Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (20 page)

‘I think I’ll stick with you,’ agreed Hoopy hurriedly. ‘We’re totally tight-knit.’

The Doctor turned to him. ‘Tell me, when you were dead, you were the only one not to fall prey to the Repulsion. Why do you think that was?’

‘I told you, scan me, I have not a clue about my person.’

‘So you were all alone in the corridor ending in blackness, and you heard some whispering…’

‘And the little girl.’

‘What little girl?’

‘It’s just come back to me. She was on the other side of the shadows.’

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, prompting Hoopy to continue.

‘And she was screaming. Something about how she didn’t dig being brought back to life like the others. She said she wanted to remain where she was.’

‘And you’ve only just remembered all this?’

Hoopy nodded apologetically.

‘Ah! I wonder,’ said the Doctor. ‘Romana mentioned… No never mind.’ He patted Hoopy’s head. ‘Come on!’

*

The Great Hall was deserted. As they passed each coffin Evadne glanced inside, fearful in case any undead remained. Connecting cables looped across the floor, sending out occasional sputters of sparks.

To one side of the chamber a short metal staircase led up to the remains of a door and a row of unlit windows. There was no sign of movement within.

‘Romana,’ whispered Evadne. ‘You and the Doctor. Are you really with Intergalactic Espionage?’

‘Who? No, we don’t actually work for anybody.’

‘Eh? So what do you do, then?’

‘Save planets, mostly.’

‘But what do you do when you’re not saving planets?’

‘To be honest, we don’t usually get time for anything else.’

As they approached the necroport, Evadne could hear a deep humming coming from beneath her feet. The corpse of a young man lay nearby, his face frozen in a comical gawp.

Set into an alcove on one side of the necroport, the entrance hatchway was open. Evadne waited for Romana to approach it first.

‘You really want to go back in there?’ Evadne asked dubiously.

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s perfectly safe,’ said Romana, and stepped inside.

The Doctor knew something was terribly wrong when he saw that the door to the control room was already open.

The window overlooking the Great Hall had been smashed. The barricade had collapsed, and the door was wide open.

‘Freak me,’ breathed Hoopy. ‘What went down here?’

‘A massacre.’

Bodies of the white-coated technicians were strewn across the floor, their eyes glassy with terror. The Doctor crouched down beside the corpse of a dark-skinned woman. Her hands were still clutched to her neck. Liesa.

‘The zombies did this?’ said Hoopy, his eyes revolving warily. ‘Totally tick the box marked “Ungroovy”.’

‘Yes.’ The Doctor straightened up. ‘“And death, once dead. There’s no more dying then,”’ he muttered. He surveyed the control room. One figure was conspicuous by its absence. ‘Where has that imbecile got to?’

‘Who?’

‘Harken Batt. I left him here.’

The Doctor popped his head through the doorway, and gazed down the metal stairwell into the Great Hall. There was no sign of anyone, be they living, dead or in between.

Walking back into the control room, he turned his attention to the necroport control panel. The power input dials were flickering, indicating a massive flow of energy. And the main control levers…

‘Oh dear.’ The Doctor was appalled.

‘What is it?’

‘Someone has turned the necroport back on.’

The inside of the necroport was shrouded in gloom, with only floor-level lamps to provide illumination. The bass hum of the machine was louder here.

‘Are you all right?’ The lights gave Romana’s skin an eerie pallor, her eyebrows forming crescent-shaped shadows.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Evadne, trying to sound confident. She followed Romana down the short corridor leading to the main chamber.

‘What the hell is that?’

A tall blue box stood impassively ahead of them, half-blocking the way into the main chamber. Reaching all the way to the ceiling, it appeared to be constructed from wood. Each face contained two windows, above which were the words
Police Public Call Box
. Whatever it was, it was in dismal condition; the ancient paintwork was battered and covered in chalk scuffs. It was like something a museum would throw out for making the place look untidy.

‘The TARDIS!’ exclaimed Romana. ‘I wonder what it’s doing here.’

‘It wasn’t here before,’ said Evadne.

‘No? How intriguing.’

Evadne traced her hand over the surface. It felt solid enough, but tingled. ‘What is it?’

‘Well, it’s a bit difficult to explain. It belongs to the Doctor –’

‘The Doctor?’ A figure emerged from the shadows. It was Paddox, a stubby laser pistol held in one hand. His quivering lips curled into the gloating smile of the insane. ‘You know the Doctor?’

Romana gave Evadne a worried glance. ‘Yes. And you might be?’

‘I am Paddox,’ he said in a voice he probably thought was charming.

‘Of course.’ Romana regarded their surroundings disdainfully. ‘This is all your work, isn’t it? I must say, you haven’t exactly done wonders with the décor. What do you think, Evadne, functionalist minimalism or minimalist functionalism?’

‘Silence.’ Paddox pointed the pistol at Evadne. ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

‘You may call me Romana, and this is my friend Evadne. As for what we’re doing here, well, that is a question I could very well ask you.’ She looked at him like he was a child who had presented her with a finger painting. ‘What are you doing here?’

Paddox blinked slowly. ‘You shall see,’ he said, gesturing for them to proceed into the chamber.

Metcalf climbed down the ladder and stood, puffing, in the escape capsule bay. A narrow, enclosed space, it was a forgotten corner of the original
Cerberus
. Inside one of the capsules, he would be safe and alone. He could emerge to take command once the disaster was over. Or, should circumstances deem it appropriate, eject himself to safety. Either would be agreeable.

The first two capsules had been ejected but the third remained, its hatch firmly shut. Metcalf pressed the entry control.

The hatch swung open. Inside sat a short, overweight man barely contained by a suit, tie and beach shorts. A holocamera rested on his lap.

‘Hello,’ grinned the tourist. ‘My name’s Jeremy.’

*

Paddox prodded Romana and Evadne into the main chamber at gunpoint. Romana led the way, her back straight.

The chamber itself was much as Romana remembered it. As before, three coffins were arranged against the far wall. On the opposite side of the chamber another doorway led into a room filled with twinkling lights and whirling computer reels.

‘Romana! You’re back! At last! I thought I was doomed to a desolate and desperate demise.’

There, standing just inside the entrance behind the TARDIS, was Harken Batt. His arms were shackled to the ducting above his head, causing his belly to bulge out of his coat. A holocamera lay at his feet.

‘Quick, get me out of here before that lunatic Paddox comes back –’ At that moment, Paddox stepped into his eyeline. ‘Oh. Help.’

‘Over by the wall, all of you,’ said Paddox briskly.

Romana strode towards the space next to Harken and whispered through the corner of her mouth: ‘What happened to you?’

‘You may very well ask, Romana,’ said Harken. ‘I did as you instructed, to the best of my abilities, but then, unfortunately, events rather overtook me. As it were.’ He struggled at his chains to illustrate the point.

‘Silence,’ said Paddox. Training the pistol on Romana, he backed towards a desk brimming with electronic equipment, and pressed some switches. The hum of the necroport surged to a higher intensity. Paddox checked the dials. ‘At last!’ he breathed. ‘At last. Finally there is sufficient power. The moment has arrived.’

‘What’s he doing?’ said Evadne to Romana.

‘I don’t know.’ Romana shushed her.

‘The culmination of my work,’ said Paddox. ‘The end of decades of research and experimentation. The end of years of waiting, anticipating.’ He turned to face them, his eyes glistening maniacally. ‘Success is now within my grasp! The process can begin!’

He collected some chains from the floor and approached Romana. He looked at her with unfettered loathing. ‘You don’t realise, do you? You cannot possibly comprehend what I have accomplished.’

Romana didn’t blink. ‘Try me.’

Paddox spoke, quietly and calmly. ‘I shall have redemption.’ He rose to his theme. ‘You shall observe the greatest scientific achievement of all time.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ said Romana. ‘I’ve seen quite a few scientific achievements. What makes you think yours is particularly great?’

Paddox waved his pistol casually at her head.

‘On the other hand,’ said Romana, without missing a beat. ‘I’m sure that, as scientific achievements of all time go, yours will be the greatest I have ever seen.’

The room was suddenly filled with a brilliant, pulsing light, and the occupants of the three coffins became visible.

The ones on the left and right contained two creatures, humanoid in shape but otherwise vegetable. Their skin was green and thin to the point of transparency, the network of capillaries visible beneath its surface. Their heads were like budding orchids, their necks hidden by a frill of membranes.

The creature on the right was slighter in build, its skin tinged with brown. Romana guessed she was the female of the species, and the younger-looking creature on the left was the male.

Both lay perfectly still, their eyes closed in death. The occupant of the middle coffin, incongruous in its oatmeal coat and multicoloured scarf, was similarly devoid of life.

‘The Doctor!’ exclaimed Romana.

The Doctor lay with his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a solemn mask. His eyes were shut, as if in concentration. He was not breathing, not making a movement of any kind. One of the wire-mesh helmets encased his head; similar headsets were fitted to both of the plant creatures.

With a start, Romana remembered her previous visit to the necroport. The three coffins, each containing corpses burned beyond recognition. She recognised the male creature – it was the one that had spoken to the Doctor. Evadne had said his name: Gallura.

Romana hadn’t examined the human-shaped block of charcoal in the middle coffin. But it had been lying exactly where the Doctor was now.

‘Is he dead?’ asked Evadne.

No, it wasn’t possible, Romana decided. The Doctor was bluffing, planning to wake up at the last minute. That would be so typical of him, to fake his own death to give himself an advantage over the opposition. She ran over to his coffin.

‘Keep back!’ yelled Paddox. ‘Back, against the wall!’

Romana ignored him. She pressed her head against either side of the Doctor’s chest, checking for a heartbeat. But there was nothing. She felt for a pulse. Nothing.

Of course, Time Lords could stop their hearts beating for a short time, and enter a state of suspended animation. It was something she had been taught at the academy as a method of surviving extreme environments. But even during that state, there were subtle life signs that were detectable to other Time Lords.

But this time, there were none.

Romana pulled back, her hand to her forehead. She screwed her eyes shut and inhaled slowly.

‘What is it?’ asked Evadne.

Romana shook her head, and wiped an eye. She turned to face Evadne, her face crumpling.

‘The Doctor is dead.’

C
HAPTER
T
EN

CAPTAIN ROCHFORT, A
serious-looking, clean-cut man in his fifties, strode confidently into the control room of the
Cerberus
. In keeping with the ship’s luxurious design, the flight deck was a combination of state-of-the-art instrumentation and nouveau-antiquarian decoration; a bank of twinkling lights was set into a polished desk, the walls were oak-panelled, the quasar-precision chronometer was gold-lined. Two windows looked out on to the star-speckled void of space; unusually, this was the aft view. All the forward-facing areas of the ship had been assigned as platinum-star cabin space, so the control room was situated at the ship’s stern.

One of the two high-backed chairs swung round. ‘Preparations for departure completed, sir,’ announced Lieutenant Byson, a fresh-faced and earnest man, twenty years Rochfort’s junior. He wore a blue uniform, complete with gold braid. ‘I hope the dinner dance went well.’

Rochfort eased himself into the seat next to Byson, and surveyed the controls.

‘Excellent. We may be able to leave early and avoid some of the traffic.’ He smiled. ‘Being captain of a luxury-class cruiser does afford certain advantages with the weaker gender.’

Byson laughed. Three months he had been ship’s lieutenant, and during that time he had never avoided an opportunity to ingratiate himself with his superior. Rochfort approved: he had spent thirty years working his way up the ranks and deserved a little flattery. ‘You old devil, sir.’

‘Not so much of the old,’ said Rochfort, and laughed the modest laugh of the deeply arrogant. ‘ERIC?’

>
Hi there, Captain. May I just say how great it is to be working with you, and how enthusiastic I am about our forthcoming voyage
.

‘It’s only a standard interstellar run, you moronic machine,’ said Rochfort. ‘Give me a traffic report.’

>
Sure will
, said ERIC cheerfully. >
Traffic control reports that passage through the Teredekethon–Murgatroyd tunnel is heavily congested, with tailbacks on some incoming hyperspatial routes. Build-ups are expected with some delays to outbound traffic so please allow plenty of time for your journey
.

‘Sounds like we’d better get a move on, sir,’ said Byson.

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Rochfort yawned, stretching his arms. ‘Give me a status check on the passengers.’

>
Nothing would give me greater pleasure
, said ERIC. >
Hey, I’ve got good news. The final passengers are coming aboard now, and you know, they seem like really nice guys
!