large translucent collar that looked something like a neck-brace, all of it tangled up in a length of oddly striped bandage.
Working quickly and efficiently, the girl fitted the collar around the Professor’s neck and operated a switch built into its underside. Tiny green lights began to flash on the collar, with a beep rather like a hospital’s heart monitor. But instead of a single beep, the rhythm was a faint but steady beep-beep beep-beep.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Chris.
‘He’s breathing and his hearts are beating, so his autonomic brain is still functioning,’ said the girl. ‘This collar can take over those functions and leave his autonomic brain free.’
Chris was baffled. ‘What good will that do?’
‘He should be able to think with it,’ said the girl, looking anxiously down at the Professor. His eyelids fluttered, a tiny movement for just a second.
Chris shook his head. Now this was something he did know about. ‘Hold on, think with his autonomic brain? No no no. The human brain doesn’t work like that. The different functions are separated by…’
He trailed off as the girl looked up at him with an expression that was deeply pitying, as if to say You can’t really be this stupid .
‘Unless of course,’ said Chris shakily, ‘unless, that is, unless…’
‘Yes?’ said the girl, like a schoolmarm encouraging a particularly backward pupil at the end of a long Friday.
Chris looked between the girl, the robot dog, the police box and the Professor. ‘Unless the Professor isn’t human?’
The girl smiled and extended a hand. ‘I’m Romana. And neither am I.’
Chris shook her hand and to his surprise wasn’t instantly transformed into a block of ice.
‘I am a human,’ he confessed. ‘Is that OK?’
Chapter 21
THE DOCTOR WAS nosing around the ruined spectrograph, examining the innards with the aid of a slender metal probe that occasionally whirred, buzzed and lit up. He had told Clare it was a sonic screwdriver. Clare had so many objections to that, but she pushed them to the back of her mind and got on with carbon-dating the book using her own equipment in the far corner.
‘Quite incredible,’ muttered the Doctor.
Clare nodded. ‘The book has no discernible atomic structure whatsoever, Doctor.’ No other man – or indeed woman – had ever reduced her to the role of lab assistant. For some reason, she found she didn’t mind. It felt perfectly natural to be handing him tools and test tubes and asking helpful questions, as if it was something that you just did with the Doctor.
He looked up from the spectrograph and pocketed the sonic screwdriver. ‘Simple pseudo-stasis,’ he said airily. ‘The more interesting thing is this.’ He tapped the spectrograph. ‘The book must have stored up vast amounts of sub-atomic energy and suddenly released them when the machine was activated. Now does anything strike you about that?’
‘A few things,’ said Clare. ‘What in
He burst out to see that the girl had propped up the Professor’s head on a selection of hardback atlases. ‘Professor? Can you hear me, Professor?’ she was calling.
‘Mistress,’ said K-9 in tones Chris was sure contained a hint of sympathy. ‘His mind has gone.’
‘You said part of it, K-9.
‘Affirmative,’ said K-9. ‘But the part that remains is now totally inert.’
Chris dashed over and set down the medical kit. ‘Thank you,’ the girl said cursorily and opened it to reveal a bewildering array of bizarre-looking instruments, including a stethoscope with two chestpieces, a big box of very ordinary-looking sticking plasters and a large translucent collar that looked something like a neck-brace, all of it tangled up in a length of oddly striped bandage.
Working quickly and efficiently, the girl fitted the collar around the Professor’s neck and operated a switch built into its underside. Tiny green lights began to flash on the collar, with a beep rather like a hospital’s heart monitor. But instead of a single beep, the rhythm was a faint but steady beep-beep beep-beep.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Chris.
‘He’s breathing and his hearts are beating, so his autonomic brain is still functioning,’ said the girl. ‘This collar can take over those functions and leave his autonomic brain free.’
Chris was baffled. ‘What good will that do?’
‘He should be able to think with it,’ said the girl, looking anxiously down at the Professor. His eyelids fluttered, a tiny movement for just a second.
Chris shook his head. Now this was something he did know about. ‘Hold on, think with his autonomic brain? No no no. The human brain doesn’t work like that. The different functions are separated by…’
He trailed off as the girl looked up at him with an expression that was deeply pitying, as if to say You can’t really be this stupid .
‘Unless of course,’ said Chris shakily, ‘unless, that is, unless…’
‘Yes?’ said the girl, like a schoolmarm encouraging a particularly backward pupil at the end of a long Friday.
Chris looked between the girl, the robot dog, the police box and the Professor. ‘Unless the Professor isn’t human?’
The girl smiled and extended a hand. ‘I’m Romana. And neither am I.’
Chris shook her hand and to his surprise wasn’t instantly transformed into a block of ice.
‘I am a human,’ he confessed. ‘Is that OK?’
Chapter 21
THE DOCTOR WAS nosing around the ruined spectrograph, examining the innards with the aid of a slender metal probe that occasionally whirred, buzzed and lit up. He had told Clare it was a sonic screwdriver. Clare had so many objections to that, but she pushed them to the back of her mind and got on with carbon-dating the book using her own equipment in the far corner.
‘Quite incredible,’ muttered the Doctor.
Clare nodded. ‘The book has no discernible atomic structure whatsoever, Doctor.’ No other man – or indeed woman – had ever reduced her to the role of lab assistant. For some reason, she found she didn’t mind. It felt perfectly natural to be handing him tools and test tubes and asking helpful questions, as if it was something that you just did with the Doctor.
He looked up from the spectrograph and pocketed the sonic screwdriver. ‘Simple pseudo-stasis,’ he said airily. ‘The more interesting thing is this.’ He tapped the spectrograph. ‘The book must have stored up vast amounts of sub-atomic energy and suddenly released them when the machine was activated. Now does anything strike you about that?’
‘A few things,’ said Clare. ‘What in
Similar Books
