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Instalment Six - Instalment Six

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Chapter Seven

Bakr was suddenly awake. He knew he had been sleeping with the clarity of thought and senses that only comes in the second of re-awakening. Immediately he was on his feet, and looking round.

Something had disturbed his rest. Probably it was just a gust of wind, but it might be a jackal or some other potential danger. Since he was the look-out, he should be aware of whatever it was. If he failed to give the alarm in good time, he could forfeit some or all of his meagre wages. And that was all the money he and his family would have to live on for the next month at least.

All seemed in order. The breeze was getting up now after the calm earlier in the evening. Bakr completed a second tour of the camp without incident, and made his way finally towards the excavations. He paused on the ridge above the entrance to the pyramid, and peered down into the pit.

Again, all was quiet. But just as Bakr was about to move away, a faint glow caught his eye. It was coming from the doorway into the pyramid. A trick of the light surely, a star reflecting from the darkly polished stone. But he had better check. There was nothing else to do, after all.

Bakr stumbled his way down the steep side of the pit, his bare feet sinking into the soft ground and sending warm sand skidding down ahead of him. He was forced to increase speed as he made his way down, and almost pitched over when he arrived at the bottom.

Regaining his balance, Bakr saw that the door into the pyramid was standing ajar. The faint glow he had noticed earlier was growing steadily brighter, and the wind rolled around the bottom of the excavations, moaning and buffeting its trapped way round the hollow.

Bakr edged closer to the doorway, stepping lightly and feeling the fear rising in his stomach. He leaned forward and peered round the edge of the door into the corridor beyond. With a sigh of relief that was lost in the sound of the wind, he saw that the glow came from an oil lamp held by the leading figure of a group of people heading down the corridor towards him.

Assuming that the party inside the pyramid consisted of Kenilworth and his colleagues, Bakr pushed the door fully open and raised a hand in greeting. He was keen to show that he had been keeping his vigil efficiently enough to know that they were there. But as the figure carrying the lamp reached the entrance, Bakr could see that it was not Kenilworth.

It was Simons. Simons with skin so pale it almost glowed in the lamp light. Simons with deep, dark sunken eyes which reflected nothing. Simons with sunken cheeks and dried blood down the side of his face and staining his jacket. Simons who had been dead for days.

Bakr was still struggling to understand what was happening, when Simons gave a short nod to the figure behind him. It stepped forward, out of the pyramid and in front of the light so that all Bakr could see was the silhouette. The silhouette of a huge frame, arms outstretched as they reached towards him. The enormous bandaged hands closed like clamps round Bakr\x92s neck, and he felt the edges of the linen wrappings as they bit into his throat.

His choked cry drifted away, lost in the sound of the wind.

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Atkins was awakened by the noise. He glanced at his pocket watch, laid out neatly on the chair beside his camp bed. It was early, too early for the camp to be rousing. But he could hear the Egyptians shouting to each other, though not clearly enough to make out what they were saying. He pulled on his clothes, checked his tie in a small shaving mirror resting beside a bowl of cold water, and set off towards the sound.

The Egyptian workers were all gathered round the supply tent. They seemed to be having a conference of some sort, huddled together and all talking at once. Kenilworth and Macready stood nearby, obviously having dressed hurriedly. Atkins guessed they too had been roused by the noise. They were conversing in low tones with the Doctor, whose attire seemed as casually immaculate as ever.

\x91I\x92m sorry, sir, I failed to appreciate that there was an incident until just now.\x92 Kenilworth nodded to Atkins and completed his words to the Doctor. \x91We still have some blasting dynamite from the excavations. I could arrange to blow the sand down into the pit and cover the entrance completely.\x92

The Doctor shook his head. \x91No point, really. I think whatever it was has already happened. The desert will close up the excavation site and seal up the pyramid again in a week or two anyway.\x92

\x91We shall be long gone by then,\x92 Macready said. \x91Too late for - what did you say his name was?\x92

\x91Bakr,\x92 Kenilworth said.

Atkins listened to the exchange in puzzlement. Bakr was one of the workers, a second cousin of Nebka. He was lazy and slept when he should be on watch, but neither of those traits marked him out to Atkins as unusual.

\x91May I ask what has occurred?\x92 Atkins asked when it became clear that nobody was going to enlighten him.

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\x91One of the workers got himself killed last night,\x92 Macready said.

\x91Murdered,\x92 Kenilworth added.

As Kenilworth said the word, everything round them went quiet, giving it emphasis and volume. Atkins could remember once chiding one of the maids about her sloppy service at table just as there was a lull in the dinner conversation so that his reprimand carried clear and loud across the dining room. The effect now was the same.

\x91Sir?\x92

\x91Strangled,\x92 the Doctor said. \x91Though it\x92s a moot point whether he asphyxiated first or died of a broken neck.\x92

\x91The Egyptians aren\x92t pleased.\x92 Macready wiped his glistening brow. \x91They\x92re having some sort of debate about it.\x92

Kenilworth was looking round, aware of the sudden silence. \x91Good job we\x92re leaving today. Wake the others, would you Atkins. Tell them to pack up so we can leave as soon as possible.\x92

\x91Of course, sir.\x92 He turned to go, and almost collided with Tegan as she ran up to them. Behind her Atkins could see Nebka standing alone by the supply tent.

\x91Hey,\x92 said Tegan, \x91what\x92s going on? I was nearly knocked down just now by a herd of Egyptians running into the desert.\x92

They all looked towards the supply tent, where Nebka was shaking his head, waving his hands up and down, and starting towards them. Atkins knew now why it had become so quiet, knew what enthusiastic debate had been so vocal to begin with.

The Egyptians had gone.

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Despite the dryness of the air, Simons\x92 body was starting to smell. Rassul assumed that the heat did not help, and tried to keep upwind of him. The huge, bandaged service robots lumbered onwards without discomfort, and when they paused it was for Rassul and the two Egyptians to rest.

Simons periodically stopped and stared at the sky, as if taking bearings. His cracked lips moved slightly as he spoke beneath what had been his breath.

On the third day following Kenilworth\x92s expedition, Simons stumbled and almost fell. He gathered himself together immediately and continued. After the next time he paused to consult the heavens, he turned to Rassul.

\x91The power relay is not functioning at full capacity,\x92 he said. \x91Probably the sand that now buries so much of it is impeding its efficiency.\x92

\x91Is that why you are weakened?\x92 Rassul asked. He had noticed Simons dragging his left foot slightly over the last few miles. Looking back, the marks Simons had left in the soft sand were skewed lines rather than imprints.

Simons nodded in reply. \x91As the relics are taken from the tomb, so the power is dissipated.\x92

\x91What must we do?\x92

\x91The time is not yet,\x92 Simons said, his bloodshot eyes drifting upwards again. \x91When the time comes, as it must and will, you will collect the relics together with the mummy. But until then, to preserve the power, we must return at least some of them to the tomb to act as a focus for the psionic particle accelerator.\x92

\x91When do we need to do this?\x92

\x91Tonight.\x92 Simons turned, and Rassul followed his gaze. In the middle distance, the four mummies continued their ponderous march forwards. \x91I shall take the servicers and recover the relics.\x92

\x91And the woman,\x92 asked Rassul, \x91the mummy?\x92

\x91Her destiny is already charted.\x92

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They were one day out from Cairo and Margaret Evans could not sleep. She lay awake, knowing that she needed to sleep. But somehow that made it even more difficult to relax. The full moon outside shone in through the canvas of her tent, so that she could see the outline of the interior lit with a pale glow of diffuse light.

She stared at the low folding table on which her most precious belongings were laid out and tried to distinguish them in the gloom. Her mother\x92s ring lay beside her day book. She could not see it, but she knew that sticking out slightly from the book, marking the current page, was the edge of a photograph. It was the only photograph she possessed and one of the few she had ever seen. It showed her father standing outside the Royal Society just before his acclaimed lecture on the discoveries at Saqqara in 1893. And beside him, on the steps, stood Nicholas Simons. Margaret Evans took the photograph everywhere. And those who knew, quietly admired her quiet dedication to, and love of, her father.

As she struggled to make out the strip of card, imagining its faded sepia tones and remembering the occasions she had cried herself to sleep clutching it, Margaret Evans felt the edges of sleep beginning to come over her. She relaxed slightly, trying not to be aware that she was drifting off, afraid that if she admitted to herself that she was falling asleep she would be instantly awake again. The pillow was soft under her head and her night-gown and the blankets held the warmth to her. She felt herself slipping away, sinking into the thin mattress. Her view of the dim interior of the tent softened and darkened, the effect of falling asleep emphasized by the dark shadow cast against the far wall of the tent.

Someone was walking past the tent, their shadow cast by the moon against the canvas. It was stretched and distorted by the irregular shape of the material as it lurched its way past.

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Margaret watched the figure\x92s progress, barely aware that she was wide awake again. She pushed back the covers and pushed herself off the bed. She had recognized the figure\x92s shape.

She reached the front of the tent just as the figure passed and continued its slow progress through the small camp. She called out, called him by name, and the figure stopped, turned, and walked slowly back towards her.

\x91It is you, I was sure it was. Oh I\x92m so relieved. What happened? Are you all right?\x92 The figure stopped in front of her. His face was illuminated by the light from the moon, and Margaret could see the sunken eyes and the pallor of the skin. She was vaguely aware of the smell, too, but did not associate the stench of rotting flesh with the man standing in front of her.

Simons said nothing. His expression did not alter.

Margaret sniffed, then shook her head to dispel the odour. Part of her mind was wondering how they could have been so wrong in their diagnosis of Simons\x92 condition and wondered where he had been; most of it did not care. She shook her head, wiped her eye, and laughed in relief. \x91I\x92ve missed you so much. So very much. We thought you were dead.\x92

She reached out for him, but Simons took a step backwards.

\x91I\x92m sorry. You\x92re nervous, I know. But you seemed so confident as you walked past just now, so assured. I thought you were looking for me. I thought that you knew - that you understood -\x92 She broke off and looked closer at Simons\x92 gaunt face. The smell was stronger now and she was finding it difficult to breath without coughing.

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Simons blinked, once. The skin round his eyes seemed to tighten and his brow creased as if in concentration. Had the light been better, Margaret might have seen the skin of his forehead cracking and breaking as it furrowed. Had her concentration not been entirely focused on Simons\x92 eyes, she might have smelled the colourless, viscous fluid which trickled down his cheek.

\x91Margaret,\x92 he said. His voice was quiet and husky, and it sounded as if the word had been forced out of him. \x91You are Margaret.\x92

\x91Of course,\x92 she said. She stretched out her arms to him. \x91Don\x92t be nervous, don\x92t avoid me. Not now.\x92

Simons moved forward, his hands reaching out. Margaret stepped back as he took her shoulders. She retreated into her tent, feeling the cold of his grasp through the material of her night-gown. She felt the camp bed against the backs of her knees and sat down on it.

Simons lifted his hands slowly to her neck, and she closed her eyes, lifting her head towards his. She tried not to flinch when the stench grew stronger as he leaned forward, pushing her back on to the bed. Any moment she expected to feel his lips on hers, though she knew they would be pale and cold as death.

And when she opened her mouth, it was not to kiss, but to gasp desperately for breath.

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The scream tore through the camp like a knife through tent canvas. Tegan was wide awake and out of bed by the time it finished. She pulled on her cloak and ran out of her tent.

The Doctor collided with her as she left the tent. He stared at her for a moment, and for a split second Tegan could see the relief in his eyes. Then he turned and started running in the opposite direction.

\x91Margaret?\x92 Tegan asked.

\x91Margaret,\x92 he agreed.

Kenilworth and Atkins were leaving their tents as the Doctor and Tegan ran past.

\x91What the devil\x92s going on?\x92 Kenilworth called as he struggled into his jacket.

The Doctor did not answer, but kept running. Tegan followed as fast as she could.

Margaret\x92s tent was silent. The flap was pulled back, and the Doctor paused outside for a second, like a doubting disciple. The he dived inside. Tegan arrived a few second after he had gone in, and made to follow. But the Doctor was backing out of the tent. He turned sharply as he bumped into Tegan, and opened his mouth. Then he shut it again, and shook his head.

Behind the Doctor, Tegan could see the figure sprawled across the bed, white night-gown stained at the shoulders as if charred. Margaret\x92s head lolled back over the far side of the bed, and Tegan was thankful that the eyes were hidden. She knew they would be open and blank, the pupils dilated in the gloom.

Before either of them could comment, Atkins and Kenilworth arrived, out of breath and hurriedly dressed. Atkins for once was less than immaculate. But before any of them could speak, there was a shout from across the camp, and the sound of a shotgun.

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The main focus of attention was the supply tent. Evans and Macready were backing slowly away from it. Macready had a shotgun raised and aimed to cover their retreat. Approaching them out of the darkness were three enormous shapes. They lumbered forwards, rolling from one leg to the other as if pulling their huge bulk forward by their own momentum.

Tegan, the Doctor, Atkins and Kenilworth arrived just as Macready discharged the second barrel of his gun. Tegan skidded to a halt and grabbed at the Doctor for support - both to prevent her falling as the sand gave under her feet, and for reassurance. Atkins stood open-mouthed, and Kenilworth swore.

The three figures were clearly visible in the moonlight. The shadows moved and stretched across their frames as they continued their slow but inexorable progress towards the group. The size of the bandaged bodies and the way the arms hung out from the massive shoulders made their legs seems slightly out of proportion as the huge mummies stepped through the desert night.

Macready\x92s shot caught the leading mummy in the right shoulder. It slowed a little, the right side of its body pushed back by the impact, shreds of bandage flying from the tiny entry points of the lead pellets. But then it eased itself back into its rolling gait and continued without apparent discomfort towards them.

Macready broke open the gun and fumbled in his pocket for fresh cartridges.

\x91I wouldn\x92t bother if I were you,\x92 the Doctor said. \x91They\x92re Osiran service robots, a few bullets and a bit of buckshot won\x92t worry them.\x92

\x91And what would you suggest?\x92 Kenilworth asked.

\x91I\x92d suggest we run.\x92

\x91Admirable advice,\x92 Evans said, turning on his heel.

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The mummies continued their slow progress. One of them smashed its way through the edge of a tent standing in its path. Another kicked through a small mound of sand in front of it, the mound exploded into tiny particles and drifted away on the breeze. Behind them, the sound of splintering wood carried through the desert air. Silhouetted against the canvas of the supply tent, working by the light of the oil lamp which cast its shadows onto the tent wall, a huge shape ripped the top from one of the packing cases. Two smaller, thinner figures stood close by, watching.

The Doctor and his friends turned to follow Evans\x92 example. Just as the entrance to the tent nearest the leading mummy flapped open, and Nebka pushed his sleepy way into its path.

\x91Look out, man,\x92 shouted Macready.

\x91Run,\x92 Kenilworth and the Doctor both called together.

But Nebka was frozen to the spot, staring in horror and amazement at the mummy as it bore down on him. At last he shook himself free of the fear, and started to turn. But too late.

The mummy swiped, almost casually, at the Egyptian. Its arm caught him across the throat, sending him flying back at the tent he had just left. Nebka hit the doorway, his body colliding with the tent\x92s main support and bringing it crashing down. A hand and forearm emerged from the mass of collapsed canvas. The hand clutched at the sand, grabbing and clenching, trying to gain a purchase on the shifting ground. Then it spasmed, stiffened, and the grains of sand fell from between the outstretched fingers and the hand flopped back on to the desert floor.

Kenilworth was already running forwards. Atkins tried to grab him, but missed. He started to follow, but the Doctor held him back and shook his head.

\x91Get the dynamite,\x92 he said. \x91I\x92ll get Kenilworth.\x92

Atkins looked at the Doctor for a second, then he nodded and ran.

\x91Help him, Tegan.\x92

Tegan followed, Macready at her heel. Evans was already almost out of sight.

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Kenilworth drew up short of the mummies. He could see that it was too late to help Nebka, but he was committed. Having challenged the mummies by running back at them, he was damned if he would turn and run away again.

A piece of broken wood from Nebka\x92s tent post had landed almost at Kenilworth\x92s feet. He picked it up, a pole about two inches in diameter and three feet long with a jagged and sharp end. He took up position like an enthusiastic cricketer out for a slog and waited for the first mummy to reach him.

Before it was within reach, though, he felt himself lifted from behind and dragged away. \x91What the -\x92 he spluttered, as the Doctor deposited him in the sand.

\x91Not a very sensible approach, your lordship,\x92 the Doctor said. \x91You had even less chance of inflicting any serious damage than Macready\x92s shotgun.\x92

\x91Maybe,\x92 Kenilworth said grudgingly. \x91But I\x92d have had a damn good try.\x92

\x91I admire your spirit. But I think we should keep out of their way.\x92

\x91We can\x92t let them just ransack the place,\x92 Kenilworth protested as he dragged himself to his feet, looked carefully at the length of wood he was holding and then dropped in to the ground.

The Doctor was backing away again, the mummies still lurching towards them. \x91They\x92re not. They\x92re after something specific. Something in with the relics.\x92

\x91We\x92ve still got to stop them,\x92 Kenilworth spluttered.

\x91Oh, I agree. That\x92s why I\x92ve sent Atkins for the dynamite.\x92 The Doctor\x92s teeth gleamed in the moonlight as he smiled. Over his shoulder, Kenilworth saw the mummies slow to a halt. For a moment, their bodies swung to and fro as if they were surveying the land in front of them. Then they stood motionless. From the distance came the sound of another crate being ripped open.

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Between them, Tegan and Atkins managed to carry the box of dynamite towards the supply tent. Tegan expected any moment to meet the Doctor and Kenilworth running back the other way. But they were almost where they had left them. The mummies stood a short way off, making no effort to move.

\x91They\x92re stopping us from getting to the supplies and preventing whatever\x92s happening there,\x92 Kenilworth told them. \x91The Doctor tried circling round, but they seemed to sense that, and one of them moved to cut him off.\x92

\x91So what did you do, Doctor?\x92 Atkins asked.

\x91I decided discretion was the better part of valour,\x92 the Doctor said. \x91Now where\x92s that dynamite?\x92

Atkins pulled the lid off the heavy wooden box to reveal several sticks of dynamite, fuses dangling like rats\x92 tails from the ends. He produced a box of lucifers from his jacket pocket.

\x91Excellent,\x92 the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together. \x91Now which of you can manage a decent full toss, do you reckon?\x92

The first stick landed short of its target. The dynamite exploded noisily, throwing sand and pieces of Nebka\x92s tent flying into the air. The mummy standing five yards from the blast did not so much as flinch.

But in the supply tent, Simons heard the report. He sent a mental signal to the servicer with him to continue searching through the packing crates. So far they had found the statue of Anubis, but none of the other relics had yet been recovered.

Simons picked up the small stone statue, its surface as cold as his hand, and went to investigate the noise. The image he was getting from the servicers outside was less than helpful, degraded and interrupted by the weakness of the power.

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He emerged from the tent in time to see a figure step forward into the moonlight and throw something towards the servicers. Simons sent the nearest mummy forward to counter attack.

It walked right into the explosion.

The dynamite went off just as the mummy stepped over it. The blast ripped its left arm from the body and shredded the bandages which protected the robot\x92s frame. The cloth still clinging to the robot\x92s legs ignited, and after a second the whole body was ablaze.

The mummy kept going, following its orders, a lumbering torch of guttering fire. The metal frame charred in the heat, but it held together as the creature stumbled onwards.

But without the protection of its wrappings, the next explosion ripped the servicer apart. It punctured the tiny pyramid relay in the small of its back, and sent shards of heated metal into the air like shrapnel from a grenade.

The humans dived for cover. The other servicers stood immobile and silent. Simons weighed up the options, hefting the Anubis statue in his dead palm. One relic would suffice. He recalled the servicers, and made his way back to where Rassul and the Egyptians were waiting beyond the next sand dune.

Evans sat at the table in his daughter\x92s tent, leafing slowly through her day book. He was not reading it, just turning the pages. In his hand he held the photograph that had marked her place.

Atkins stood into the tent behind him, watching. \x91I thought I\x92d find you here, sir,\x92 he said after a while. He tried to ignore the body sprawled across the bed. \x91She loved me,\x92 Evans said without looking up. \x91So dedicated. So devoted.\x92

\x91Indeed.\x92 Atkins clasped his hands tighter behind his back. \x91His lordship wonders if you would join us at the supply tent to go over the inventory again. He would welcome your expert opinion.\x92

\x91Look.\x92 Evans held out the photograph from the book. \x91She even kept my picture with her.\x92

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Simons\x92 young enthusiasm smiled back at Atkins from the cracked card.

\x91Indeed sir. I -\x92 He broke off. He knew what he wanted to say, but not how to phrase it. \x91She will be a great loss to us all, sir.\x92 It felt inadequate.

But Evans nodded as he stood up. \x91A great loss. Yes. Yes.\x92

Atkins held back the canvas flap for Evans as he pushed past. Then Atkins looked at the figure across the bed. He could feel an unaccustomed pressure behind his eyes, was aware of a tension in his stomach. He blinked quickly, and followed Evans out of the tent.

Phaester Osiris

Isis left the navigation to the pilot. He sat within the projection dome, his mind entirely focused on keeping the craft on course, following the psi-trail left by the capsule.

With her mind, Isis reached out into the darkness, probing and searching for the thoughts of Osiris. At the very extreme edge of her consciousness she could sense a slight tremor. There was a chance, just a faint hope, that Osiris was not yet dead. But if they did not get close enough for him to break the mind lock and project out of the capsule soon, he would be lost.

Even as she struggled to lock on to the mind of her husband-brother, Isis felt it slip through her thoughts. Osiris was gone. And with nowhere to project to, he must be dead. No way to project his physical body into another place; no receptacle for his brilliant mind - he would imbue no psi-child now.

She brought her mind back to reality, to the interior of the pyramid. The pilot was standing in front of her. He had left the projection dome. And yet the craft was still travelling straight and true along the psi-trail. It took a phenomenal amount of energy to cope even with a slight mental lapse. Actually to leave the dome was impossible, no mind could summon the reserves of power necessary for that.

But as she stared into the glowing eyes of the pilot, Isis was aware of a deeper intelligence than she had perceived when they boarded the craft.

'Greetings, mother,' the pilot said. His voice was melodic, almost musical. She recognized it at once, and almost wept for joy. The words of the Osiran who had been the pilot resonated within the craft, seeming almost to be born out of the air itself: 'I am Horus, son of Osiris.'

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Chapter Eight

The Golden Bough docked early in the morning of Sunday November the ninth, 1896. Within minutes, the London dockers had secured her to the quay and gangplanks were lowered. Soon after that, the ship was a scurry of activity as packing cases and crates were hoisted ashore.

Atkins supervised the unloading, just as he had ensured that everything was properly stowed before setting out from Egypt seven weeks earlier. He stood on the dockside, notebook in hand, checking off each item as it was brought ashore. Then each was packed into one of the waiting carriages, depending on its destination.

\x91You seem to be having fun,\x92 the Doctor said as he joined Atkins. His breath was smoky in the cold morning air. \x91The change in weather is always a problem when travelling, I find.\x92

\x91Indeed, Doctor.\x92 Atkins checked the stencilled letters on the side of a crate as it was carried past by two stevedores. He pointed the dockers to the nearest of the carriages.

\x91Mmmmm,\x92 the Doctor continued as he watched the crate\x92s bobbing progress towards the nearest carriage. \x91And talking of problems...\x92

Part of the time on the journey back had been spent allocating the various relics to museums and members of the expedition. The British Museum took the lion\x92s share, of course. Kenilworth kept several items, like the ring found on the shelf by the sarcophagus, for his private collection. He also kept, at the Doctor\x92s insistence and to the evident disappointment of Evans, the mummy itself. They compromised by sending the lid of the casket to the museum.

Evans himself elected to keep only a few of the smaller pieces he was offered, including the scarab bracelet found in the burial chamber. The cobra statuette found with it went to Macready, together with several papyrus scrolls.

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Atkins had repacked everything, with help from the others, principally Miss Tegan. He had found he grew to enjoy the time spent going through the inventory with her. Despite her attempts at small talk and her distracting manner, Tegan was pleasant company and performed her allotted tasks with a speed and efficiency which belied her manner. Atkins found himself looking forward to the sessions in a similar way to his anticipation of the evening planning meeting with Miss Warne back at Kenilworth House.

And with this observation came the realization that he was missing the meetings with Miss Warne. Indeed, he was missing her company generally.

So it was with a feeling of deep disappointment which he could not possibly voice or allow others to discern, that Atkins received the Doctor\x92s words.

\x91I\x92m afraid I\x92ll have to ask you to stay in the TARDIS for a day or two.\x92 He slapped Atkins on the shoulder. \x91You see, there are two of you here at the moment. Once your other self has left with us for ancient Egypt, then you can return to Kenilworth House and carry on as usual. But until then...\x92

The Doctor grinned as Atkins concentrated on his notes.

\x91It\x92s all a bit complicated. I\x92m not sure that I actually understand it too well myself, now I come to think about it.\x92

Atkins said nothing for a while. The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the notebook, and frowned as he tried to decipher the handwriting.

\x91Is the TARDIS ashore yet, by the way?\x92

Atkins indicated a nearby warehouse with the end of his pencil. \x91The harbour master says it can stay there till Wednesday free of charge.\x92

The Doctor nodded. \x91More than generous,\x92 he said. \x91And more than long enough.\x92 He patted Atkins on the shoulder again. \x91I hope you don\x92t mind, but it is rather important.\x92

Atkins did not look up. \x91You know best, Doctor,\x92 he said quietly.

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Having installed Atkins in the TARDIS and provided him with an adequate pile of reading material (it turned out he was a devotee of Dickens), the Doctor and Tegan took their leave of the expedition members. Macready and Kenilworth were off to Kenilworth House, and the Doctor agreed that he and Tegan would meet them there that afternoon. Evans was keen to return to the British Museum and start right away on unpacking the relics returned from Egypt. He hoped to have some of them at least on display in the Egyptian Room by the evening. The only disappointment in his enthusiasm seemed to be that this time neither his daughter nor Simons would help him update the catalogues.

\x91So what do we do now?\x92 Tegan asked the Doctor.

The Doctor consulted his watch, turned a full circle on his heel, and grinned. \x91How about some shopping?\x92 he suggested. \x91It\x92s nearly ten o\x92clock and Harrods has been open for forty-seven years. Should have stocked up on something other than groceries by now.\x92

\x91And Nyssa?\x92

The Doctor breathed out heavily, his breath hanging in the air amongst the other pollutants. \x91Nyssa will be perfectly safe until tomorrow when we unwrap her. We managed to keep the casket level during the journey which was the main thing. Now I think we should let Kenilworth get back to his house and his wife and have some peace and quiet for a few hours. We\x92ll see him this afternoon.\x92

The Doctor stepped out into the road and waved at an approaching cab. \x91I think it might snow later,\x92 he said as the cabby guided his horse to the kerb.

\x91You know it will,\x92 Tegan said as she climbed in ahead of the Doctor.

They spent the morning at Harrods and looked in some of the other shops on the Brompton Road. Then they had a light lunch at Bond\x92s Tea Shop before taking rooms at the Savoy. The Doctor signed the hotel register at three twenty-seven.

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Kenilworth ordered afternoon tea for the drawing room.

\x91I thought we could discuss where the sarcophagus should be set up with the Doctor and Miss Tegan,\x92 he told Atkins.

\x91Indeed, sir. And will the Doctor and Miss Tegan be taking tea also?\x92

Kenilworth laughed. \x91When did you ever know the Doctor to refuse a cup of tea?\x92

\x91The Doctor, sir?\x92 Atkins cocked his head slightly to one side. \x91I\x92m not sure that I am aquainted with the gentleman.\x92

Kenilworth stared in amazement for a moment. \x91Not sure that -\x92 He looked from Atkins to his wife and back. \x91Good grief, man. You\x92ll be telling us you don\x92t remember miss Tegan either next.\x92 He smiled and gave a sharp nod to emphasize his point.

\x91Who, sir?\x92 Atkins asked innocently.

Kenilworth opened his mouth, then closed it again. Perhaps Atkins was joking. Yet he seemed entirely sincere. \x91Are you all right, Atkins?\x92 Kenilworth asked. \x91Come to think of it, you do look a bit pale.\x92

\x91I am in excellent health, thank you sir.\x92

Lady Kenilworth leaned forward in her chair. \x91That\x92s all right, Atkins. Just arrange the tea, would you.\x92

\x91Indeed, ma\x92am,\x92 Atkins said with evident relief, taking his leave.

Kenilworth shook his head as Atkins left the room. \x91I don\x92t know,\x92 he said.

\x91Leave him alone, dear,\x92 Lady Kenilworth said quietly. \x91He\x92s been a perfect treasure while you\x92ve been away. As always.\x92

Page 20
  

Kenilworth was not listening. \x91Maybe it\x92s the change in climate. He wasn\x92t like this in Egypt.\x92

Lady Kenilworth smiled. \x91But that was years ago,\x92 she said. \x91When you were both younger.\x92

\x91What? No, no. I mean this trip. The last few months.\x92

Lady Kenilworth frowned. \x91I don\x92t think I follow.\x92

\x91All I\x92m saying is that he was fine. His usual calm efficient self, and we had some dicey moments I don\x92t mind telling you.\x92

Lady Kenilworth stood up and crossed to where her husband was sitting. She rested her hand on his shoulder. \x91But he\x92s been here,\x92 she said, \x91with me. Atkins never went to Egypt.\x92

In the distance, the doorbell rang. Kenilworth barely heard it. \x91What are you talking about?\x92 he asked his wife. \x91I left him here with you, yes. But Atkins joined us in Cairo at the beginning of September. He must have left here four months ago.\x92

Lady Kenilworth did not reply immediately. She sat down again, and looked out of the window. The sound of several sets of footsteps drifted in from the hallway, getting steadily closer. \x91Well,\x92 she said at last, \x91all I can say is that I had not noticed he was gone. And neither, I suspect, have any of the other servants.\x92

Kenilworth snorted and shook his head.

\x91Perhaps you should ask Miss Warne,\x92 his wife suggested. \x91I\x92m sure she will be able to tell you the whereabouts of Mister Atkins for the last year or more, let alone the past few weeks.\x92

Page 21
  

Kenilworth was about to ask his wife what she meant, but at the moment the door opened and Atkins entered.

\x91The Doctor and Miss Tegan Jovanka,\x92 he announced. Then he stepped aside to allow the Doctor and Tegan to enter.

\x91Ah Doctor, Miss Tegan.\x92 Kenilworth was across the room and shaking hands enthusiastically before the Doctor and Tegan were properly through the door. He introduced them to his wife and waved them to chairs. Atkins watched the proceedings, then when he discerned that he was no longer needed left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

\x91Perhaps you can help settle a small disagreement, Doctor,\x92 Kenilworth said. Tea had been brought in and they were sitting with bone china cups and cucumber sandwiches. \x91Ah,\x92 the Doctor said awkwardly, replacing his cup on its saucer and looking carefully into it as if trying to decode the pattern of the tea leaves.

\x91It\x92s about Atkins.\x92

The Doctor looked up. He did not look happy. \x91Yes. I was rather afraid it might be.\x92 He exchanged a pained glance with Tegan. \x91Look, er, can I ask you a small favour?\x92

\x91Of course.\x92

\x91Please don\x92t worry yourselves with where Atkins has been, or hasn\x92t been. I\x92m sure he\x92ll remember everything soon enough, and if you need an explanation then, he can probably provide it.\x92 The Doctor gulped down the remains of his tea, draining the cup. Then he grimaced. \x91I must be getting used to tea bags,\x92 he said. \x91Abominations.\x92

\x91I thought perhaps,\x92 Kenilworth said as the tea things were cleared away, \x91we should have the unwrapping in here.\x92

\x91Sounds good to me,\x92 Tegan said.

Page 22
  

\x91Excellent, capital.\x92 The doorbell clanged in the distance, and Kenilworth consulted his pocket watch. \x91I\x92ve asked Professor Macready to join us this afternoon to help set up the sarcophagus. That\x92ll be him now.\x92

The Doctor stood up and walked across the room, hands in trouser pockets. \x91Were you intending to set up the casket about here?\x92 he asked as he reached the far corner. Kenilworth laughed. \x91I told you,\x92 he said to his wife. \x91Never ceases to amaze. He even knows what I\x92m thinking now.\x92

The Doctor joined in the laughter. \x91Hardly.\x92

\x91Good. Then you won\x92t know that I\x92ve got some invitations printed up already. Should be delivered this evening. I\x92ll drop one round to the Savoy for you so you can see it if you like.\x92

\x91Professor Macready,\x92 Atkins announced, ushering in the small professor. Macready peered across the room at them, polishing his spectacles furiously on a handkerchief. When he was done, he popped his glasses back on his nose and beamed at Kenilworth. \x91Good to see you again, old man.\x92 He looked round the room, the light shining off his glasses as he tried to find the sarcophagus.

\x91It\x92s in the dining room at the moment,\x92 Lady Kenilworth told him. \x91Which I must say is extremely inconvenient. Perhaps you gentlemen could ask Atkins to help you bring it in here instead?\x92

The sarcophagus was unwieldy rather than heavy. And with the added challenge of keeping it level, at the Doctor\x92s insistence, it took the four of them several minutes to manoeuvre the coffin the short distance from the dining room to the drawing room. The effort seemed not to bother the Doctor, though Macready by contrast slumped into an armchair and dabbed at his forehead.

\x91Goodness me,\x92 he said. \x91So much exercise.\x92 He stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket and leaped to his feet again. \x91Magnificent,\x92 he said. \x91Quite magnificent. Tell me, Doctor, have you yet formulated any opinions you are willing to share on the history or age of this piece?\x92

Page 23
  

Tegan laughed. \x91I\x92ll say,\x92 she started.

But the Doctor gestured for her to be quiet. \x91I think we should reserve our opinions for the unwrapping, Professor.\x92

\x91Indeed, indeed.\x92 Macready stroked his finger along the rim of the sarcophagus. \x91I still find it quite astounding. This must be three thousand years old at least.\x92 The Doctor nodded. \x91I\x92d put it a bit older than that,\x92 he said. \x91Another thousand years, perhaps.\x92

\x91Four thousand? Really?\x92 Macready nodded slowly as he considered. \x91We shall see,\x92 he muttered, \x91we shall see.\x92

The Doctor yawned and stretched. \x91Well,\x92 he said to Tegan, \x91I think it\x92s time we were making a move. A brisk walk followed by a bite to eat.\x92

\x91Don\x92t let us keep you, Doctor.\x92 Kenilworth shook their hands again. \x91Macready and I have lots to talk about, and we\x92ll see you for the unrolling tomorrow.\x92 He saw them to the door. \x91I\x92ll have Atkins drop round an invitation as soon as they arrive,\x92 he said as they entered the hallway.

\x91Ah,\x92 the Doctor said. \x91Perhaps another small favour?\x92

Kenilworth laughed. \x91What inscrutable request is it this time?\x92

\x91Could you perhaps ask Atkins to deliver the invitation to us outside the British Museum?\x92

\x91The British Museum,\x92 Kenilworth echoed, as much as anything to check he had heard correctly.

\x91Er, yes. Outside the North door. At exactly midnight.\x92

\x91Midnight.\x92

The Doctor smiled broadly. \x91You\x92ve got it.\x92 He took Kenilworth\x92s hand and shook it enthusiastically. \x91Thank you so much,\x92 he said. \x91You\x92ve been very understanding.\x92

\x91Not at all, Doctor. Not at all.\x92 Kenilworth opened the front door.

Tegan shook Kenilworth\x92s hand as she followed the Doctor out. \x91He\x92s right,\x92 she said. \x91For a change. You\x92ve been great. Thanks.\x92

Kenilworth watched the two figures make their way down the drive. It was already dark, and a light sprinkling of snow was settling on the ground. It was strange, Lord Kenilworth reflected as closed the front door. The Doctor and Tegan had both behaved as if they were bidding him farewell for the last time. Yet they would see each other again tomorrow afternoon.

Page 24
  

They arrived back at the Savoy at just after nine. The Doctor suggested he call for Tegan at ten for a late dinner. \x91I\x92ve got a few things I want to think through,\x92 he told her. \x91An hour should be ample.\x92

Tegan was happy to have a few minutes to herself. Several parcels had been delivered from Harrods, the fruits of her shopping expedition that morning. Not noted for her patience, Tegan was keen to unpack them right away.

She waved to the Doctor as he unlocked the door to his room. But he seemed not to notice. She could see that he was already deep in thought. He pulled a battered notebook from his jacket pocket, and went into his room.

By half-past ten Tegan was fed up with waiting. She paused for the briefest of moments outside the door to the Doctor\x92s room, then knocked. There was no answer, so she opened it and went in.

The Doctor was lying on the bed, hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His notebook was still open, but laid face down on his chest.

\x91Ah, Tegan,\x92 he said without moving, \x91do come in.\x92

\x91You\x92re late,\x92 she said. \x91And I\x92m hungry.\x92

\x91Dinner,\x92 the Doctor heaved himself off the bed. \x91Oh yes.\x92 The notebook fell to the floor, and he picked it up.

\x91Any new clues?\x92 Tegan asked as she followed the Doctor from the room.

\x91Mmmm,\x92 he said. \x91I\x92ll tell you after we\x92ve eaten.\x92

\x91Don\x92t want to spoil my appetite?\x92 she joked.

The Doctor glared at her, then set off down the corridor without answering.

Page 25
  

The dining room was almost empty. An old man sat on his own at a table near the door. A middle-aged couple occupied a booth in the far corner.

The old man eyed the Doctor and Tegan suspiciously as they waited to be seated. The Doctor smiled at him and Tegan frowned.

\x91Colonel Finklestone,\x92 the man barked suddenly, wiping his mouth on his napkin. \x91Don\x92t have the salmon.\x92 The waiter scowled at the man as he arrived to attend to the Doctor and Tegan.

\x91Er, thank you,\x92 the Doctor replied. \x91The Doctor, and Miss Tegan Jovanka.\x92

Colonel Finklestone snorted as if they had in some way insulted him, and returned his attention to his wine.

\x91Doctor, Miss Jovanka,\x92 the waiter smiled widely and nodded to them, picking up on their names, \x91dinner for two?\x92

\x91Please,\x92 the Doctor replied. \x91A table near the window perhaps?\x92

\x91Of course, sir.\x92 The waiter led them across the near-deserted room. \x91Will this do?\x92 he asked as they reached the table where they had eaten breakfast what seemed like several months previously.

\x91Admirably, thank you.\x92 The Doctor seated himself and accepted a menu and wine list. The waiter pulled back Tegan\x92s chair for her as she sat down.

\x91Oh no you don\x92t,\x92 Tegan said before he could push the chair in again, dragging it in closer to the table.

The waiter left them to look at the menu. Tegan flicked through, remembering the brief conversation they had exchanged before.

\x91I believe I\x92ll have the oysters,\x92 the Doctor said, laying his menu to one side and picking up the wine list. It was leather-bound, with a gold cord down the spine ending in a tassel.

\x91You know you will,\x92 Tegan said.

Page 26
  

\x91Yes, but you have to go through the motions.\x92

\x91Why?\x92 Tegan dropped her menu heavily on the table by her plate. It clattered against the lead crystal and disturbed the double damask. \x91You keep going on about how we can\x92t change things, but you won\x92t prove it.\x92

\x91I don\x92t need to. I know.\x92 Tegan looked out of the window. The moon was shining through the murky night, its light diffused across the surface of the Thames outside. Snow was falling lazily through the smog, spiralling its way through the young trees which edged the Embankment.

\x91Doctor,\x92 Tegan said quietly, \x91in about an hour, we will arrive at the British Museum. What\x92s to stop us - this us - going there and warning us - that us - to leave before anything happens to Nyssa?\x92

The Doctor said nothing for a while. He stared out of the window, or perhaps he was watching Tegan\x92s reflection in the glass as she continued to watch the snow.

\x91You see those snowflakes,\x92 he said at last.

Tegan nodded.

\x91As they twist and tumble their way down, they collide with each other, get swept away in the breeze, melt in a warm updraft. Now, imagine you plotted the course of one of those snowflakes, and you found that it collided with another snowflake. And you found it collided with it not just once, but twice.\x92

\x91So?\x92

Page 27
  

\x91And then you changed the course of one of the snowflakes so that the first collision never happened.\x92

\x91Yes. So what?\x92

\x91So, would the second collision happen?\x92

Tegan considered. \x91Maybe. You can\x92t tell.\x92

The Doctor nodded. \x91That\x92s right. As soon as you change any of the circumstances, all bets are off. The second collision may occur, or it may not. There may be a completely different collision, or the snowflake may melt on a gas lamp before it reached its rendezvous.\x92

\x91What\x92s that got to do with Nyssa?\x92

The Doctor beckoned to the waiter who was standing on the far side of the room. \x91Everything,\x92 he said. \x91If we change things, we have no idea what will happen as a result, what collisions we set up, what courses we alter. We might all end up mummified, and that would help nobody. Maybe we should try, but that\x92s not the way Time works. You only get one chance.\x92 He leaned forward and looked deep into Tegan\x92s eyes. \x91We couldn\x92t change a thing. We could go to the Museum, but we\x92d be delayed on the way, or miss ourselves somehow. Which is probably as well given what would happen to the temporal differential if we actually did meet.\x92

\x91How do you know you can\x92t change it? You won\x92t try.\x92 Tegan\x92s frustration was cut short by the arrival of the waiter.

\x91Oysters,\x92 the Doctor said immediately. \x91And a bottle of the Morgon.\x92

Tegan had not decided, though she knew what she would not be having. She grabbed back her menu as the waiter lifted it from the table, opened it, and went for the first thing she saw. \x91Ham.\x92

Page 28
  

The waiter was still startled. He blinked, then realized that Tegan had ordered. \x91Very good,\x92 he said, bowed, and left.

\x91Not having the cutlets?\x92 the Doctor asked as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

\x91Didn\x92t fancy them.\x92

\x91And I thought you were making a point.\x92 The Doctor turned his attention back to the snow outside. \x91It\x92s a shame you don\x92t fancy the cutlets, though,\x92 he said quietly, \x91since you\x92ll have to eat them.\x92

Tegan forced herself to keep relatively calm. \x91How do you know?\x92 she asked, on hand clenching on the edge of the tablecloth.

\x91Look, Tegan,\x92 the Doctor cleared aside his cutlery and rested his hands on the table as he leaned forward. \x91You want to go and warn ourselves at the British Museum to leave at once.\x92

\x91Yes.\x92

\x91And what do you think will happen if we do that?\x92

\x91We\x92ll leave,\x92 Tegan said. \x91We\x92ll go back into the TARDIS and Nyssa will be all right.\x92

The Doctor nodded. \x91And if we had done that, which we didn\x92t, then who will warn us?\x92

\x91What?\x92

Page 29
  

\x91Look,\x92 the Doctor said, pressing his hands together and raising them so that his index fingers almost touched his lips. \x91If we had left straight after we arrived, either through some warning or on a whim, we would not be here now. So we could not be having this discussion, coming to a conclusion, or rushing to warn ourselves. The fact that we are here now means that we didn\x92t - will not - leave.\x92

Tegan frowned. \x91So we can\x92t change anything?\x92

\x91Well, I have seen it done. But never without immense initial cost, and always so that history returns to its original track as soon as it gets the chance.\x92

The Doctor leaned back in his seat as the waiter approached again. \x91You needn\x92t take my word for it though.\x92

The Doctor tasted the wine, swilling it noisily round his mouth and smacking his lips together appreciatively. He nodded his approval, and the waiter sloshed some wine into Tegan\x92s glass, then carefully poured for the Doctor.

\x91Charming,\x92 Tegan said as he left.

The Doctor smiled. \x91An example of what we were just discussing, surely.\x92

\x91How so?\x92

\x91Why were you rude to him when we arrived just now?\x92

\x91Because he was so snotty last time.\x92

The Doctor nodded. \x91But for him, last time hasn\x92t happened yet. Though when it does, at breakfast tomorrow, he\x92ll be snotty to you. And he\x92ll be snotty to you because you were rude to him the night before.\x92

Page 30
  

\x91Which for me won\x92t have happened yet.\x92

\x91Exactly.\x92 The Doctor sipped at his wine. \x91This is rather good, you know. It\x92s a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy.\x92

\x91I\x92ll be nice to him, then,\x92 Tegan said.

\x91Well, here\x92s your chance.\x92 The Doctor nodded to the waiter as he approached again, this time pushing a low trolley. \x91Good luck.\x92

Tegan smiled sweetly at the waiter as he removed the silver lid from the platter he presented to the Doctor. He did his best to ignore her. \x91Oysters, sir.\x92

Tegan continued to smile as he produced her dinner, trying to make meaningful eye contact as he set it before her.

\x91Cutlets, madam,\x92 he said.

Tegan\x92s smile froze. \x91What?\x92

\x91Cutlets. You asked for lamb.\x92

\x91My compliments to the chef,\x92 the Doctor slipped in quickly, \x91these oysters are magnificent.\x92

Then Tegan exploded.

\x91We need to pack,\x92 the Doctor said as they made their way up the stairs back to their rooms.

\x91Oh? Why?\x92

\x91Two reasons. First, the rooms will be needed later tonight.\x92

\x91By us, I remember.\x92

\x91And second, before dinner I managed to decipher some of the hieroglyphics I copied down from the tomb.\x92

They paused outside Tegan\x92s room. \x91And what does that mean?\x92 she asked.

\x91I think it means that reviving Nyssa, starting irreversibly the hundred-year cycle to bring her back to life, was one of my less inspired actions.\x92

Page 31
  

\x91I meant to ask you,\x92 Tegan said after a moment\x92s pause, \x91why a hundred years? Apart from the fact it\x92s a good round figure.\x92

\x91I\x92ve been asking myself that.\x92

\x91And?\x92

\x91And it just popped into my head. Which is at least part of the problem. And now the stars are set in their courses, and so...\x92

\x91And so?\x92

\x91And so we have to be there when she wakes. I\x92ll see you in five minutes.\x92

As she gathered together her belongings, Tegan was in an ambivalent mood. The Doctor\x92s comments had worried her, but they were off to a time which was rather closer to her own, and where she would be reunited with Nyssa.

She wondered what Atkins would make of the late twentieth century. She had understood enough to realize he would have to come with them until they could return him to the time after he had first left with them. Perhaps the Doctor was right after all about the way that Time crystallized like a snowflake around your actions and despite your intentions. Whether she tried to trick her way out of it, or to go with the flow, events seemed set in their pre-ordained courses.

Before she left, Tegan carefully laid out the pale green dress she had bought in Harrods that morning.

Page 32
  

Egypt - January 1897

The three mummies stood forming a perfect triangle in front of the position where the sarcophagus had rested. They had remained there, static, for the last few months guarding the statue of Anubis while their masters had been to London and back. In front of them, Simons bowed to the jackal statue with reverence and respect.

'Will just the one relic remain sufficient?' Rassul asked.

Simons nodded. 'The energy you will need for the next century is not great. And when the time comes, the power will build as you need it. Orion will come into configuration and the signal strength will increase accordingly.'

Simons pressed the central square of the Nephthys cartouche and the heavy door to the inner chamber swung open. Rassul moved aside to let the mummies file through into the room beyond. As the third of the service robots passed through, the door swung shut behind it.

'They will return to their charge points until you need them.'

'Until I need them?' asked Rassul. 'Surely, you -'

But Simons was shaking his head. 'This body is already decaying, and the journey to the damper climate of England has not helped. The powers granted to you are more durable. You have waited this long, and now you begin the final stage of your journey. Another century is as nothing to you.' Simons turned back to the engraved symbol of Nephthys' name. 'For me... '

Simons' last words were a cracked gasp. Rassul was not sure if he had actually said for me or free. But before he could decide, Simons' slowly crumpled to his knees, the bones in his legs cracking as they splintered and fractured. He pitched forwards, face smashing into the wall of the tomb. His head cracked open, dry powder cascading out and falling to the floor like sand in an hourglass.

As Rassul watched, Simons' body slowly crumbled away until only a fine dust remained. A sudden, impossible breeze cleaned it from the stone floor, and sent it scurrying into the corners of the tomb.

Rassul waited for a while. Simons was right, he had waited a long time. And soon it would be over. Just a few short decades, and he too would be free.

Page 33
  

The Valley of the Kings, Ancient Egypt (c5000 BC)

The rain was still falling heavily as the gods made their way into the pyramid. The rain cascaded down the smooth white slopes of the sides, and waterfalled over the entrance. A blast of lightning split the black sky, making the pyramid seem to glow. Rassul looked away as the glare hurt his eyes.

The gods made their ponderous way inside, their work complete. Horus and Anubis were last into the structure, Isis just ahead of them. Once across the threshold, Horus turned and looked back at the assembled priests. His face was just visible through the falling water as he nodded slowly in approval.

As Rassul watched, Horus raised his arms, made the sign of the Eye. Then he stepped back into the pyramid, out of sight in the darkness within. The next moment, without apparent change in the pyramid's form or shape, the water was no longer falling from the edge of the door frame, but continuing its cascade down the smooth unbroken side.

The lightning flashed again. And when Rassul blinked away the brightness and looked back, the pyramid was gone. The rain slowed, picking random holes in the dry square of sand.