The Brig took it and riffled through. Sarah sauntered across and did her best to peep past his arm as he found the page.
‘Yes, here it is,’ he said. ‘I thought so. There’s a sketch map as well as the drawing of what it looks like; and it shows the other landing place. Look here, Andrews. See it? An opening in the cliffs. I know that it’s only rough, and it was drawn in nineteen thirty-three...’
‘Nineteen twenty-three, actually,’ said Chris.
‘Whatever. And they were Swedish...’
‘Norwegian, I think.’
‘Pipe down, Chris,’ said his Commanding Officer.
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Not British, anyway,’ went on the Brigadier. ‘But it does show that there’s an alternative route, which is pretty clear of scrub, up to where the spring comes out. And that’s at the foot of the hill. We’d be foolish in the extreme to attempt a frontal assault up the road...’
Sarah frowned. That’s just what he’d been planning to do before the mist changed everything, wasn’t it? Oh, but of course, then it was just a matter of arresting some men and women. Now they were actually going to attack a gang of alien monsters.
‘Lord alone knows what sort of weaponry they’ll have,’ the Brig was saying, ‘so we need to take them by surprise.’
Pete Andrews took the book from him and studied it. ‘Mm.
And with any luck, they’ll see us leaving the lagoon, and take it for granted that we’ve sailed back to Bombay.’
‘Exactly. But we have to get a move on. Okay?’
‘Come in, Doctor! I was half expecting you.’
He paused in the entrance to Dame Hilda’s room. No longer the marble apartment, albeit small, that would have graced the palace of a Roman emperor, its rough walls of volcanic rock enclosed a space that was more homely and snug than luxurious. There was a couch piled with cushions, which probably served as a bed, a small table and a couple of easy chairs (made well enough from the local bamboo), with more cushions.
Did the Skang need such comfort, or was it pandering to whatever was left of the human she had once been? It seemed impossible that he’d seen the white-haired old lady sitting a few feet away turn into a grotesque alien.
‘Sit down. Have you hurt your leg? You must be tired after that exhausting climb.’
Could she read his mind?
She laughed as she saw his face. ‘No, not telepathy –
more’s the pity - just simple logic. There is no other way you could have got into the temple without meeting a guard.’
After the cremation of Will Cabot’s Skang body, and a repe-tition of the unearthly chanting that had heralded the first bodily transmutation, the gathering of Skang had resumed their human shape; and as they did so, the rest of his empathy for the warmth of their oneness fell away. They were now no more than a bunch of disparate human beings going about their business as casually as a bunch of aldermen at the end of a local council meeting.
Most, the Doctor gathered, were going to prepare their flocks for the coming ceremony - so it was not so imminent after all. Watched somewhat quizzically by Hilda, Brother Alex, practically unrecognisable in his recovered human form, had gone through the slowly dispersing crowd like royalty on a walkabout, receiving congratulations and giving thanks to his supporters, exiting through the front to a light scattering of applause. Dafydd, after a moment’s hesitation, scuttled after him.
The Doctor, having marked where Dame Hilda had gone, had realised that the only way for him to get down to the gallery where the living-caves were was to jump.
Thirty feet.
If he had been regenerated into a younger body, there would have been no concern. Or if he’d kept in training. But this incarnation seemed to prefer riding on various forms of mechanical transport to exercising. Indeed, it seemed dis-inclined to do more than break into an occasional gentle jog.
Perhaps he should take up some form of sport. He’d always fancied cricket.
Still, once the amphitheatre was clear, there was nothing for it but to have a go.
Which is why he was limping slightly as he arrived in Hilda’s cave.
‘Will you have a drink?’
‘Thank you, no.’
She smiled again. ‘Do you know, I had a strong suspicion that might be your answer. I think we need to talk.’
‘I quite agree,’ replied the Doctor, sitting down opposite her.
Hilda leant back with her elbows on the arms of the chair and put her fingers together, her forefingers lightly touching her lips, in the age-old gesture of a university don in a tutorial waiting to listen to the lame excuses of a benighted undergraduate for a missing essay.
‘I saw everything,’ said the Doctor. Straight to the point.
Get her off guard.
‘Of course you did.’
A perfect parry.
There was a moment of silence.
‘The question is, why have you come? You’re not a foolish man, and yet it seems a foolish thing to do.’
She was as ready as he was to speak plainly. Very well, he’d match her directness.
‘I hope to persuade you to abandon your enterprise, Dame Hilda,’ he said.
Again she laughed. ‘You’ll have a job!’
‘We’ll see. But first, I need to ask you some questions.’
She settled back into her armchair. She was enjoying herself. ‘Fire away,’ she said. ‘I’m willing to tell you anything you want to know.
‘You don’t believe me,’ she went on, seeing his slight frown.
‘You think you’ll get the edited version, the one for public consumption.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘As in our last conversation,’ he said.
Dame Hilda shrugged. The circumstances are somewhat different, I’m sure you’ll agree. There’s no reason any more for me not to be frank. You see, you’ll never leave the temple alive.’
As he’d expected. But was she aware of the corollary of that statement? ‘Then you’d better be careful, Dame Hilda. If that’s the case, I’ve nothing to lose.’
‘I can see that. Nevertheless, it’s the truth.’ She hesitated.
‘Unless, of course...’
Again the hesitation.
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless, Doctor, you’re willing to become a Skang yourself.’
Dafydd had been quite proud of the way that he’d garnered support for Brother Alex. But when he saw the master himself at work, he had to acknowledge that it was only right that he should take second place in the coming reign of the Skang.
‘I already have the promise of more than seventy per cent,’
Alex was saying to Brother Joseph.
Seventy per cent? So far it couldn’t be more than forty...
Ah, but Brother Joseph didn’t know that, did he?
‘But the last thing we need is another visit to the talking shop. The time has come for action, direct action.’
‘I’m listening,’ replied the man from Poland.
‘If we leave it until after the Prime Assimilation, it will be too late. We’ll be stuck with Nanny Hilda in the foreseeable future. Is that what you want? Or would you rather be in charge of your own destiny?’
In charge? Joseph wouldn’t be in charge, thought Dafydd, with a shiver of satisfaction. Thank goodness he’d gone along with Alex. It was working out for the best after all.
On the other hand, Joseph had been near the top in the secret police before he’d defected to the West. He knew all the tricks. Yes, it might be a good idea to consider putting him in charge of security.
Alex, another scalp in his belt, strode on through the gathering groups of the faithful, seeking out especially those amongst the teachers and organisers who had the necessary ruthless streak, with Dafydd trotting happily after him.
‘To be truthful, I’ve been wondering why you are not one of us already. You’re not a human being, are you?’
She really was a remarkably astute woman, thought the Doctor. ‘I’m a nearer cousin than the Skang,’ he said, ‘but no, I’m not human.’
‘That would explain it.’
Was she making him a real offer? And did she expect him to take it seriously? He remembered how he had felt only too recently, and shuddered. It would be easy to be seduced. But how could such a thing be possible?
‘How can I even consider such a thing unless I know everything about the Skang?’ he said. ‘Every detail. You fobbed me off once before. How do I know that you won’t try again?’ How indeed?
‘I told you no lies, Doctor. It was nothing but the truth. Not the whole truth, I admit. But when can anybody know the whole truth of any matter?’
The Doctor reminded himself again that the being he was dealing with was not only a professor but the recipient of the recently introduced Nobel prize for philosophy. If he could make her angry, perhaps she would give herself away.
‘That, my dear Hilda, is as neat a bit of sophistry as I’ve heard for years.’
‘Touché!’
She was taking it all far too lightly. He must bring her down to earth... ‘I remember what you said verbatim. “The Skang pierces the very heart and mind...” But it’s not only the mind that is pierced, is it? The Skang are space parasites. Isn’t that right?’
Hilda was no longer smiling. ‘It might seem that the Skang is parasitic. I would prefer to see its life process as symbiotic.
What, after all, is the purpose - the most sublime aim - of a human, of any life beyond that of the mere animal?’
‘The “good life”? That will be debated as long as intelligence lasts,’ replied the Doctor.
‘To be free from suffering, to be happy in this existence, and ultimately to experience the joy of the unity of being that lies beneath the world of appearances. Would you disagree with that? And that’s exactly what we offer.’
‘If I were offered the
Mona Lisa
for a fiver, I’d know it was a fake. I can buy paradise on the street corner of any big city -
yes, and end up as dead as your victims.’
He wasn’t succeeding in making her angry, but her response was passionate.
‘They are
not
victims! They die, yes, but who will not? Are you immortal, Doctor? You didn’t finish your quotation.
“...the devotee vanishes forever in the ecstasy of the divine union.” Remember?’
Careful! He mustn’t let her make
him
angry, or the advantage would swing to her side. ‘How very uplifting! Presumably your prey...’ He lifted a hand to stop her interrupting him. ‘I presume that your prey - and I use the word advisedly - as they’re injected with the digestive enzymes, also get their
“reward” - a massive overdose of the hallucinogen you use to give them their earthly paradise. No wonder they die in ecstasy. And all to supply food - and a psychic orgasm? - for a tribe of interplanetary leeches. Or am I wrong?’
For a moment he thought he’d succeeded. A flash of something very like anger passed across her face. But it was instantly replaced by her usual expression of calm and equanimity.
‘A most unpleasant image, Doctor. May I offer you a more wholesome one? A swarm of bees. It’s difficult to tease out whether the swarm itself is the individual or whether it is the particular bee. But each bee gathers the honey to feed the hive - and in return gives life to the next generation of the flowers it visits.’
‘In return for what is taken, the Skang heals the wound in the human spirit. All those born on this planet know only too well the emptiness that lies beyond their deepest yearning.
The Skang fills that gap. Perfect symbiosis. My students would probably have called it a win-win situation.’
‘Let me explain. I don’t know whether the Great Skang...
and of course this is merely what it is called on Earth... I don’t know whether there are a lot of them out there, or if it’s a solitary mutation. I would suspect that there are countless examples, otherwise I can’t see how it could have evolved in the first place. But I know only the one. It has drifted through space for ages past.’
‘Aimlessly drifting? That hardly fits the facts.’
Dame Hilda nodded. ‘You’re right of course. It controls its path by the interaction of gravity and its own psionic energy.
You might call it a colony of proto-Skang, with one consciousness and one purpose - to search out planets with intelligent races, which can feed its need for the psionic energy that keeps it going.’
The Doctor was beginning to understand. ‘And when it chances upon a possible world,’ he said, ‘some scouts leave the swarm and fly off to make sure that the honey exists and can be gathered?’
‘That’s right. And the colony waits. It’s waiting now. The Great Skang himself is in orbit, just beyond the moon.’
‘...and I feel sure that there’ll be many opportunities. With the colossal task that lies ahead, I shall need your help, my dear. There has been far too little female input so far. Mother Hilda’s unconscious jealousy, perhaps, of those who are younger and... let’s be frank... more attractive!’
Sister Till, from Holland, blushed. But she didn’t take her hand away from Alex’s.
Silly old bat, he thought. Fifty plus and counting, with the face of a frog and a figure to match. ‘In any case,’ he went on, with a twinkle and the suspicion of a wink, ‘it’ll give us an opportunity to get to know each other better.’
She opened her eyes very wide. Had he gone too far?
She took a deep, visibly shivering breath. ‘Oh! I’d like that,’
she murmured, when she managed to speak.
Alex, with a hint of the famous smile so beloved by his caricaturists, moved on through the gathering disciples. He’d spotted another possible.