Doctor How and the Rings of Uranus Read Free Page B

kicking around. Not that size, anyway. So, back to the bridge and let’s blow this baby and get out of here.”
    Kevin was glad the Doctor was navigating. He couldn’t have found his way back to the bridge through the endless series of identical corridors and lifts if his life had depended on it.
    “Here we are,” said the Doctor. “Take one last look at this view. An hour from now the ship will be nothing more than dust, and will be spreading out to form a new, artificial ring.”
    “It’s gonna be amazing to watch.”
    “Now, since you’ve been a good chap, I shall let you do the honours. Come this way.”
    The Doctor led Kevin to a corner of the bridge where there was lettering and symbols in a dozen different languages. He recognised Squill and did his best to translate.
    “Termination. Death assured. Warning.”
    “Yep, that’s about right. See that symbol there?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That’s the Squill equivalent of a skull and crossbones. Not everyone has a skull, you see. Or bones, for that matter, if they have exoskeletons. So you just have this round thing obviously breaking, with fluid coming out of it. Nature tends to like making spheres,” he nodded to Uranus. “And everybody has some kind of life-fluid which they tend to die without. Well, everyone you’d want to meet in the Pleasant universe.”
    “ Gotcha. Let me try the other instructions. Uh. Red button under… Oh, remove cover and press red button… Repeat order speak. Name and job. Must be above… Don’t know this bit.”
    “Rank must be above… Rear Admiral is the equivalent in human terms. Expensive bit of kit, you see. Only someone that rank or above can set the detonation process. That would explain everything. This bit of kit was made redundant, then mothballed. A simple bit of straight-line depreciation and even an asset this size disappears from the balance sheet in a couple of millennia. Crew rotates, then they’re laid off and not replaced. Janitor doesn’t have the rank to clean it up, then he’s made redundant. No one thinks about it any longer. A few millennia later there’s a perfectly good helium-3 mining ship kicking around where it shouldn’t be. You can see how it happens.”
    “Makes sense.”
    “I’m a little disturbed that you think it does. It’s bureaucracy at its worst. Somewhere at the heart of this there’s a Dolt with something waiting to be signed in triplicate.”
    Kevin rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re just so prejudiced. Get over it.”
    “Oh, give me another few thousand years and a brain bypass and I just about might.” He cleared his throat. “If Sir would care to press the red button?”
    With a flourish of his hand, Kevin lifted up the flap covering the red button. “ It will be my pleasure, Doctor. Three. Two. One. Go.” He pressed the red button and it lit in red.
    “Admiral How, Time Keeper of Gaelfrey. I am ordering this ship destroyed under the chronological technology hygiene rules covering primitive species.”
    “Affirmative,” said a metallic-sounding female voice. It spoke smoothly until it came to variable words, which it uttered in a stilted manner, putting Kevin in mind of an automated checkout. “Admiral. How. Voice recognised. Welcome. Admiral. How. Please repeat action and order. Place finger in analyser to confirm biological identity.”
    The Doctor nodded at Kevin, who pressed the red button again. A hole opened up and the Doctor put his finger in. “Admiral How,” he said. “Time Keeper of Gaelfrey. Ship to be destroyed under chronological hygiene rules covering primitive species. Annular debris field requested, as pre-programmed. Red in visible spectrum. Order irrevocable.”
    “Nuclear peptide structure confirmed as. Admiral. How. Order u nderstood and accepted. Admiral. How.” The red button now began to flash steadily. “Admiral. How. You have. Thirty. Sidereal. Minutes. Before termination is initiated. Warning. This ship will be destroyed in. Thirty.