while the black stars burn (20 page)

“Oh, Papa, that’s the funniest one yet!”

No sooner had the spell been cast than it was broken by a sound from outside the castle; the loud, rough, grinding, metallic grunting sound—
vworp-vworp-vworp!—
of some machine trying to come to life or die quickly.

From deep in the pit, the music of the violin stopped. The little girl snapped up her head, tossing the hair from her face, and gazed in the direction of the ugly mechanical sound with a blazing, unbound anger bordering on hatred.

Ace felt as if the little girl were focusing that hatred directly at her, and jolted out of her nap in a damp sweat.

“Ace,” called the Doctor’s voice from elsewhere in the TARDIS. “Best prepare yourself, dear girl. Upsy-lazy. We’ll be arriving shortly.”

Shaking off the remnants of the odd little dream, Ace threw back the covers and ran toward the shower, dropping her clothes along the way as if they were breadcrumbs carefully scattered in a forest to help her find her way home.

*

Ace had just finished drying her hair when she felt the TARDIS change direction and begin to descend. She slipped on a fluffy patchwork robe and stuck her head into the control room. The Doctor was bent over the controls, scowling in thought.

“Hey, Professor, I had the weirdest dream while I was—hey, what’s this? I thought we were going to Risa for a bit of a vacation. I could use some tropical surroundings after being cooped up in here—nothing personal.”

“Bit of a change in plans, I’m afraid—and no offense taken,” The Doctor replied. “I’ve gotten an encrypted transdimensional call for help. Audio only, no video.”

“From Gallifrey?” Ace asked.

The Doctor made a face. “Oh, heavens no, not that lot. This appears to be generated by the backup emergency call system I set up for U.N.I.T. But the time and place are wrong—it sounds like Elizabeth Shaw of all people, but it’s coming from Prague in May of 2050.”

“Who’s Elizabeth Shaw?” asked Ace.

The Doctor gave her a quick smile. “One of the brightest scientific minds of her generation, but I’m afraid I quite supplanted her in the eyes of the Brigadier when I joined U.N.I.T. Gave her a bit of a hard time, I expect.”

Ace smiled. “You?
Never
.”

The Doctor gave her a sharp look. “At any rate, she’d be...well, she’d be quite elderly in 2050. And this was the voice of a young woman.”

“So maybe she traveled in time, or found the Fountain of Youth,” Ace replied. “Or maybe someone’s stolen the emergency communicator.”

“All are indeed possibilities,” he replied. “But as I cannot resist a damsel in distress, we’re going down to investigate. Put on your walking boots, Ace...but leave the Nitro-9 behind, all right?”

“Aw, Professor!”

“The situation down there might be explosive enough without your well-intended chemical contribution. Should the need arise, I’ll let you return to supply our defensive needs.”

“All right.” She felt naked without her nitro.

“Look on the bright side, Ace. Prague is a lovely and fascinating city even in the ugliest of its eras, and always full of surprises. Consider, if you will, a few high points of its illustrious history. The city was saved from the ravages of WWII and the Third Reich because of its beauty; it is home to Rabi Loew’s mythic ‘Golem’, Rudolph II’s obsession with finding the elixir of youth, the scientific genius in the form of Kepler and Tycho Brahe, and the alchemical obsessions of Magister Kelly.” He slapped together his hands and began rubbing them furiously. “Oh, the wonders of the place.”

“Never been before, myself,” she replied. “That whole iron curtain thing rather put a damper on going there for holiday when I was growing up.”

“Quite so, quite so. Well, let us hope the geopolitical climate is much improved since those dark days.”

He slapped the well-worn Panama hat on his head. “Do I look presentable?”

Ace titled her head to the side and grinned. “Did anyone ever tell you, Professor, that in that get-up you insist on wearing, you look just like a dance-hall comic?”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, hooked his thumbs through his suspenders, and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Well, if I do say so myself, I
have
been known to elocute a ripping yarn or two in my day. I’m not without my share of mirth and joviality, despite what you may think, my dear Ace. I can be quite the funny fellow.”

She smiled. “A regular
Monty Python
player you are, I fancy.”

The Doctor stopped bouncing, looking as if his pride had been wounded slightly. “We haven’t the time for me to display the full depth and breadth of my redoubtable wit, Ace. Get dressed; I expect that we’ll have some investigating to do today. The usual mysteries and enigmas and conundrums which none but us can unravel.” He paused for a moment, then added: “Dear me, I do hope we’re not falling into a rut.”

Ace opted for a stretchy pair of black jeans and some well-worn Doc Martens she’d picked up in a late-90s boutique in Chicago. It took her just a few minutes to dress, brush out her damp hair and secure it in a ponytail.

She felt the TARDIS materialize and set down with a slight thump just as she emerged from her room.

The Doctor stood by the front door, twirling his umbrella. “Let’s see what there is to see, shall we?”

Ace slipped on her black jacket, slung her battered rucksack over her shoulder, and followed the Doctor out into what seemed to be the best-outfitted laboratory she’d ever seen.

“
Wicked
,” she whispered. The building was an old church, and sunlight through the myriad stained-glass windows shone down on a room full of gleaming white lab tables, computers, and delicate glass experimental setups. A half-dozen university-aged researchers in white lab coats were staring openmouthed at The Doctor, Ace, and the TARDIS.

“Wicked indeed,” said the Doctor, then muttered, darkly: “I sense that something’s very wrong here.”

“What, them?” Ace asked, nodding toward the lab workers. “They look all right to me.”

“No, not them, silly.” He waved the crooked, question-mark-shaped end of his umbrella at the others and called, “Hello there! Sorry to drop in like this! Please, don’t mind us. Carry on, carry on.”

An auburn-haired woman in a white lab coat stood up from behind a computer and smiled. “You
must
be The Doctor.”

He doffed his hat and took a bow. “Indeed I am, in the flesh, as it were. And you are?”

“I’m Dr. Elizabeth Holub. I’m the principal investigator for this lab. You knew my grandmother, Elizabeth Shaw. She once told me that should anything go seriously wrong, something beyond anything I’d seen before, I should contact you. I apologize if my doing so was presumptuous, but...I’ve simply run out of ideas.”

“What’s happening here?” The Doctor asked, gesturing at the activity in the massive lab.

“The main goal here is to develop a new type of cold fusion, much colder and cheaper than the type they worked out at UCLA a few years ago. Regular people can’t afford petrol or even firewood any more—you undoubtedly know of the bloodshed caused by the petrol riots that have been going on for some time now. The new hydrogen cells have been fiddly and are still quite expensive. People need better options for generating electricity for their households.”

“Indeed,” The Doctor replied. “A most admirable goal. How’s it been going?”

“Six months ago we achieved stable fusion at 100˚C—no hotter than boiling water. When the process goes beyond those parameters it simply fails with an exceedingly low chance of explosion. We sent the process out to select labs for further experiments and confirmation, and so far they’ve all reported that our technique works wonderfully for them.

“The problem,” Elizabeth continued, “is that over the past month it’s gradually stopped working for us, and it hasn’t worked at all the past two weeks. I thought perhaps the computer controlling the mix and reaction was malfunctioning, or there was a variable we hadn’t accounted for. But then some very peculiar things started happening in the city.”

“What sort of peculiar things?” the Doctor asked.

“Old, standard batteries have stopped working properly,” Elizabeth replied. “For instance, the lithium motherboard batteries in our computers either failed or started producing too much current; we had to pull them all to keep our computers from frying. The lab’s power is supplied by our own hydrogen fuel cell, of course, since the city plant is unreliable at best. But after the battery incident we added a new power supply monitor, and it had to filter out some truly strange power fluctuations from our cell. I did some checking, and it seems that every few days—right around dawn—there’s a tremendous power drain all over the city. And it’s getting worse. At least here we have backup power sources, but I find it quite worrisome, thinking of all those people out there with pacemakers and mechanical hearts whose batteries might randomly fail.”

The Doctor nodded. “Quite so, quite so. And I’m sure you’ve considered the biological implications of this electrical instability trend progressing?”

Elizabeth looked pained. “Honestly, that’s a hard thing to even think about.”

“What biological implications?” Ace asked.

“Our bodies run on electricity,” the Doctor replied. “The nerve signals that let us move, let us breathe, let us think, let our hearts keep beating—it’s all electrical.”

“Oh. Right,” said Ace. “That’s a problem then, innit?”

“It’s gone way beyond electricity,” said Elizabeth. “Yesterday...well, my assistant can explain it best, I think.” She turned toward a nearby computer station. “Viktor, please come here and tell these people what happened to you.”

A young dark-haired man of about 23 stood up and nervously approached the trio.

“Please take apologies,” Viktor said. “My English, not so good. Always thought mathematics enough to talk science.”

The young man cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “I swear to you, I do not drink or stay awake too long yesterday...but walking home near Technical University, I see dragon flying through sky with queen riding it like horse.”

“A dragon—as in fire-breathing? With a queen riding on its back?” Ace asked.

Viktor nodded. “Very beautiful, both of them. Dragon very fierce-looking, but not breathing fire that I could see. Queen wearing regal-looking gown and jeweled crown. Should not be on Zikova Street, for sure.”

“Thank you, Viktor,” Elizabeth said.

After Viktor had gone back to his station, Elizabeth pulled the Doctor and Ace aside. “Viktor isn’t the only one here who’s reported seeing such...
odd
things. In fact, I daresay that every person you see here has reported a similar sighting—not of the dragon and the queen, but other strange creatures.”

“Such as?” asked the Doctor.

“Dancing devils, Griffins, a bear, eagle, and fish strolling through the streets.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “How on
earth
does a fish stroll?”

“On its fins,” replied Elizabeth. “But there are two characteristics that all the sightings have in common, Doctor. First, it’s only the night-time sightings that coincide with the power outages—there’s almost no trouble with batteries and generators or the power plant during the daytime hours.”

“No exceptions there?”

“Yes—on those days when there is rain or heavy cloud cover, the power outages are rampant. But here’s the other thing, Doctor: all of my assistants have reported that these creatures, these...
apparitions
, whatever you want to call them, all of them look as if they were, well...”

“Out with it, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor. “Your grandmother was never one to mince words; I assume that you have inherited her gift for straightforwardness, as well.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath, released it, and said: “Everyone says that the beings—although solidly three-dimensional—look as if they were drawn by an artist in pen and ink, or perhaps charcoal.”

The Doctor straightened. “
Really
? How absolutely fascinating. Tell me, have any of your assistants reported any physical evidence that may support their sightings?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Viktor says that the dragon’s wings smashed in a large section of the Hostel
Dejvice’s
entrance and first few floors. Thank goodness the hostel is empty, being temporarily closed for business due to the energy shortage.”

“Indeed,” muttered the Doctor, tapping the handle of his umbrella. “Are there any more particulars that we need to know? Leave out no detail, regardless of how tiny, insignificant, or rather silly it may seem.”

Elizabeth grinned. “I
knew
Grandmother was right about you!” She turned to face the lab and clapped her hands as she announced: “Everyone—your attention, please. I’m calling an emergency meeting in the lower lounge,
right now
. Viktor, since you’ve already spoken with the Doctor, you may remain here to monitor the machines. Everyone else, please go downstairs now.”

The Doctor leaned over toward Ace and whispered, “I do so admire a woman who knows how to take charge.”

“Oh, right!” protested Ace. “You’re all full of respect for the take-charge type of woman, unless of course it’s
me
ordering you about.”

“This isn’t the time to argue pedantics, Ace, come. Time and tide melt the snowman and all that.”

“It’s ‘Time and tide wait for’—oh, never mind!”

They followed Elizabeth and the others downstairs to the lounge.

*

“Any other time, any other place,” said Ace to the Doctor as she stared up at the slightly overcast sky above the church, “and I’d swear we’d just spent the better part of an hour in the loony bin.”

“The entirety of the multiverse is a loony bin, dear Ace,” replied the Doctor. “One only need know how to speak the language.”

Ace laughed. “Well, then, I couldn’t ask to be paired up with a better interpreter, could I?”

“I choose to take that as a compliment. If it was meant otherwise, please don’t tell me. I’m quite sensitive.”

“Here you are,” said Elizabeth, joining them on the steps outside the church. “I’ve marked all the areas where there have been reported sightings over the past several weeks.” She offered the rolled-up map to the Doctor, who waved it away.