CHRIS LOOKED ANXIOUSLY as Romana leant over the Professor, her face lit eerily by the green glow of the collar and the red eye-screen of K-9.
‘The collar’s working,’ she told Chris. ‘K-9, is there any trace of conscious thought?’
K-9’s radar-dish ears twizzled. In some way, thought Chris, he must be able to connect wirelessly with the collar. ‘Processing data, Mistress.’ There was a pause, then he added, ‘It is too early to tell.’
‘Good,’ said Chris.
Romana’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What do you mean, good? What’s good about any of this?’
‘Well, don’t you see?’ asked Chris, who thought it was obvious. ‘When one works as a scientist, one doesn’t always know where one’s going, or that there even is anywhere for one to go, only that there are always going to be big doors that stay permanently shut to one.’ Chris had often noticed that when he was at his very best, when he was communicating the abstract (and yet concrete) wonder of the scientific method, that people tended to assume an enthralled, glazed expression, as if he was opening their minds to entirely new ways of thinking. He was delighted to see that even Romana eyes seemed to be frosting over, and K-9’s tail antenna had drooped as if in fascination.
Chris waved a hand around the room, taking in the dog, the collar and the police box. ‘You see, I look at all this. And suddenly I know that a lot of things that seem impossible are possible, so yes, that’s why I say “good”—’
K-9 made a peculiar noise, almost as if he was clearing his throat. ‘Mistress!’ he said. ‘The Professor’s condition is rapidly deteriorating!’
Chris was astonished to see tears forming in Romana’s eyes. ‘Oh, K-9, isn’t there anything we can do?’
K-9’s head lowered. ‘Negative, Mistress. The condition is terminal.’
Chris almost put out a hand to console Romana but stopped himself.
K-9’s eye-screen flashed. ‘Minimal cerebral impulses detected, Mistress!’
The Professor’s dry cracked lips moved. ‘He’s trying to talk to us?’ gasped Chris.
‘Negative,’ said K-9. ‘The speech centres of the Professor’s brain are completely inoperative.’
Romana checked the Professor’s chest, both sides, again.
‘Well,’ Chris said sadly, ‘the collar was a good idea but it doesn’t seem to be helping—’
‘Shhh!!!’ Romana said sharply, and to his astonishment Chris found he couldn’t say another word.
‘K-9, amplify the Professor’s hearts beats!’
K-9 extended the probe from his eye-screen to the middle of the Professor’s chest. Suddenly a throbbing double pulse beat filled the room, fast and irregular.
Romana clapped her hands together. ‘Brilliant! The Professor is a brave and clever man.’ She waved to Chris. ‘Listen!’
Chris listened. The pulse beats were wildly irregular, thumping fast then slow then fast again. It didn’t sound very healthy at all. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘He’s beating his hearts in Gallifreyan Morse!’ she cried. She leant over the body. ‘Professor, I can hear you! What do you want to tell us?’
The pulse beats resounded. Romana translated the message slowly. ‘Beware… the… sphere. Beware… Skagra. Beware… Shada.’
The heartbeats stopped suddenly.
‘Professor!’ cried Romana.
‘All life function has now ceased, Mistress,’ said K-9. ‘Professor Chronotis is dead.’