Doctor Who BBCN17 - Sick Building (14 page)

It was only logical.

He kicked and struggled, but to no avail. If he freed himself, he would fall all the way back down the stairwell. He’d break his neck, surely. But right now, even that seemed preferable to where he and his mother were being taken.

It was only a matter of minutes before they reached a certain level.

The Sukkazz whooshed their captives down a sheer, circular tunnel.

No human member of the Tiermann household ever came down here.

They had no need to. This was where the rubbish was sent.

A circular door slid aside with great ceremony.

The Dust Chamber lay beyond. No gravity, no light. Just a sus-pended mass of floating particles.

A whole world of filth.

Amanda was waking and she was struggling too.

‘Take a deep breath! Fill your lungs!’

It was all Solin had time to say before he and his mother were flung bodily into the twilit chamber of dust.

97

TheoverrideroomwastheroomthathousedthecontrolsthatErnest Tiermann had hoped he would never have to use.

Why would he ever need to?

The Domovoi loved him. She adored him. She was his willing slave.

And she was his perfect wife. Even Tiermann’s human wife, Amanda, knew that. And she just had to give in to the disappointment of it. The Domovoi and the Dreamhome were what Ernest loved and trusted most in the whole world. Nothing could come between them.

Except. . . now that everything had gone haywire, the world was turned upside down. And everything had changed so quickly Tiermann could hardly fathom it.

Here he was, striding into the override room, with complete strangers right on his heels, as well as robots he had long ago dis-carded. And his wife and son were lost somewhere in the Dust Chamber. Perhaps he was already too late to save them.

But there was no time to think too much about it now.

They had just one very slim chance.

‘Is this it?’

The Doctor looked and sounded very disappointed with the override room.

99

Tiermann snarled: ‘Close the door behind you, robot. Quickly!’

Toaster was bringing up the rear, watchful for any more nasties sneaking up on them, now they were on Level Minus Twenty. He turned and slammed the metal door shut and then all five of their party – Tiermann, the Doctor, Martha, Barbara and Toaster – were crammed tightly into the tiny room.

‘It looks like a downstairs lav!’ the Doctor suddenly burst out laughing.

The lighting in the override room was red and Martha wondered what that reminded her of. Then it came to her: a submarine. Like in old war films, when something was going wrong. When they’d been torpedoed and water was gushing in and they were sinking slowly to the bottom of the ocean. Everyone’s faces were lit up red and black.

Not too far from the truth, she reflected. She had a very definite sinking feeling.

‘It has to be an inconspicuous room,’ Tiermann muttered. He was pressing a series of controls on the far wall, frowning and trying to remember the protocols. ‘Otherwise the Domovoi would have wanted to know what it was. As it is, I don’t think she ever suspected what these controls can do.’

The Doctor peered over his shoulder. ‘Do you want to stand there bragging about it, or do you want to get on with it?’ he asked, with a kind of jaunty menace. ‘I don’t have to remind you that your family’s lives depend on it.’

‘You’re right,’ Tiermann nodded. ‘This is it.’ He stabbed a few final buttons and a small, very ordinary panel slid upwards, to reveal a black switch.

‘Is that it?’ Martha said.

Tiermann nodded brusquely. ‘Push that and we put the Domovoi out of action.’

‘How long for?’ the Doctor asked. He couldn’t quite see past the square bulk of Barbara’s body. He wriggled slightly in order to see the controls, and in an attempt to get closer and maybe slam down the button himself. But, in the tiny room, he was wedged solid.

‘Not long,’ Tiermann admitted. ‘It won’t kill her. Or bring her to her 100

senses. Ten minutes? Twenty? It will disorient her. It’ll take a while for her to regain autonomy. But it should be long enough for us to get to the rooftop and the ship. I hope.’

The Doctor whistled through his teeth and quirked his eyebrows thoughtfully. ‘When you built that monstrous Domovoi, you certainly pulled out all the stops, Ernest. You can’t kill her, can you?’

‘Nothing can do that,’ Tiermann said, with a hint of pride.

‘Except the Voracious Craw,’ Martha pointed out. ‘And the Domovoi knows that. That’s why she’s gone bananas.’

‘Is that a medical diagnosis, Doctor Jones?’ said the Doctor.

Too right it is!’ Martha said. ‘Go on, Professor Tiermann. Push the button! Get us out of here!’ She, too, was in an awkward position in the room. Only Tiermann could get his hands on the vital control.

And it was torture, waiting for the old man to act.

They watched Tiermann’s hand dither over the control.

And then they were interrupted by a shriek from Barbara. It was as if the vending robot was in pain. Her electronic voice shattered the dusky red air and her companions jerked in shock, clutching their ears.

‘Barbara,’ the Doctor said, pressing closer to her. ‘What is it?’

He tried to touch her, to help her. But Barbara warned him back. He could only manage a single step backwards in the confined space. He was close enough to feel the tension and confusion bristling through Barbara’s circuits. She was swaying on her sturdy legs and clutching her glowing eyes. In the red light, no one could see the change that had overcome her, but it was obvious that something was terribly wrong.

‘Professor Tiermann, get away from the controls. . . ’ Barbara intoned. She was inching and teetering towards Tiermann. And suddenly her squat bulk seemed menacingly heavy. If she wanted to she could easily crush the life out of a softbody.

‘Barbara. . . ’ coaxed the Doctor. ‘What is it. . . ?’

‘She’s. . .

she’s. . .

reaching out to me, Doctor. . . ’

Barbara

squawked, in something closer to her own voice. ‘The Domovoi! She’s gained control of my. . . my mind!’

101

One of Barbara’s mechanical arms shot out and jabbed viciously at the wound in Tiermann’s side. He gave a great cry and collapsed to the metal floor. Barbara roared in triumph and turned to destroy the control panels that were the only hope of escape for the Doctor and his friends.

‘You will not override our will! You must stay here!’ Barbara’s voice was deepening in pitch. It was subsumed by the madness of the Domovoi herself. ‘You will die with us inside the Dreamhome!’

Solin knew that he and his mother couldn’t last very long in the Dust Chamber. Like him, his mother had covered her mouth and nose with her loose sleeves, and she was holding in her breath.

As the two of them wheeled and floated through the dusty, murky air they were both trying not to panic. Solin tried to suck air in without any of the dust, but could feel the dirty particles creeping into his body, and starting to line his throat. . .

The door had clanged shut behind them. Without an ounce of com-punction, the Sukkazz had locked them in. Would the Domovoi be happy now? Now that she knew they were stuck here for ever? They’d be dead, but they would be still at home, and that was all that mattered to the Domovoi.

Silently, despairingly, Solin cursed his father’s own creations.

All he could do was hope that the Doctor would do something. He had faith in Martha, and Martha believed in the Doctor.

Solin grasped his mother’s arm and started propelling them back towards the exit. It was like fighting their way through woolly fog. A horrible dry kind of mist that clung to them and coated them thickly.

They tried swimming through the air to the door. Perhaps he could find some way of opening it from the inside. . .

One thing was certain. Solin wasn’t giving up yet.

The Doctor came to stand right in front of Barbara.

He had dealt with this kind of situation before. ‘Barbara, I know you’re still in there,’ he said. ‘I know that the Domovoi can’t have taken complete control of your personality.’

102

He glanced around at the others. Martha and Toaster looked worried and horrified respectively. Tiermann was scrabbling to stand up, his wound seeping a curious mixture of oil and blood. If only the Doctor could keep Barbara talking. Surely he could inch around, slowly, slowly. . . he could distract her and get to the black override button.

He could dart forward and put the Domovoi out of action. . .

But Barbara was standing right in the way. She was powerful and rigid, with her hydraulic arms in the air, ready to lash out at anyone who stepped out of line. The Doctor knew she could fetch him a hefty slap. She could rip his head off, easy as blinking. He swallowed hard

– calculating distances, totting up his chances. He kept still. Still and careful. Ready to spring.

‘Barbara, please. Listen to me. I am the Doctor, remember. I came to save you. You and Toaster. I went all the way down to the bottom of the Dreamhome, and I brought you out safely. Will you really turn against me, Barbara?’

Barbara’s eyes were blazing with the sure manic frenzy of the Domovoi’s control. But something in her responded to the Doctor. They heard her electronic innards wheezing and clinking with dismay, and a kind of inner torment. ‘I can’t resist it, Doctor! She is telling me what to do! I must. . . destroy the override controls!’

‘Nonononono, Barbara!’ the Doctor gabbled. ‘You are your own woman! And you can make your own choices!’

‘Ch-choices?’ warbled the vending robot.

‘Choices!’ grinned the Doctor, manically. ‘You love choices, don’t you, Barbara! Of course you do! You’re a vending machine. You offer people choices all the time! That’s what you do! Crisps or pop?

Milk or dark chocolate? Diet or full fat? That’s what you’re all about!

Choices!’

‘Free will?’ she asked.

‘Exactly! And you’ve got to resist the Domovoi!’ The Doctor was moving closer to Barbara all the time, slowly but surely, convinced that he was winning her over. He was still wary of those powerful hands of hers, which flexed spasmodically. They were ready to crumple his skull like a drink can at any given moment.

103

Tiermann spoke up then, huskily, and almost ruined it all. ‘Barbara, the Doctor is right. Please. . . help us. Help me override the Domovoi.

Help me regain control of the Dreamhome, before it is too late. . . ’

‘You,’ Barbara grated crossly. ‘You have controlled too much, for too long. Ernest Tiermann. You are a tyrant! A monster!’

Tiermann drew himself painfully up to his full height. ‘I will not be addressed like that by a mere machine!’

‘Shut up!’ Martha yelled at him. ‘Can’t you see? You’re ruining it.’

Toaster shoved Tiermann back against the wall. ‘Let Barbara think.

Give her room. She’s being very brave. Standing up to the Domovoi.

She’s a brave girl. A very good girl. She won’t do us harm, will you, Barbara?’

‘Harm?’ said the vending robot. ‘Me? Cause harm. . . ?’

‘That’s right,’ said the Doctor, coaxingly. ‘You know we are your friends, don’t you?’

‘Doctor,’ said Barbara. ‘Your ship. You said you have a ship. You said that you would help us. Those of us whom Tiermann intends to abandon.’ She was squeezing out her words with a great effort.

Everything inside her was quivering with exertion.

‘Yes, my ship,’ the Doctor said, encouragingly. ‘The TARDIS! I’ll take you to the TARDIS! As many of you robots as I can. That’s what I’ll do. We can do it, Barbara! We can save the day! But. . . you have to trust me.’

‘Trust you, Doctor. . . ’ said Barbara hollowly.

‘I don’t blame you for not wanting to trust any softbody ever again,’

said the Doctor winningly. ‘But you must. You must do as I say. Switch off the Domovoi’s control. Just for as long as it takes for us to rescue the others and get out of the Dreamhome. Please, Barbara.’

‘Do it,’ Martha urged. ‘Do it for the Doctor! We’ll take you away from here. Away before the Voracious Craw gets here. . . ’

Barbara looked at them pleadingly. ‘You can really rescue us? You can take us to the safety of the spaceport Antelope Slash Nitelite?’

The Doctor nodded slowly. ‘I give you my solemn vow.’

Barbara’s metal hands quivered on the air. ‘I can do it! I can stop her!’

104

One hand slammed down on the black control button.

Everyone held their breath.

All around them, the air grew quieter and somehow less charged.

The energy went out of the place: that was the only way Martha could put it to herself. She looked at the others quizzically, ‘Has she done it?’

The Doctor nodded tersely, swiftly examining the instrument panels. ‘She’s shut down the Domovoi. Suspended her. The Domovoi has gone into shock.’

Tiermann was similarly checking out the controls. ‘This has never happened before. I can’t be exact. . . but we haven’t got long. A matter of minutes. And then the Domovoi will regain control of the Dreamhome. But. . . ’ And here his voice rose in triumph. ‘For now I am back in control! The Dreamhome is mine to command!’