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The Well-Mannered War - Chapter Ten
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Explanations
The Glute-screen shimmered and went blank. 
Immediately the Darkness shivered and convulsed, and a moment of panic rushed 
through the Onemind. A clamorous chittering spread in a wave' throughout the 
central cavity. The Caring stilled it, releasing a warm stream of fluid 
particles to soothe the constricted carrier vessels. Then the Onememory set to 
work, piecing together the seconds leading up to the cessation and trying to 
discern a reason. The imaging nets behind the screen were in perfect order, 
glistening with the spoor-juice of the telepath species that had given the 
Darkness its talents, and the remote reports from the surface of Barclow - from 
both the human source and the dissociated Cloud - were coming through clear and 
strong. 
Perhaps, a section of the Onemind suggested, it is the humans' communications 
that have failed them. 
Another put in, Yes. The path of electrical technology is unreliable. 
The Onememory replied, This is possible. The Space-Cloud Ones are still in 
floatation near the army's east satellite. The Onememory suggests they 
investigate its systems and report. 
The Onememory is wise, replied the Onemind. We shall send the Space-Cloud Ones 
to the satellite. It connected with the Space-Cloud Ones and relayed the order. 



Fritchoff edged very slowly through the control centre, even more slowly through 
the connecting passageway beyond, and entered the Chamber of Death at a pace 
that a snail could have disparaged. As he moved he pressed himself flat with his 
back against the walls, going by the assumption that if he kept out of the 
Chelonians' way - and they had their feet tied at present with the war - they 
would forget to kill him, at least for the moment. Fortunately nobody looked up 
from their business, and he was able to stay alive, if teeth-chatteringly 
terrified, all the way to where the Doctor was suspended, his extremities 
spreadeagled in the slowly stretching Web. General Jafrid, his shell perpetually 
rumbling, was at the forefront of the watching group. His old eyes were angled 
up, and Fritchoff saw moisture in them. He was wary of reaching conclusions 
about non-verbal signals sent by such an unfamiliar being; even so, an air of 
regret seemed to hang in the air in much the same way as the Doctor was doing. 

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'There's still time,' the Doctor called down. His arms and legs were pulled out 
to what looked like their fullest extent. 'Call up your chum the Admiral and 
make friends.'
Jafrid sighed. 'You will soon be unable to speak, or to express anything but 
your agony,' he said. 'Would it not be better to make your last words full of 
repentance?' 
'I've nothing to repent,' said the Doctor. 'Nothing that concerns you, anyway.' 
An aide shuffled into the chamber, thankfully ignoring Fritchoff, and crashed to 
attention before the General. 'Sir, something strange is happening. The 
sensornet says that the computer guidance of all the humans' systems has ceased 
to function.' 
'Strange?' Jafrid perked up. 'But this is excellent news. How did we manage 
that?' 
The aide looked down. 'That's just it, sir. We don't think we did. Their 
guidance beams just suddenly stopped registering.' 
Jafrid heaved himself up. 'Interesting. Perhaps it's some sort of trick. I shall 
come to have a look.' He shuffled off towards the control centre, again ignoring 
Fritchoff. He called behind him, 'I shall not forget you, Doctor. I shall return 
to witness your death.' 
'Thank you,' the Doctor called after him. 'I'm touched to be in your thoughts.' 
Jafrid's assistant followed him out, brushing right past Fritchoff The edge of 
his shell actually brushed Fritchoff's arm. But again, Fritchoff was ignored. 
As soon as the chamber was empty of Chelonians, the Doctor hissed down, 'I'm 
very pleased to see you. Good job I saved you earlier, wasn't it?' He wiggled 
his fingers. 'This is getting quite uncomfortable. Be a good chap and cut me 
down, will you?' 
Fritchoff moved over curiously to the control panel located in front of the Web. 
'They want to kill you, do they?' 

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'Well spotted.' The Doctor winced. 'The pressure's building. Quickly, cut me 
down, before they come back.'
Fritchoff folded his arms. 'I'm not sure whether I should.' 
'What?' The Doctor stared down at him, incredulous. 
'Well,' said Fritchoffm, 'when it's placed in a historical as well as a 
socio-economic context, their action in putting you up there is actually worthy 
of my support.' 
'I beg your pardon?' 
Fritchoff relished the chance of explaining his cleverness. 'By dint of standing 
against the oppressive regime that has destroyed all chances of a peaceful 
settlement, the Chelonians are engaging in intrinsically socially productive 
activity. Your death is a token of their belief system, which as a non-aligned 
rebel I feel to be the most logical and correct one at present.' 
The Doctor yelped as one of the strands tightened around his neck. 'Fritchoff,' 
he called, 'if you don't cut me down this planet won't stand a chance against 
the real enemy.' 
'There you go again,' said Fritchoff 'You criticize anything that prevents you, 
as a bourgeois male, from exercising an automatic right to power, characterizing 
it as an enemy in order to increase an area of mythic threat in the meaning 
structures of those around you.' 
The Doctor groaned and let his head fall back. 



For six hours Cadinot had been hunched over his station, giving commands he had 
never expected to give, watching displays that were normally empty fill up with 
the blips that signified losses of men and equipment. Even now it was hard to 
remember that this was not a drill, and every few minutes he shivered with 
realization of the carnage going on in the war zone. The Chelonians had deployed 
their forces with aplomb, selecting sheltered ground sites for missile attacks 
and following through with barrage fire from their saucer fleet. The post's 
defences were stretched to their ultimate capacity as wave after wave of 
Chelonian firepower rained down. The strategy would be effective in the end, 
Cadinot knew. They could hold out only an hour or two longer. It would take only 
one plasma missile to strike the Strat Room, and the war for Barclow would be 
all but over. 

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He was dragged from these musings by an urgent sequence of clicks and bleeps 
originating from the satellite link display in front of him. He watched, 
startled, as one by one the indicators that charted the satellite's computer 
guidance snapped out like stars covered by dawn.
'Admiral!' he called over his shoulder. 'The east sat's playing up again.' He 
punched in an auto-check program on the link. 'All our guidance lines have 
snapped out!' 
Dolne's natural quietness had increased over the last few hours. He had been 
content to sit back in his command chair, apparently lost in thought and 
unconcerned with directing the progress of the team. But now he was crouched 
forward; his face contorted, as if in silent communion to some god. When he 
spoke it was in an unfamiliarly gravelly voice, empty of much of his usual 
inflection. 'Cadinot,' he said, dragging himself over. 'The time has come.' 
The Strat Room had gone unnaturally quiet as the computers went off-line. The 
team's heads turned to watch the Admiral as he tottered forward. He seemed to 
have gained about ten years, thought Cadinot. 'Are you all right, sir?' 
'The time has come,' Dolne went on, 'to leave this place and go to the surface.' 

'But, sir,' Cadinot protested, 'we're thirty men down, and without computer 
guidance we're finished.' 
Dolne's reply was a smile. 'Finished? Yes. As a species. The moment is close.' 
He staggered towards the door. 'Leave your stations and follow me. We go to 
die.' 
Cadinot sat transfixed as the other members of the Strat Team followed Dolne's 
shambling figure from the room. 





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'There were no riots,' said Romana, looking out of the window at the empty city. 
She looked down at K9, who was circling disconsolately around the study. 'And no 
election either.'
'And no electorate.' Harmock was slumped back in his chair. His head shook in 
disbelief like the mechanism of an overwound toy. 'I feel as if I've been 
thumped. All my hard work's gone for nothing.' 
Romana refrained from pointing out that he didn't seem to have done any work at 
all and knelt to address K9. 'Give me your hypothesis.' 
K9's sensors twitched impotently. 'Without full range of capabilities I cannot 
deduce certainties, Mistress.' 
'Just do your best.' 
'It is probable that the city we saw on the public broadcast screens and through 
the glass portals in this dome was a computer simulation.' He whirred in 
frustration. 'If my sensor array had not been damaged I would have been able to 
report this finding much sooner.' 
Romana breathed out slowly. 'So nobody and nothing here was real. The detail was 
incredible.' 
Harmock coughed. 'Excuse me.' He poked himself in the midriff. 'Young lady, I am 
no computer simulation. And look.' He pointed to the public broadcast screen 
built into his desktop. On the death of the Femdroids it had reverted to showing 
an image from one of the dome's internal security scanners. This showed the 
unspeaking, tabard-wearing administrators and officials stumbling about 
aimlessly, all their direction and wordless purpose drained. Dotted among the 
citizens were the collapsed bodies of Femdroids. 'They look jolly real too.' 

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'Then there's nobody outside the dome,' said Romana. She pressed her ear to the 
glass of the window. There was no sound but the distant keening of a low wind. 
'Only this strange little kingdom, perpetuating itself. You and Rabley, slugging 
it out, all the while believing your actions were having an impact. And the war 
dragging on and on, over five generations.' She tapped the glass and looked over 
at the slumped body of Galatea. 'I wish we knew why.'
K9 nudged forward and cast a glance over the body. 'Although motivational and 
power circuits have been burnt out, Mistress, I postulate that the Galatea 
unit's cerebral core has endured. When my own full function has been restored it 
may be possible to affect a transition of data.' 
'You mean to say,' Harmock said, 'you could read her mind?' 
'That is what I said, yes,' said K9. 
Harmock leant over and brushed a lock of hair from Galatea's forehead. 'I do 
hope you can get her back. I'm already feeling rather lost without her 
influence.' He giggled. 'My entire life has been a sham, concocted for her 
benefit.' 
'Hers,' Romana said grimly, thinking disturbing thoughts, 'or somebody else's.' 
'Suggest use sonic screwdriver to remove brain core,' prompted K9. 'It is 
imperative that we discover the reason for the deception.' 

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Romana pulled the screwdriver from her pocket and adjusted the setting. 'If I 
didn't know better, K9, I'd say you were curious.'
'Negative,' said K9. 'My advice is based on my extrapolation from known events.' 

Behind them there was suddenly a commotion, the sound of breathless running and 
stomping feet. Then Stokes came tumbling through the still-smoking door, his 
clothing disarrayed and his normally flushed face a sallow shade. He jerked a 
thumb back over his shoulder. 'You'll never guess,' he managed to gasp. 
Romana was too engrossed in her examination of Galatea to really notice him. The 
Femdroid leader had no discernible hinges, inspection plates or access points. 
It occurred to her that there had been no human maintenance staff in the dome, 
and that presumably the Femdroids had carried repairs on each other. She traced 
the throbbing end of the screwdriver across Galatea's forehead in the hope of 
triggering a concealed mechanism. 'What is it?' 
'They've disappeared. The entire city.' Stokes came charging into the room. 'And 
all my work's gone too. I looked out over the park, and my centrepiece has been 
removed. The design's been changed back.' 
Romana couldn't help but feel a pang of pity. 'I don't think it was ever there, 
Stokes.' 
'What do you mean?' 

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K9 turned from the window. 'My study of the plant life and associated rates of 
decay visible from this portal suggest to me that the world outside has not been 
populated for approximately one hundred and twenty-one years.'
'Don't be ridiculous.' Stokes bit his lip. 'I've been out there, travelled the 
walkways, sat in the greenspaces. I've got friends out there. My special, 
discerning friends, the ones who appreciate me.' 
Harmock crossed to him and tapped him on the shoulder. 'I could say much the 
same. We've all been conned.' He pointed to his head. 'It's as if my memory is 
up there, but they've put things into it.' 
Romana nodded. 'We underestimated the scale of Galatea's plan, Stokes. As far as 
we can tell, we're the only people left on the planet.' 
Stokes rubbed his chin and looked out of the window. 'So where did they go? The 
real citizens?' 
'That's what we're going to ask her,' said Romana, indicating Galatea. The head 
was not responding in the slightest to the screwdriver and she was beginning to 
wonder how cleverly the Femdroids had been constructed. 'We can remove the 
brain, supply just a fraction of its power, and link it through to K9.' 
'Not likely,' said Stokes. 
Harmock frowned. 'What do you mean?' 

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'Well.' Stokes shrugged and spread his hands wide. 'I got a bit carried away 
down there. The driving moment, you know, in which all considerations are 
dispensed with and the human animal comes into its own.'
Romana stood up and gave him a hard stare. 'Stokes.' 
'I smashed the place to pieces,' he said. 'It's in total ruins.' He indicated 
Galatea. 'You won't get Miss Bossy Boots talking again, no matter how hard you 
might try.' 



The Space-Cloud Ones' report hit the Darkness with the impact of a sting. The 
Glute-screen came back to life, the surface ripples increasing in size and speed 
as the image re-formed. The Darkness saw space, the distant stars of Fostrix's 
hub, the cursed sun of this system; then Barclow wheeled into the field of 
vision, half obscured by the shadow of mighty Metralubit. Between them was the 
satellite, outwardly rather clumsy and unshapely, With silvery prongs and 
antennae bristling on its surfaces. The electrical lights that normally 
signalled its activity had winked out, and it could be seen only in silhouette 
against the arid grey surface of the moon it circled. 
The Cloud moved in, penetrating the faulty inspection plate on the sat's topside 
as it had several times before. Again it found darkness and quiet. No computer 
chattered, no display was lit, no information passed from Metralubit to Barclow. 
It was as if the huge, populous planet on which they were to feast was already 
dead. 

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This thought shook the Cloud, and the tremor was felt in the Darkness. The 
hunger it had kept suppressed roared in hurt. But it was only a thought, the 
Onememory reassured the Onemind, a fleeting fancy. There was much meat on 
Metralubit, as always. The planet was crawling with humans, who were even now 
destroying each other by the thousand. They had seen it on the screens and in 
the bulletins. They had looked into the minds of the combatants. They believed 
it.
The Space-Cloud Ones were less certain. Perhaps they had been suspended too long 
between worlds and in the light to be so trusting. 
For the first time in Coming From the Great Void they turned their attentions 
away from Barclow and on to Metralubit, straining their senses to detect the 
feverish, violent psychic activities of the dying humans there. 
They detected none. 



Cadinot stood back as the Strat Team filed through the entry hatch of the 
command post and up on to the surface. They carried their small, useless pistols 
awkwardly, and wore befuddled expressions, but none of them were going to doubt 
the words of Admiral Dolne. He was sensible and kind, and so his commands must 
be for the best. 

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Dolne himself was standing against a bulkhead, watching them go by with a look 
almost of hunger in his eyes. He seemed to be lost in thought, and a pulse in 
his temple twitched oddly. 'No,' he croaked. 'No, this cannot be.'
Cadinot walked over. 'Admiral, I feel we ought to stop and think about this. 
What's the point in throwing away our lives?' 
Dolne glared at him murderously. 'Your lives?' he spluttered. 'Your lives are 
meaningless.' He lurched forward and clapped Cadinot on the shoulders. 'Don't 
you see? You exist only to feed us. How can your lives-' He broke off and a 
spasm of shock passed through his body, making it shake from head to toe. 'I 
can't... Cadinot, no ...' 
Cadinot packed away, quite terrified by the change in his commander. 



The Darkness shuffled through Dolne's mind. 
Aged fifty-two. Good-looking, straight-backed, picked for his looks - looks good 
on the telly. A redoubtable, kindly character. Always does his best, and try to 
keep things convivial and people happy. Has a wife. The wife is called... the 
wife is called - 
The Darkness met a barrier. 
He's great chums with General Jafrid. Ever since he first came to Barclow. 
Before that, he was in training at a military academy. Put in there by his 
parents. They were keen he should enter the army, they'd always been... they'd 
always been - 
There was no further memory of the parents. 
Everything, stormed the Onemind. Everything under the surface of his mind is a 
lie. 
The Onememory quivered, and a chill ran through its strands. We have been 
deceived. 
A ghostly cry went up. There is no meat on Metralubit! 

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One of the Doctor's joints cracked audibly. He gasped. 'I think my shoulder's 
been dislocated.'
Fritchoff looked up at him, caught in an agony of indecision. 'The thing is,' he 
called, 'if I release you, how would I justify that course ideologically? It's 
not something I feel is as cut and dried as you'd like me to think. Try to 
remember that our willingness to expendability as individuals is quite possibly 
a powerful revolutionary weapon. Capitalists don't have an equivalent framework, 
only a loose collection of economically arrayed "morals".' 
'There's a good chance you'll die too, Fritchoff,' the Doctor called. His face 
was now streaked with sweat. 
'Well, exactly,' said Fritchoff. 'It clinches my point. And I like to think I 
live in a radically geared relationship to death.' 
'You will if I ever get out of here,' the Doctor mumbled. 
'What was that?' asked Fritchoff. 

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'Nothing.' The Doctor, using the limited space available to him, nodded over to 
the door. 'If you really want to die I suggest you hang around. I hear 
footsteps.'
Immediately, Fritchoff scurried behind the Web control panel. From this hiding 
place he saw General Jafrid and Dekza enter. The General snorted up at the 
Doctor. 'I never thought your kind would fall so easily. In many ways it is 
pathetic.' 
'What have I done this time?' 
Jafrid held up a small monitor device in one front foot. Fritchoff could just 
glimpse a cluster of small dots, most probably life signs, moving uncertainly 
forward. 'Dolne is leaving the command post with his last remaining men,' said 
Jafrid, 'and advancing, virtually unarmed, across the war zone, through the 
bodies of the dead. All his computer systems have failed.' 
All of them?' The Doctor frowned. 'I'm sure that's the sort of thing I'd find 
terribly interesting and significant if I wasn't racked with pain.' 
'I go now to bestow upon him an honourable death.' Jafrid pulled himself up. 
'Once, I am sure, he was an honourable man. Until warmongering creatures like 
you took him and moulded him to your will.' 
'I've never even met him,' the Doctor gasped. His shoulder was wrenched back 
again. 

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'It is too late for lies,' snarled the General. He turned his back on the 
Doctor. 'When I return you will be a mass of flesh jelly, your bones all broken, 
your internal organs punctured. It is a fitting death.' He stalked out, Dekza 
trailing behind.
As soon as they were gone Fritchoff raced out of hiding. Without saying a word 
he raced forward and started to cut at the strand curled tight about the 
Doctor's ankle. 
'You've changed your tune,' the Doctor hissed down at him. 
'Of course,' Fritchoff whispered back. He stopped cutting to explain. 'I can't 
support the concept of honour in war. It's a construct of cultural forces.' 
'Never mind that, just carry on sawing,' the Doctor urged. 



Romana stood in the doorway of the Femdroids' master control room and gave a 
long, heartfelt sigh. It seemed that not a single piece of their equipment had 
survived Stokes's onslaught, and clumps of fizzing, sparking circuitry lay on 
all sides, along with shattered glass, chunks of metal and toppled panels. 
K9 made a swift survey of the room. 'Component failure estimated at sixty-eight 
per cent, Mistress.' 


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Romana threw Stokes an accusing look. 'Did you have to be so thorough?'
'It did the job.' He pushed past her and gestured to the wall screen, on which 
they could see Harmock talking to some of the dome's workers, the immobile 
Femdroids in the background. 'There, you see. If I'd reined my energy in, we 
might all be dead by now. They were shooting at us, remember.' 
Romana considered. 'In fact, they were shooting at me and K9. You and Harmock 
were just going to be reconditioned. We were the threat.' 
'Affirmative,' said K9. 'Perhaps because we were the only ones to begin to 
perceive the illusion.' 
Stokes righted a chair that had fallen in a comer and sat in it. 'Pure 
conjecture. It won't get you any further. I say we should just put this down as 
being one of the great, unexplained mysteries of the universe, and clear out. We 
could use your TARDIS for that.' He made the suggestion with a casualness that 
unnerved Romana. 'We're too far out from anywhere important to make the journey 
any other way, I should think. After all, it took me millions of years.' He 
clapped his podgy hands together. 'What I'd give to see a good, old-fashioned 
transmat pad.' 
Romana clicked her fingers. 'What did you just say?' 
'Transmat pad,' said Stokes again. 'Why, have you got one? There are none about 
here - it's shockingly primitive 
Romana paced around the room, her mind piecing together recent events. 'They 
have a Fastspace link to Barclow, but no transmat.' 

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'I pointed this out earlier, Mistress,' said K9.
'Yes, yes.' She stopped in front of a large, glass-fronted unit that Stokes had 
all but ripped apart. 'And it's a ridiculous anomaly. They work on the same 
principle.' She turned to Stokes and pointed a long finger at him. 'And you come 
from a place with both. Tell me, how does a Fastspace link work?' 
'What?' Stokes screwed up his face. 'How am I expected to know that? I've no 
interest in technicalities. As long as it switches on and it does what I want it 
to do I don't care how it works.' 
'But you've seen enough Fastspace engines? You could picture one in your mind?' 
'Just about, I suppose.' Stokes looked uncomfortable. 'Where is this leading 
to?' 
'Duplication from mental image manipulation,' suggested K9 cryptically. 
Stokes kicked his casing lightly. 'What does that mean?' 
'K9,' said Romana. 'Retrieve data from our last encounter with Mr Stokes, on the 
Rock of Judgement. Compare the technological specifications of this room to the 
specifications of that environment.' 
K9 whirred. 'Cross-indexing.' 
Stokes stood up. 'Do you mean what I think you mean?' 
She looked him in the eye. 'When you drifted here, Stokes, I don't think it was 
the Femdroids that found you but their creators.' 
'Mistress,' said K9 brightly. 'Correlation is almost total. The Fastspace 
technology used here was adapted from Mr Stokes's memories of similar systems 
from his own homeplace. He also has knowledge of detailed computer simulations 
such as the one used to create the world outside the dome.' 
'No, I don't,' Stokes protested. 'I don't understand the first thing about 
computers.' 

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'But the image of them was in your mind,' said Romana. 'You'd come into contact 
with them. The Creators teased out the image from your mind and from it learnt 
the rudiments.'
Stokes shook his head firmly. 'I only came here three years ago. The stuff 
you're talking about is hundreds of years old.' 
'Suggest your lifecycle and mental state were conditioned,' said K9. 'You were 
returned to a cryogenic state and only revived recently.' 
'Probably for quick reference.' Romana tapped him playfully on the shoulder. 
'The Femdroids wanted you up and about so they could tap your brain in an 
emergency.' 
Stokes sank back down in his chair and put his hands up to his temples. 'I have 
the most appalling headache.' Then a smile started to play about his lips. 'You 
mean to say, all that's happened here centres around me?' 
'Not all.' Romana glanced at the row of deactivated Killer Femdroids in their 
berths. 'I don't know how they created such sophisticated machine intelligences. 
Anybody can make an android, but the brains inside are staggeringly advanced. I 
can't think how you'd ever have met something as clever as Galatea.' 
K9 beeped insistently and shot forward. 'Mistress. Mr Stokes and I spent two 
hours and fourteen minutes together during the affair of the Xais mutant.' 
Stokes laughed openly. 'You mean, you are the blueprint for Galatea?' 
'It is very likely,' said K9. 
'Hmm.' Stokes raised a finger. 'But I don't see any time-travel boxes like your 
TARDIS.' 

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'Duplication of the TARDIS is impossible,' K9 said smugly. 'It would take a 
human many years of study to understand the least of its workings.'
Romana's attention was once more taken up by the screen's view of Harmock 
talking to the citizens. 'So, the Creators made the Femdroids, and the link to 
Barclow. I can see why they would want to improve the lives of their people. But 
then why the simulation?' 
Stokes waved a hand. 'I hardly think anybody is going to just pop up and explain 
it all, dear.' 
The words were barely out of his mouth when there came an electronic whistling 
noise, and the air in the centre of the room shimmered to form a hologram. 
Galatea stood before them again. 
'I leave this message,' she said coolly, 'in the hope it shall never be 
needed...' 



Fritchoff marvelled at the Doctor's recovery from the agony of the Web. In short 
order, he had reset his own shoulder joint, sneaked from the base under the very 
noses of the few remaining Chelonians, and stolen an unmanned patrol vehicle. 
They were now rolling through the war zone, which had returned to its previous 
soothing silence, the forward screen leading them at a safe distance behind 
General Jafrid's larger armoured vehicle. 
The Doctor piloted the craft with the ease of familiarity, changing gears and 
traction settings without paying much attention as he ran through their position 
in his own mind. 'The flies are going to come in soon and start their feast. 
We've no allies, and pretty soon no enemies either, when this lot have torn each 
other apart. My friends Romana and K9 are far away on Metralubit, and I'm not 
sure if I could find the TARDIS again if I tried.' 

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Fritchoff wasn't certain about the details of the speech but he caught the 
general drift. 'It's a nihilistic outlook, and one with which I have to agree. 
What we're seeing is the inevitable, irrecoverable end of a non-revolutionized 
society.'
'I thought the revolution was inevitable?' asked the Doctor. 
'There may be certain extenuating circumstances, especially when, as here, there 
is an invasion or subjugation by a hostile power.' He slumped back, which was 
difficult in the cramped surroundings. 'We must both accept our deaths, and 
accept that whatever personal hopes and fears we may have had in our lives have 
been made irrelevant.' 
The Doctor gave a cynical laugh and nudging him with a bony elbow. 'I don't know 
about that, Fritchoff. You might still get your revolution yet.' 



The hologram expanded, replacing Galatea with a shimmering network of 
unfamiliarly arranged stars. Romana moved closer, feeling that she could reach 
out and touch the myriad points of light and snuff them out like candles. 

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'The Fostrix galaxy, Mistress,' said K9.
Stokes edged nearer. 'I hope this is going to be an apology as well as an 
explanation.' 
Galatea's voice came from the centre of the image as the representation shifted, 
narrowing down on the enormous cerise sphere of Metralubit. 'Our world was 
settled by pure-strain human colonists centuries ago, and has developed into a 
thriving, economically self-sufficient society of several billion.' 
'She should have been a travel agent,' muttered Stokes. The image shifted to 
show a view of Metron similar to the one they had seen from the window of 
Harmock's study. But this city, although markedly similar in design principles 
and in its general layout, with curving towers and transparent travel tubeways, 
was dirtier; and the people moving around between the buildings were more 
varied, more hurried. More real, thought Romana. 
Galatea's voice went on. 'We had developed a limited spacefaring capacity. So it 
was that our scientists were able to intercept a stray space capsule that 
wandered into our ambit. Inside we found a human from a far distant time.' 
The picture now showed a team of white-coated scientists prising open a metallic 
coffin to reveal Stokes, who was in perfect condition after millennia of sleep. 
He was wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, and clutching a teddy bear to his 
chest. His duffel bag lay at his feet. 'I don't remember that at all,' said 
Stokes as he watched his own eyes opening. 'I could have sworn it was the 
Femdroids who revived me. I recall the moment distinctly.' 
'Hypno-conditioning,' whispered Romana. 

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'The human, Stokes, came from an age of great forward strides in technology. His 
mind was rich with information, which our scientists drew out over a long 
period.' The picture changed to show Stokes, still in his dressing gown, 
attached to a recording device by electrodes fixed to his temples. His lips were 
moving rapidly although his eyes were unfocused. 'After several years, much was 
learnt. The pace of Metralubitan technological development was increased 
greatly. Many uses were found for this knowledge: hydroponic rearing of 
vegetation, Fastspace travel, the invention of conditioning machines.'
'I never knew there was so much in my head,' said Stokes. 
'But the greatest innovation was the creation of mobile artificial 
intelligences. Stokes had witnessed the repair of one such intelligence and his 
memory of the interior components provided for the creation of the Femdroids.' 
The hologram now showed a production line of the beautiful women, doll-like 
faces being positioned over positronic brain cases. 
Romana was pleased to have her theory confirmed. 'They're just like you, K9.' 
'Negative,' said K9 emphatically. 'The component array is entirely mismatched, a 
rough approximation of this unit's complexity.' 

Page 22 
   




Page 23 
   

'They're a damn sight better looking,' said Stokes. 'If I was the Doctor I'd pop 
your brain into one of those dollies right away.'
K9 swivelled about, outraged. 'The Doctor Master has stated he is very fond of 
my outer aspect.' 
'Of course,' said Romana soothingly. 'We like you just the way you are.' 
Galatea continued. 'Each Femdroid was assigned to a particular task in 
administration, thus lightening the menial load of the organics. We do not feel 
tiredness or boredom and are thus more efficient.' They saw a quick-cutting 
montage of scenes: Femdroids assisting in all areas of life, lifting crates, 
making beverages, walking through the corridors of the Parliament Dome 
(corridors that were genuinely crowded). The image settled on Liris, seen at 
work in the computer room. 'This unit, our senior researcher, was assigned to 
investigate the history of the Metralubit colony. She discovered something 
sickening. The periodic collapses in the great Metralubitan civilizations - and 
the huge amounts of deaths - were not because of earthquakes, internal dissent, 
civil strife, et cetera, as had been thought.' They saw a graphic display 
similar to the one Romana had created. 'About every two thousand years the 
people of Metralubit have been harvested, eaten as carrion by a nomadic race of 
tiny intelligent insectoids. The truth lay dormant in the folklore and culture 
of our world, but an organic would never have seen it.' 
'Insects? What's all this about now?' protested Stokes. 
'Mistress,' put in K9, 'recall insect life on Barclow.' 

Page 24 
   

Romana remembered the tiny bite to her cheek. She rubbed at it thoughtfully. 
'Yes, I do.'
'Liris took her information to me,' said the hologram. 'We acted according to 
our utilitarian programming - the maximum possible happiness for the maximum 
number of the population - and formulated a plan to trap and destroy the Hive. 
We knew that, alone, our organic masters were helpless prey; they had proved 
that by falling to the previous five harvests. What we had discovered could not 
be made public, as the humans would panic and make mistakes.' 
Stokes nudged K9 with the toe of his shoe. 'They've certainly inherited your 
superiority complex.' 
'To my reasoning, their course of action is merely logical,' K9 retorted. 
Galatea returned to the forefront of the image. She seemed to be addressing them 
directly, only her shimmering outline indicating that she wasn't standing right 
there. 'We constructed a massive transmat engine using information from the mind 
of Mr Stokes. One night as the organics slept we sent them all away.' 
'They did what?' Stokes was incredulous. 'Those girls think big, don't they?' 
'All but a handful of the organics were sent to the verdant planet Regus V in 
the next system but two. Food supplies are plentiful there, and Femdroids were 
dispatched to organize them and keep them in effective social units. On Regus V 
the citizens were protected from the inevitable return of the Hive.' 
'I'm beginning to understand,' said Romana. 

Page 25 
   

'I'm glad somebody is,' Stokes grumbled. 'I'm going to wind this thing back and 
watch it all over again. I'm sure I've missed something.'
'We continued to run the administration in the dome,' said Galatea. They saw the 
familiar scenes of Harmock and the overalled citizens tramping about the 
corridors. 'We used our conditioning machines on the humans here, together with 
a complex computer simulation, to enhance the illusion that Metralubit remained 
a densely populated world. It was essential to use real humans in the dome, 
particularly the leading political figures, to lend verisimilitude to the trap.' 

'I wish she'd say why,' said Stokes. 
'We knew the Hive would return imminently. Our illusion was meant for them. 
Liris's studies had told us how they used psychic interference to worsen 
conflict situations. So we provided one, in the shape of the war over Barclow. 
The Chelonians were preparing to depart from the Metra system at the time of the 
Bechet Treaty's signing. We prevented this by regularly conditioning their 
leader, General Jafrid, on his visits to the dome for peace summits.' 
'So that's why the Chelonians were apparently so keen to take Barclow as their 
own,' said Stokes. 
Galatea went on. 'When the Hive picked up our transmissions about the war, they 
would use it to create much death in order to feed.' The image showed the war 
zone of Barclow. 'This was our lure. Using the simulation we intended to create 
images of devastation on Metralubit and increase their confidence. We would 
simulate the release of the long-awaited Phibbs Report to lend credibility to 
these actions. Then, as the Hive readied itself to descend, we would send a 
conditioning impulse to Barclow, uniting the remaining soldiers there on both 
sides to launch a missile attack.' An animated display showed missiles streaking 
from Barclow towards the Hive, shown as a louring black triangle in space. 'The 
Hive would resist by coming into low orbit and releasing parts of itself to 
swarm down to the surface. At which point a zodium bomb we have placed in the 
core of Barclow would be released, destroying them.' 

Page 26 
   

'And the remaining soldiers,' said Romana bitterly. 'Obviously they would be 
expendable.'
'Maximum happiness for the maximum number,' said K9 primly. 'The Femdroids' plan 
is a masterpiece of logical reasoning extrapolated into action. Any short-term 
solution devised by organics would almost certainly fail and lead to more loss 
of life.' 
'Listen,' said Stokes. 'Without us, there wouldn't be any of you. So don't give 
yourself airs.' 
'Thousands of years and millions of deaths,' countered K9. 'A cycle broken by 
machine intelligence.' 
'Stop bickering,' said Romana. 
'The Hive would not expect our retaliation,' said Galatea, 'as the mean time 
between their harvests - two thousand years - does not account for the increase 
in technology provided by intercultural encounters.' 
'There we are,' said Stokes proudly. 'It's actually me who's the cornerstone of 
this business. Without my feeble human brain they'd all be done for.' 
'After the Hive's destruction,' said Galatea, 'we would release the 
dome-dwellers to repopulate Metralubit with the citizens returned from Regus V.' 
She frowned. 'This message is programmed only to be played in the event of a 
total mechanical failure in the dome before the completion of the project. If 
the scenario has failed, then I am afraid you will die. The Hive will be made 
angry by the discovery of our deception. They will swarm in great numbers and 
consume you, alive. They prefer their meat to be dead and decaying, but they 
have been known to bring down their prey in extreme circumstances.' She bowed 
her head. 'Goodbye.' The hologram clicked out. 

Page 27 
   

'Oh my God!' Stokes shrieked. He looked around the smashed control room. 'Oh my 
God, what have I done? We're all going to die!' He started to shake. 'The 
insects must be coming here - they started the war up again. When they see it's 
all a fake, the election and everything, they'll swarm and eat us all.'
'This is the unproductive organic reaction known as panic,' said K9. 'It was 
precisely to avoid such condign action that the Femdroids concealed their plan 
from us.' 
Romana was considering what action to take, and K9 wasn't helping. 'If you're as 
clever as you keep saying, then think of a way to get us out of this!' She had 
never raised her voice to K9 before, she realized. 
K9 flashed his eyescreen at her. 'Please do not displace your guilt on to me, 
Mistress.' 
His tone was hurt, and she dropped to her knees and pressed her head against 
his. 'I'm sorry, K9. But we have made a pretty big mistake, haven't we?' 
'Affirmative, Mistress,' he said quietly. 'Advise return to TARDIS and depart.' 
'That's a bloody good idea,' said Stokes. 'We can use the shuttle we came in and 
get back to Barclow.' He pointed to the door. 'Come on, let's go.' 
Romana caught his arm. 'That Hive will be near, out in space between the two 
worlds. We might run straight into them.' 

Page 28 
   

'And we might slip on a bar of soap in the shower tomorrow morning and break our 
necks,' retorted Stokes. 'If there's a chance we should take it, don't you 
think?' His mood was more sombre and practical than usual, the affected veneer 
of his personality stripped away.
'I never thought I'd hear you talk like that,' she told him. 
He looked over his shoulder at the wall screen and its I view of the empty city. 
'I really thought I had it all,' he I muttered. 'The people here loved me, and 
they adored my work. You don't know how much it meant to me. All these years 
I've been the only person who believed in what I did. And then I came here, and 
it really meant something to people. Finally, I was breaking through.' He shook 
an angry fist at the space where Galatea had stood. 'Except it didn't, did it? 
My bloody career still doesn't actually mean a thing. It was all a sham.' He 
looked upwards, shouting at the ceiling. 'All a bloody trick!' He looked 
tearful. 
Romana tugged his sleeve. 'Never mind that. We must go.' 
But he carried on, his voice directed upwards. 'And I intend to stay alive, 
because there are certain people I want to have a word with about this!' 





Page 29 
   

The valley lay in the exact centre of the war zone. From their vantage point 
high on a crag, the Doctor and Fritchoff observed preparations for the final 
battle.
Moving in on their side was General Jafrid, shuffling forward under a watchful 
armed escort. He was flanked by Chelonian troopers, four in each group, who 
fanned out in a semicircle to cover all positions. They moved at incredible 
speed for such large creatures, their limbs sawing back and forth through the 
air like the arms of a rowing team. Behind them were their tanks, parked in a 
line with the typical neatness of the species. 
From the other side of the valley came the humans - shambling, slow, uncertain, 
their weapons small and stubby, their flimsy clothes of no protection against 
the harsh wind and driving rain. Bringing up the rear of their party was Admiral 
Dolne, who moved with agonizing slowness. 
'Dolne knows he's been defeated,' Fritchoff told the Doctor. 'It's heartening to 
see a lackey of imperialist cant at the moment of raised consciousness.' 
The Doctor shook his head. 'I rather think he's been taken over. Admiral Dolne 
is dead. That's just a walking corpse.' He pointed above their heads. 'And 
there's my confirmation.' 

Page 30 
   

Fritchoff squinted. He could just discern the hovering mass of the Cloud, 
suspended halfway between the sides, readying itself to descend on the flesh 
that would soon be behind. The flies were buzzing and circling frantically, with 
an anger they had not displayed before.
His attention was taken by Jafrid, who had been passed a loud-hailer device by 
one of his aides. 'Dolne,' his voice boomed, rolling about the sides of the 
valley, 'in all the years of our acquaintance, I never knew how much you truly 
hated me. Before you die, know this. I am a Chelonian, a warrior and a patriot. 
But I bear you no ill. I cannot bring myself to.' He gestured with a front foot. 
'It is you who have brought this on yourself, as surely as if you had put a gun 
to your own head. Did our friendship truly mean nothing to you?' 
There was a strange silence, pregnant with possibilities. Fritchoff felt that 
the situation was salvageable, that it was still possible for them all simply to 
walk away unharmed. 
Dolne staggered forward. His voice carried strangely, echoing around the valley. 

'Kill them,' he said. 'Kill them all.' 

Page 31 
   

The Chelonians raised their hand weapons; the humans raised their feeble 
pistols; the cloud of flies buzzed themselves into even greater excitement.
And then the Doctor stood up, and shouted, 'Hold on a second!' 
All heads in the valley turned to face him. 
'Look up there,' the Doctor cried, pointing at the cloud. 'Look. The flies!' 
'Oh, not again.' Jafrid mumbled. 'I thought you were in the Web of Death!' 
The Doctor bounded down the side of the crag effortlessly, talking as he did, 
his deep tones resonating with authority and command. 'Forget the Web of Death. 
Forget this squalid little battle. Too many people have died today already.' He 
turned his head from humans to Chelonians. It seemed impossible to Fritchoff 
that nobody had opened fire; it was as if the sheer force of his personality 
made him bullet-proof 'Look at each other. You were friends. You still are 
friends. Wouldn't you rather stay alive? If you kill each other now the only 
ones who'll be happy are them.' He pointed up, and his audience followed his 
finger. The black cloud had descended, and was hovering only a few feet above 
the gathered heads. The Doctor crossed over to it. 'Hello. You seem to be losing 
your temper.' 

Page 32 
   

The cloud spoke in its dreadful, dragging way. 'Time Lord... we are hungry... 
and we have been... deceived...' It swooped lower.
To Fritchoff's relief, the human soldiers and Chelonian troopers stopped looking 
at each other and started to look at the cloud with fear and incomprehension. 
'You're pretty powerless up there, aren't you?' the Doctor goaded it. 'You want 
us to cut each other down: If we won't it leaves you rather in a pickle.' He 
waved mockingly. 'Go away. Lunch is off' 
'We shall... consume you all...' the cloud raged. It formed itself into a 
threatening sharply pointed V-shape and reared up. 
'By Mif,' General Jafrid breathed. 'He was right all along.' He turned to his 
troops. 'Fire at will!' 
The troopers obeyed, lancing the Cloud with bright pink bursts of energy. The 
valley echoed and re-echoed to the lacerating whizz of the blasts. 

Page 33 
   

Fritchoff saw one of the younger human officers raise his pistol. 'Come on!' the 
man shouted to his fellows. 'That's the real enemy!' The humans joined in, 
blazing away with as much enthusiasm but to lesser effect. He looked for Dolne, 
but there was no sign of him.
The Doctor threw himself out of range, his features grim. The cloud showed 
little signs of weakening, in spite of all the firepower directed against it. It 
was maddened, its buzz now raised to a fearsome level. 
'We shall... consume you... Doctor...' it managed to say. 
With the last vestige of its energy it swooped down on him. 



