TIMEWYRM: GENESYS by John Peel. Contents
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TIMEWYRM: GENESYS by John Peel. Contents: PREFACE by Peter Darvill-Evans, introducing the New Adventures series. FOREWORD by Sophie Aldred. PROLOGUE. 1: SERPENT IN THE GARDEN 2: MEMORIES ARE MADE OF. 3: WHEN YOU WISH UPON ISHTAR 4: PAST LIVES 5: AMBUSH 6: SPYING TONIGHT 7: TALKING UNION 8: BAND ON THE RUN 9: NITRO NINE, GODDESS NIL 10: ACE IN THE HOLE 11: PARTY PIECE 12: AVRAM'S TALE 13: SPLIT INFINITIES 14: THE MOUNTAINS OF MASHU 15: GUARDIANS AT THE GATE OF DAWN 16: THE LAKE OF SOULS 17: UTNAPISHTIM 18: ESCAPE 19: THE FEAST OF ISHTAR 20: ACE'S HIGH 21: ARMAGEDDON 22: APOTHEOSIS 23: TIMEWYRM! EPILOGUE ***** PREFACE ***** Here is an introductory word about Doctor Who - The New Adventures: continuity. Our objectives in publishing this series of novels are: to continue the time and space peregrinations of the Doctor and Ace from the point at which we last saw them on television, at the end of the story Survival; to continue the Doctor Who traditions of exciting science fiction stories laced with humour, drama and terror; and to continue the trend of recent seasons of television stories towards complex, challenging plots with serious themes. Within these objectives there is room for a universe of types of story and styles of writing, and I've encouraged the authors of The New Adventures to take full advantage of the scope offered by the medium of the novel. In Timewyrm: Genesys John Peel has produced a two-fisted, sword-wielding, action-packed adventure that doesn't pause for breath between the first and last pages. Each subsequent book in the Timewyrm series - Exodus by Terrance Dicks, Apocalypse by Nigel Robinson, and Revelation by Paul Cornell - has its own style; all, however, share the common Doctor Who heritage. A second series, of three novels, is in preparation. Creating a new series of original Doctor Who novels is a considerable undertaking - I can vouch for the fact that the TARDIS is a tricky craft to pilot - and thanks are due to all who made it possible: Chris Weller of BBC Books, for letting us do it; John Nathan-Turner, for supporting the project right up to the end of his Producership; Andrew Cartmel, Marc Platt, Ben Aaronovitch, John Peel, Ian Briggs, and JeanMarc Lofficier, for providing the plot and characterization details out of which I have tried to create a consistent background for the series; Andrew Skilleter, for stepping into the void to illustrate the covers; Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred, for providing such vivid characterisations of the Doctor and Ace, for allowing us to use their faces on our book covers, for supporting Doctor Who in general and The New Adventures in particular, and thanks especially to Sophie for her generosity in writing a foreword for this novel; Rhona MacNamara, my assistant, without whom I simply couldn't have done it; and every single one of the people who have submitted proposals for stories. The Doctor continues - unregenerated, but with a new lease of life. Peter Darvill-Evans, Series Editor February 1991 ***** FOREWORD ***** The legend of Gilgamesh and Enkidu takes me back to wet Thursday afternoons in the history room at school, doodling in my rough book and half listening to a droning voice at the front of the class. And when John Peel mentioned that his new book in some way encompassed that age-old story, my heart sank and I remembered a very bad essay that I'd once written about Mesopotamia. "Oh, great: that's fantastic," I muttered, summoning up a false grin. Imagine my delight when John sent me his first draft which I started reading and couldn't put down. Why hadn't my history teacher described these characters as though they existed and shaped a real world, our world, all those thousands of years ago? Well, I suppose she can be forgiven, for she had no TARDIS, no Time Lord and no Ace to help her relate something so far back in time to our modern lives. No Doctor, no Ace. That's something we all feared would happen at one point. I was heartbroken to say farewell to such a dynamic, interesting character, one who was such a good foil to Sylvester's irascible, quirky, utterly lovable Doctor, a character to whom even strangers could relate and use as a role model, a real life companion who reflected our society and especially the young woman's role at the end of 1980s. And now all is not lost! Ace continues to live on the printed page, as bolshy, as aggravating and just as much a headache for the "professor" as she was on the small screen. I'm very honoured to have been asked to write the foreword for what marks an exciting journey ahead for Doctor Who. I wish the writers good luck and happy hunting, for there are an infinite number of stories yet to be told. And you, the reader, will ensure that this strangely wonderful man will continue to inspire the imaginations of millions of people all over the globe, with his twinkling eye and his unquenchable thirst for knowledge and truth whenever or wherever he pops his head out the door of that battered old police box. Finally my thanks go to all those who have welcomed me so warmly into the Doctor Who family. I have this strange feeling that it's one I shall never leave. Sophie Aldred. February 1991 For Jeremy and Paula Bentham and it's about time. People of Eridu, hear me! You who shop in the market place, listen. You who tend the vines by the Great River, stop your work. You who guard the flocks from wolves and lions, give heed. Mighty are the deeds of Gilgamesh, king of men! Strong is the arm of Enkidu, brother to the beast! Mysterious are the paths of Ea, god of wisdom. Bright the promises by Aya, goddess of the dawn. You who would know their story, listen! When the gods make war, the Earth trembles. Stars fall from their fixed abodes and rain death upon the world. Glorious and fearful Ishtar came among us Ancient and cunning, Utnapishtim made his path known to us. If we did not have Gilgamesh to watch over us, where should we be? If the arm of Enkidu was not raised in our defence, should we not fall? If the wisdom of Ea had not spoken in our ears, would we still live? If the brightness of Aya had not been granted us, how could we see? Listen then, and hear their tale, people of Eridu. You who dwell between the waters, give me ear. I am Avram, the songsmith. What I saw, I tell. PROLOGUE The starship shuddered. Another bolt lashed through the ether and ripped at the ship's exposed flank. Somewhere a klaxon sounded, unheeded and unceasing. Smoke drifted through the darkened corridors. In the blood-red emergency lighting the creeping smoke was surreal, a living creature crawling towards the remnant of the crew. Hissing to herself in fury, she surveyed the scene in the control room through the dying eyes of the pilot. Struggling to obey her and to stay alive, he fought back the clutching fingers of death. The pain in his chest subsided, and he tried to reach the screens with his right hand. In a haze, he realized that he no longer had a right hand. Using his left he finally managed to hit the controls. "You cannot die yet!" Her command thundered through his fading brain. "Focus on the readings! Focus, damn you!" He finally forced his head to turn far enough to see the figures on the screen. Dimly, he knew that they meant that the shields about most of the craft had collapsed. Several sections had been gutted, and whoever had been in them had been either fried or sucked into the void. Their attacker had finished this pass, and was returning to make another. It would undoubtedly be the final one. Already the crippled starship was hanging together almost entirely through the force of her mind. "Imbeciles!" she screamed, and within their minds they all felt her contempt and fury - those that were still alive. She could sense no more than a dozen left to her now. In a spasm of rage she wrenched her mind away from the pilot, and felt him die. Normally she would have hovered nearby, licking mentally at his death- throes. Now there was no time to enjoy herself. In moments she, too, might be dead. She slipped into the mind of the navigator. He was still almost whole and began the scans that she had ordered. This far out from the hub of Mutters spiral there were very few possible havens for her. The figures scrolled upwards. Only one planet that could sustain humanoid life in the small sun system ahead of them. Not that she needed such an environment to live in, but her slaves would. The other worlds showed up as totally unsuitable for her purposes. No life of any kind. As for the third planet... She cursed at the results. Life, yes - but no intelligence! No radio waves, no radioactivity, no sign of industrialization! Useless, completely useless! The captain's panicked thoughts broke through her waves of fury, and she burrowed into his mind. He was once again becoming frantic with fear as their attacker swung about to begin the final assault - the barrage that they could never survive. She forced herself to become calm. Well, this third world would have to do.