Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (16 page)

Romana had to run to catch up with him. ‘To do what?’

The Doctor unlocked the door. ‘You’ll find out in the fullness of time. Hopefully. Sorry, must dash. Goodbye.’ He smiled apologetically, ducked into the TARDIS and slammed the door behind him.

‘Doctor!’ shouted Romana indignantly. She reached for the door –

The light on top of the TARDIS flashed and, with a grinding sound, it dematerialised, leaving her clutching at thin air.

The half-light returned to the Great Hall. Harken immediately starting searching across the floor for the holocamera.

‘Harken,’ said Vinnie beside him. ‘The bodies. Look at them.’

Harken peered into the gloom. The hundreds of bodies were lying motionless in their caskets. No, not motionless. Fingers twitched and stretched. The occupant of the nearest coffin raised his arms and lifted himself free of the head apparatus. One by one, the occupants of the other coffins followed suit, sitting upright and unplugging themselves. Their limbs jerked awkwardly and were twisted at grotesque angles.

The first thing that struck Harken was how black their eyes seemed. The next thing he noticed was that although his breath was frosting in the cold atmosphere, the people emerging from their coffins were not creating any vapour. They were not breathing at all.

The tourists clambered out of their coffins. There were hundreds of them, their bodies twitching, their mouths gaping open, oily drool slavering over their lips. More tourists lurched their way along the access platforms.

The third thing Harken noticed was that their skin was deathly white, all the colour drained from their bodies.

The tourists gathered around him and Vinnie, their bodies hunched. Heads hanging lifelessly on their shoulders, they shuffled forward.

*

Liesa gasped in horror. ‘Doctor. The life monitors.’

The Doctor cast his gaze over the electrocardiograms. It was as he had expected. Every life monitor showed a single horizontal green line. There was absolutely no change in any of the readings.

‘They’re all dead,’ Liesa screamed. ‘They’re all still dead!’

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

‘THEY’RE ALL STILL
dead!’

The undead had formed a half-circle around Harken and Vinnie. The human tourists had faces as white as chalk, their mouths and eyes weeping gummy black liquid. Their hands formed into claws, tearing at the air.

The midget Gonzies swayed forward, their spines extended. The Yetraxxi’s long necks reeled to and fro as they advanced.

Harken and Vinnie backed away. Behind them loomed the bulk of the necroport.

‘Well, Vinnie,’ said Harken between chattering teeth. ‘I think we’re going to die.’

Vinnie stared at him incredulously. ‘Yeah, thanks for that, Harken.’

‘When you’ve been in the business as long as I have, you tend to spot these things.’ Harken tried to take another step backwards, but pressed against the cold metal of the necroport. It was no good. The zombies had them surrounded.

Vinnie gave Harken a final look, and then swung himself on to the platform. The crowd of zombies clamoured around him, their hands snatching at his legs. More of the undead clambered up the steps, leering at him hungrily.

One of the zombies reached him and clamped its hands around his throat. As he screamed and struggled more zombies attacked, slashing at his clothes. His scream became a gurgle and then fell silent as the first zombie wrenched his head to one side. Vinnie slumped to the floor.

The zombies hissed and turned their attention back to Harken.

Flattened against the necroport, he closed his eyes and crossed himself. So this would be how it all ended, ravaged limb from limb by undead tourists. He imagined the obituary on the news. The announcer’s voice would adopt a serious tone as clips of his documentaries were showreeled. And then
The Guilty Conscience
would be mentioned. Even in death, he would be humiliated.

Harken emptied his lungs into a scream. ‘Help me! Will somebody please help me!’

The Doctor turned away from the Great Hall, scratched his cheek and faced Liesa gloomily.

‘Reanimation. An artificial reactivation of the central nervous system in a trance-like state.’ The Doctor’s tone was bleak. ‘A form of externally induced sleepwalking, if you like, similar to hypnosis. The subjects retain basic motor functions, despite left cerebral hemispheric death, and are… well, transformed into the walking dead.’

‘They’re zombies?’

The Doctor nodded. ‘To all intents and purposes, I’m afraid, yes.’

‘But wait a moment,’ said Liesa. ‘You said it was externally induced. You mean someone’s controlling them?’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the Doctor, his eyes popping. ‘Or something.’

‘But how?’

‘The necroport, perhaps. Acting as a channel, like a radio transmitter, amplifying and sending out instructions. But where the orders are coming from, I don’t know.’

Liesa shook her head. ‘The whole thing should be impossible.’

‘Impossible? You operate a machine that gives people guided tours of the afterlife and you think this…’ He indicated the massed zombies, ‘… should be impossible?’

Liesa looked over the necroport controls. The dials pulsed regularly. A horrible thought occurred to her.

‘Doctor,’ she said.

‘Yes?’

‘The tourists are being controlled through the necroport, right?

‘Yes.’

‘And we control the necroport in here.’

‘Yes. Ah. I see your point. They might want to pay us a visit.’ The Doctor clapped a hand to his mouth and peered through the window.

In the Great Hall the zombies were separating into two groups. The majority poured towards the main doors, but twenty or so were climbing up the stairwell towards them.

The Doctor exploded into action, gathering the technicians around him. ‘Listen. We need to build a barricade. Use anything you can, bits of computer, anything. We have to keep the zombies out.’ The technicians scattered throughout the room and began dismantling the wreckage. Two of them grabbed a desk, pushed it against the door and then started piling monitors and chairs against it.

Liesa, meanwhile, started levering at a bank of instruments. It was bolted to the wall, and she rattled it in frustration.

‘K-9,’ said the Doctor. ‘Can you burn that free?’

‘Affirmative, master.’ A beam extended from the robot dog’s snout and smouldered through the brackets.

Liesa heaved the instruments over to the barricade and stacked them on the top of the heap.

The Doctor inspected the barrier. ‘It should contain them,’ he announced. ‘For a while. I hope.’

‘And then we use K-9’s laser to hold them off,’ suggested Liesa.

‘Ah. Well, historically speaking, K-9 hasn’t got a very good record on holding things off, have you K-9?’

‘Affirmative.’ K-9’s head drooped.

‘Now, now.’ The Doctor patted K-9. ‘I’ve a much more important job for you anyway. Can you locate Paddox’s psychospoor trail?’

K-9 extended his probe and completed a full circle. ‘Affirmative master. Psychospoor trail located.’

‘His what trail?’ muttered Liesa.

‘Good. Right, K-9, I want you to sniff out old slyboots Paddox, and find out what he’s up to.’

‘Detection process does not require olfactory perception,’ K-9 said primly. ‘Commencing pursuit.’ He glided across the control room and out of the left door.

The Doctor secured it shut behind him and checked the other door. ‘Right. Now no one can get in.’

‘Or out,’ added Liesa.

‘Exactly.’ The Doctor grinned and raised his head to address the ceiling. ‘ERIC? Are you still with us?’

> Unfortunately, yes
.

‘Wonderful,’ said the Doctor. ‘Keep an eye on the approaching corridors for us and let us know if any zombies are coming, will you?’

> I shall do so. Syntax error. For you, Doctor
.

The Doctor waved an encouraging fist and directed his attention back to the controls. His wide eyes surveyed the flickering dials, searching for some clue. He rubbed his lips. ‘Right. Now. Everything has been deactivated. So where is it getting its power from? And what’s it all for?’

‘Doctor!’ There was a thudding on the door to the Great Hall. The barricade was holding, but shook under the repeated pounding by the zombies.

Romana stood in the corner of the observation lounge where the TARDIS had been. The Doctor had gone, abandoning her. That was assuming it was really the Doctor. Perhaps there was an imposter running around; it would certainly explain why Metcalf was convinced the Doctor was a saboteur.

‘Romana?’ said a familiar female voice.

Romana lifted her head. It was Evadne.

Evadne stared at her in delight. ‘It’s you! I do not believe it. What are you doing here?’

‘What?’ said Romana, taken aback. ‘You know who I am?’

‘Oh yeah.’ Evadne tapped her nose confidentially. ‘You and the Doctor. Intergalactic Espionage, say no more. What happened to him, by the way?’

Romana brushed aside her hair and regained her composure. ‘The Doctor? Oh, I lost him somewhere. He’s always wandering off and getting himself into trouble, leaving it to me to rescue him.’ She whispered: ‘Where did you see him last?’

‘In the necroport, remember? We were investigating, and then the Doctor told me to get out, too dangerous or something. So I did. I sneaked out of the Great Hall, and here I am.’ She frowned. ‘You were in there with him. Come to think of it, it was your idea we went there. How did you get out, anyway?’

‘Of course,’ breathed Romana. ‘The time factor.’ They had left the TARDIS in the
Montressor
, and she had seen the TARDIS here. Two different landing sites. Two separate visits. ‘At some point in our future, we go back in time and visit the G-Lock yet again. That’s the only possible explanation.’

A disturbing question posed itself. If there were two Doctors running around, there should also have be two Romanas. So what had happened to her? What was it Evadne had just said? There had been some sort of danger in the necroport…

Romana couldn’t stop herself following the train of logic. The Doctor had been told that he would die on the G-Lock. But no one had said what had happened to her. What if she was going to die before the Doctor? That would explain why he had left in the TARDIS without her. He had left because she was already dead. Killed by something in the necroport.

‘Hang on,’ said Evadne. ‘What do you mean, “go back in time”? I don’t understand.’

Romana put on a carefree smile. ‘I’ll explain later.’

The zombies continued to hurl themselves against the door, the barrier rocking under the repeated impacts. More of the undead scraped at the windows, smearing their mouths against the glass. The Doctor was darting frantically over the control panel.

‘Think, Doctor, think!’ He slapped his forehead, but it didn’t help.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Liesa.

‘Whatever is directing the zombies is trying to get them in
here
, right? Which means one of two things. Either they’re trying to control the necroport, which doesn’t make sense, because it’s running full guns already. Or…’

‘Or?’

‘Or they’re trying to prevent us from doing something,’ said the Doctor. ‘I wish I knew what it was.’

Liesa broached another subject. ‘Doctor. Do you think Paddox had any idea this would happen?’

‘No. The forces we’re dealing with here are beyond his understanding. Beyond anyone’s understanding.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘Paddox. Tell me about him.’

‘What about him?’

‘Liesa, I think the necroport was always designed to do far more than just treat people to the Beautiful Death. I don’t know what it was that Paddox was trying to achieve, but whatever it was his actions have caused something infinitely terrible to be unleashed. If I had a clue as to what he was trying to do, it might give us some idea of what we’re up against.’

Liesa swallowed. ‘I’ve known him for about six months. I was given my position when he moved the necroport project to the G-Lock. It seemed like a platinum opportunity, to work with the galaxy’s leading necrologist.’

‘Necrology.’ The Doctor stared into the otherworldly distance. ‘The study of the processes of death.’

‘Exactly. And the necroport … well, it’s the crowning achievement of his research. He’s been developing it in secret for decades.’

‘But no one but Paddox is allowed to operate it.’

‘Correct. He goes in there an hour before the Beautiful Death starts. Making preparations, he says. And then he goes back in there the moment we’ve resurrected all of the subjects.’

‘Aah,’ said the Doctor after several seconds. ‘So perhaps that’s where he’s gone now? Except of course he can’t because…’ He thumped his palm. ‘Of course! That’s what the zombies’ game is. It’s obvious.’

Liesa loosened her collar. ‘It is?’

‘They’re trying to prevent anyone from going near the necroport! The zombies are attempting to get in here, yes, but not because they want to reach the controls. They’re trying to get in here because whatever is controlling them wants to make sure that we don’t go in there.’ The Doctor pointed at the necroport.

K-9 whirred down the corridor. Sensor analysis of Paddox’s psychospoor trail indicated that he had passed this way 104 seconds previously. The procedure was analogous to scent tracking, so the Doctor’s instruction had been understandable, if irritatingly imprecise in its vocabulary usage.

A group of tourists appeared at the far end of the corridor. Like the Doctor master, they had adopted clothing on the basis of aesthetic diversity rather than functionality. Their eyes were issuing saline fluid, a human indication of trauma.

K-9 remained motionless as they hurried past him, their cloak tails flapping into his eyes. The humans were obviously fleeing from an aggressor; the logical candidate being the reanimated dead. Sensors confirmed this inference – the undead were in the vicinity.

Records of previous encounters with similar organisms suggested only limited effectiveness of defensive systems. K-9’s internal warning systems activated. ‘Non-animate life forms gaining proximity. Sensors indicate threat to this unit.’