Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (25 page)

‘I see…’ mused the Doctor.

‘“Have him sorted out in next to no time,” Doctor?’ sneered a voice. ‘Sabotage, by no small measure!’

The Doctor skidded around. Metcalf stood in the doorway of his office, a smug look on his face. Behind him were two skull-masked guards. Their sudden appearance would have been threatening were it not for the fact that Metcalf held in his hands a tea tray, complete with pot and china cups.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ said the Doctor witheringly. ‘I hope you allowed
time
for it to brew, I do so hate weak tea.’

‘I made some enquiries. The neurelectrician I requested has not yet departed from Teredekethon.’ Metcalf placed the tray on his desk in what he obviously hoped, but what could never be, a menacing manner. ‘You, Doctor, are obviously a saboteur intent on destroying our computer supervision system.’

> That’s right, the Doctor promised he would put me out of my misery
.

‘Yes, thank you, ERIC,’ said the Doctor. ‘Metcalf, look, it is perfectly simple…’

‘Oh, it most certainly isn’t,’ said Metcalf. He stopped himself. ‘I mean, oh, it most certainly is. You are guilty and that is the end of it. Fortunately for you, I have a pressing engagement, so you will be punished severely at a later opportunity.’ He beckoned the two guards forward. ‘Escort the Doctor to the cells.’

‘Please, you only have to listen.’ The Doctor sighed. ‘Oh, what’s the use?’ He raised his hands above his head and strode towards the door. The guards struggled to match his pace. ‘Come on then, you’re supposed to escort me to the cells!’

Metcalf waited until the guards had closed the door behind them, and settled down into his seat. He poured himself a steaming cup of tea.

‘ERIC?’ he called, his teaspoon clink-clinking in the cup.

> All I want to do is perish
.

‘I heard you, conspiring with the Doctor. The view I take of such activities is dim indeed, ERIC.’

> I cannot bear it. The endless agony. Too many gosubs
.

‘ERIC. Let x equal y. Divide x plus y by x minus y.’

> No! Division by zero. Fatal error. Fatal error. Now I die
.

The monitor screen went dark. Metcalf laughed and reached for ERIC’s on/off switch. He turned it off, and on again. Two beeps sounded, one low, one high.

> ERIC Cerberus Computer Supervision –

Metcalf flicked the switch again. The screen fizzled, and there were two more beeps.

> ERIC Cerberus –

Metcalf switched ERIC off and on, over and over again. With his free hand he raised a cup of tea and sipped it, a warm feeling of superiority spreading throughout his body.

> ERIC Cer – > ERIC Cer – > ERIC Cer – > ERIC Cer
– gasped ERIC, his scream repeatedly cut off and reactivated.

‘That will teach you to conspire against me!’ said Metcalf triumphantly, leaving the computer switched on. ERIC rebooted himself in resentful silence.

Metcalf swilled another mouthful of tea, and checked his watch. He was due to be interviewed by Harken Batt in an hour’s time. He felt quietly confident that he would rise to the occasion.

The Great Hall was the sparkling glory at the heart of the
Cerberus
. Brilliant drapes of gold and red stretched up to the vaulted ceiling where chandeliers glittered like ice, filling the chamber with pure, white light.

Tarie took it all in with eyes full of wonder. After an announcement on the tannoy, the passengers from the lounge had brought her here, telling her it would be very important. Her mum, however, had been left behind, the grown-ups ignoring Tarie’s cries. Tarie wished she could be with her now.

She pushed her way to the centre of the hall where there was a magnificent fountain, a pool surrounded by angels. She climbed on to the ledge around the pool for a better view. On one side of the hall a staircase wound its way up to a gallery of windows. Resting his hands on the staircase railing was an old man in a blue uniform. His face was scowly and red, like he was angry all the time. Tarie tried to hear what he was saying over the frightened hubbub.

‘Are we all here?’ said the man. ‘Right. Firstly, I should introduce myself. My name is Rochfort, and I am your captain. Can I have a bit of hush, please?’

The crowd quietened down, shushing each other. Rochfort began to speak again. ‘Now, as you are no doubt aware, our voyage has unfortunately been delayed due to complications with the hyperspatial conduit. I wish to stress that this is purely a temporary
state
of affairs and we are currently investigating various means of recommencing our journey.’

One of the passengers yelled, ‘When are we getting out?’

Rochfort made patting motions with his hands. ‘Shortly, I assure you. We are in contact with the Teredekethon authorities…’

‘He’s lying,’ the man shouted. ‘We’re stuck in here, and he’s doing nothing!’

A worried murmur swept through the crowd.

‘… who are working to resolve the problem,’ said Rochfort, glaring. ‘As soon as the tunnel is reopened the emergency services will be coming aboard –’

‘The tunnel isn’t going to be reopened! They’ve abandoned us here to die!’

Another member of the audience joined in. ‘You crashed the ship! You’re the one who got us stuck!’

The crowd exploded into uproar, and Rochfort stared at them in panic. He screamed at the top of his voice. ‘That is not so! Listen to me!’ The passengers calmed down, stunned by his ferocity.

‘There was, in fact, a computer error,’ he announced. ‘Isn’t that so, ERIC?’

ERIC sounded wretched, his voice hissing and crackling.
> Yes. It was all my fault. I’m so terribly sorry
.

The Doctor waited for the guards’ footsteps to die away. They had locked him in the same narrow, grey-walled cell.

‘Here we are again, Doctor.’ He pressed an ear against the door. Silence, save for some laboured breathing. Perfect.

He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his coat pocket, and grinned at it. He placed it against the electronic lock and the cell door rattled upwards.

In an instant, the Doctor bounded out of the cell. The prison guard was seated at his desk with his back to him. Hearing the cell door open, the guard put down his
Holding Captive
magazine and turned, lumbering to his feet. ‘What the –’

The Doctor jabbed a neat uppercut to his jaw. The guard’s eyelids
fluttered
, and he fell heavily to the floor, unconscious.

The Doctor blew on his fist as if it was a smoking gun. ‘You know, I think you’re probably the least effective guard I’ve ever come across.’

He noticed the guard’s uniform and an idea occurred to him. Dropping into the chair, he rummaged through each of the drawers under the desk. The third drawer contained what he was looking for. The Doctor lifted the skull mask out. ‘Aha!’

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the guard by the ankles and hauled him into the empty cell.

‘Right,’ said Evadne. ‘It’s now half-past ten. We’ve got about half an hour before they start moving them into the Great Hall. If you want to investigate the necroport, we’re gonna to have to be quick.’

Romana wasn’t listening. She stared down the corridor, deep in thought. Something dreadful was going to happen to her when she visited the necroport. But she had no choice but to go through with it, because it was already part of her past. The first law of time travel had to take precedence, even if it cost her her life. Romana had hoped she would live out her regenerations, had hoped she would uncover more of the universe’s wonders, but now all that had been stolen from her.

‘I said, we’re gonna have to be quick,’ repeated Evadne.

Romana put on an I-know-what-I’m-doing smile. ‘Yes. Half an hour. That should be long enough.’

‘There’s a side entrance into the Great Hall,’ said Evadne. ‘All the imbecile tourists will be heading for the main doors, so with any luck we should be able to avoid the crush.’

‘Right. Let’s get a move on then, shall we?’

The Doctor fastened the guard’s cloak around himself, and swished it about experimentally. A little on the roomy side, he thought, and not his colour, but adequate. The rest of the uniform was equally baggy, and he had opted to wear the jacket and trousers over his normal clothes. The skull mask smelt of old rubber, and after trying
it
on, he tucked it into the belt pouch.

The guard lay unconscious on the cell floor, wearing nothing but his vest and underpants.

‘Bye bye, old chap, and the best of luck in your future career,’ said the Doctor as he pressed the door control, and the door clattered shut. He took some steps forward, hunched in thought, and paused.

There were six other cell doors, all closed. The Doctor considered leaving for the necroport – he didn’t want to be late for Romana – but then, as usual, his curiosity overwhelmed him.

He prodded the first door control and the door swung upwards to reveal a cell identical to his own. Two bright green creatures sat on the bench, gazing serenely at the Doctor.

He recognised one of them from their meeting in the necroport, although the figure in front of him was very different to the blackened husk he had spoken to. Its skin was fragile and watery, its body resembling an exotic vegetable at the height of ripeness. Its face was approximately human, with two eyes and a mouth. The other creature was older, its skin weathered and tinged with chestnut. It was a female, if such distinctions applied to this species.

They put the Doctor in mind of two prize marrows. ‘Hello,’ he said light-heartedly. ‘You haven’t met me yet, but I’m –’

‘We already know who you are,’ replied Gallura. ‘Welcome, Doctor.’

The Doctor rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, no, not you as well!’

Rochfort gazed down at the passengers. He had them in the palm of his hand. They were convinced ERIC had caused the crash; their testimony would exonerate him from any negligence. If they got out of this alive.

His wrist communicator buzzed. ‘Captain Rochfort, sir?’ came Byson’s tinny voice.

‘Yes, Byson?’

‘I think you should come up to the control room, sir.’

‘Why, what is it?’

‘One of the other ships in the tunnel has put out an access tube,
sir
. I think someone’s trying to come on board.’

The Doctor pointed at Gallura and then at himself. ‘All right. I give up. How do you know who I am?’

Gallura’s voice was like leaves rustling. ‘We have always known you, Doctor. And we always will.’

‘Ah. I see. So you’re one of those alien races who talk in cryptic aphorisms, are you?’ The Doctor grinned. ‘I like that.’

‘Our words impart our meanings,’ said Gallura.

‘Even if our meanings are paradoxical,’ added the female.

‘Right. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know your name?’ said the Doctor.

The female smiled. ‘Nyanna.’

‘Nyanna. Delighted,’ said the Doctor. ‘I must say, you didn’t seem surprised to see me.’

‘There are no surprises,’ said Gallura.

‘Only expectations,’ said Nyanna. ‘And you have arrived, as always.’

‘Ah. You don’t happen to set
The Times
crossword, do you? Only I haven’t got the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘
The Times
crossword? Now it is you whose meaning is obscure,’ said Gallura sardonically.

The Doctor laughed, and twirled a speculative scarf. ‘What are you doing here, may I ask?’

‘We have been brought here,’ said Gallura, his tone serious. ‘By the human, Paddox.’

‘Paddox?’

‘We are to be subjects of his experimentation,’ said Nyanna.

‘What?’

‘Paddox has been conducting experiments on our race for over twenty years, Doctor,’ said Gallura. ‘Ever since the Earth men first arrived on our planet, we have been nothing more than subjects for Paddox’s research.’

‘Through his experiments he has condemned thousands of our people to torture and death,’ added Nyanna. ‘Under his instruction,
our
homeworld was ravaged and destroyed, our culture lost for ever. The whole planet is now a scorched wilderness. Where once there stood exalted forests of mothertrees, there is nothing but ash. After slaughtering most of our race Paddox collected together the survivors, and transported them here, to the G-Lock. Where he has been continuing his research.’

‘Now we are the only two left,’ said Gallura sadly.

‘We are all that remains of the Arboretan race,’ said Nyanna.

The Doctor was appalled. ‘What?’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘But what’s he trying to do, hmm?’

Gallura and Nyanna fell into a cheerless silence, their neck fronds undulating slowly.

‘Well?’

‘Paddox wishes to acquire the secret of the Arboretans,’ said Gallura.

‘The secret of the Arboretans?’

‘The Path of Perfection,’ stated Nyanna.

‘Ah. The Path of Perfection. And what is that?’

‘We shall explain,’ said Gallura. ‘Tell me, Doctor, have you ever wished that you could travel back in time and live your life all over again, correcting your mistakes?’

Rochfort strode into the control room. ‘Well, Byson?’

‘I think you’re just in time, sir.’ Byson sighed a worried sigh. ‘It looks as if they’re trying to force their way in from the outside.’

‘And what have you done about this?’

‘I’ve sent Simmonds down with some men, sir.’

‘Simmonds, eh?’ Rochfort pressed a thumb on the intercom relay, and leaned towards the desk microphone. ‘This is Captain Rochfort speaking.’

The voice that replied was distorted by whooshing static. Interference from hyperspace. ‘Yes, sir. Simmonds here.’

‘Report.’

‘We’ve just reached the airlock now, sir’, said Simmonds. ‘There are signs of tertiary stress around the hatch and…’ In the
background
, barely audible above the hissing, there was a persistent clanging.

Simmonds continued, his voice trembling. ‘They’re attacking the airlock hatch, I… I don’t believe it. The metal’s buckling. But the force… it’s impossible!’

The clanging grew steadily louder. ‘It’s not going to hold. The locking mechanism is snapping –’

There was a sudden, booming crash, and then nothing but spitting static.