Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (5 page)

‘Affirmative,’ said K-9 happily.

‘Why do you think this hyperspace tunnel is about to collapse?’

‘That information is unavailable.’

‘Useless machine,’ the Doctor snorted, and gave K-9 a kick.

Romana swallowed. ‘Doctor, if what K-9 says is true, then everyone here is in the most terrible danger.’

The Doctor awoke to action. ‘Yes, of course. K-9, how long do we have until this “loss of viability”?’

‘Approximately four hours seventeen minutes. Master, although I am unable to divulge the source of my information, I can lead you to the hyperspace–real-space interface, where you will be able to verify my assertion.’

The Doctor regarded K-9 down a suspicious nose. ‘You know where the geostatic build-up is located?’

‘Affirmative. Corridor 79.’

‘Well, I think I shall have to go and see this.’ The Doctor took Romana to one side. ‘And if he turns out to be correct… well, I don’t know what we’ll do, but we’ll do something. Coming?’

Romana glanced around the medical bay. As the beds ran out, mattresses were being unrolled on to the floor and filled by more of the injured. Survivors had also started to gather uncertainly on the fringes of the ward, blocking the trolleys and adding to the
chaos
. Parents cuddled their shrieking children. There was a sense of desperation in the air.

‘I’ll wait here,’ she decided. ‘These people need our help.’

‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’ The Doctor strode out of the medical bay, K-9 at his heels. Romana watched them go and then turned back to the lizard. She lifted its kaftan to reveal a deep, grisly burn.

She replaced the fabric and dodged across the ward to the supplies unit, a bank of cubicles along one wall. She collected some vacuum-sealed bags of dressings but found the cubicle marked
Anaesthetics and Analgesics
empty.

She turned to the nearest medic, the bearded man she had spoken to earlier. He was hoisting one of the milky creatures to a sitting position. ‘Where are the rest of the painkillers?’

‘They’ve all gone.’

‘What?’ said Romana angrily.

‘We’ve exhausted all the supplies.’ The man shrugged, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. ‘The number of casualties is too great, we can’t cope. The situation is critical.’

Rige unclipped a small device from his utility belt and reviewed its reading.

‘I’m getting a positive ID, Dunkal.’ He pointed the tracker down the corridor. ‘This way.’

‘Give me a moment, Rige,’ heaved Dunkal. He leaned back against a column. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. He couldn’t run more than twenty metres without getting a stitch. Drinking cheap coffee, slamming his fist on desks and roughing up suspects against fenders; that was more his style. Not running around a grotty space station in the middle of nowhere. He dabbed at his forehead. ‘Now I know why they call it hot pursuit.’

‘They’re evading capture, sir,’ Rige reminded him.

‘All right, all right,’ said Dunkal and, with some effort, pushed himself upright. He would reward himself with a cigarette later.

‘No rest for the justice. Let’s get on with it, then.’

*

The lizard watched Romana unwrap the burn dressings. It had been supplied with water and was now propped up on its side, a picture of bemusement.

‘Now, this may hurt.’ Romana raised the lizard’s cloak and applied the dressings, squeezing them on to the open wounds. A medic mopped up the seeping juices.

‘Aah! Freak me!’ shrieked the lizard. ‘Totally ungroovy! This is beyond agony – this is agony two, the sequel!’

Romana drew back. ‘I’m being as gentle as I can.’

‘Everything’s gone all soft focus and swimmy,’ whimpered the lizard. ‘Can’t you administer me a shot of the old mellow medicine? Just a little something to smooth off the corners?’

Romana shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, there’s no painkillers left. We’re doing what we can, but…’

The creature slumped back on to its pillow. ‘Painkillers.
Indigo Glow
.’

‘What?’

‘The
Indigo Glow
. My spacehopper,’ confided the lizard. ‘The interplanetary supernova convertible parked out on docking bay two. Shark-red exhaust trim. There’s all the “painkillers” you’ll ever need on board.’

‘You have anaesthetics? Drugs?’

The lizard smiled to itself. ‘It is a fully equipped medicine wagon. Anaesthetics, cardiothetrics, psychogens. Placators, dilators and hallucinators. Uppers, downers and in-betweeners. Glycerat, Novovacuous. A pill for every chill.’

‘You certainly came well stocked,’ Romana remarked.

‘“Be prepared” is the motto.’ The lizard rummaged beneath its kaftan and presented Romana with a small ident key. ‘Check out the cabin stow-locker. You’ll find enough painkillers to knock out an alabast elephosaur.’

Romana turned the key over in her fingers. If she left for the hopper now, she thought, she could be back with the medicine before the Doctor and K-9 returned. ‘Docking bay two?’

‘Indeed.’ The lizard collapsed back to sleep.

Romana slipped the key into her pocket and hurried out of the medical bay.

*

The Doctor leaned over a parapet and gazed into the gloom. K-9 had led them to a vast chamber, a shaft sinking into the depths of the ship, overlooked by tier upon tier of balconies. ‘Do you know, K-9, there’s something that’s been preying on my mind.’

‘Master, sensors indicate…’ K-9 wheeled to the Doctor’s side.

‘Normally, when I arrive somewhere, people point guns at me and throw me in prison. Within about twenty-four and a half minutes of arriving, usually,’ said the Doctor. ‘But this time everyone’s pleased to see me. I mean, it was bound to happen one day, but it still strikes me as, well, odd.’

‘Master, urgent warning…’ There was a fizzling and K-9 went silent.

‘I’m not used to it. After all, how am I supposed to know who the baddies are if no one will capture –’ The Doctor didn’t finish his thought. Instead, he raised his arms into the air and revolved on the spot, attentive to the rifle butt that was pressing against the small of his back. ‘I believe that is what is known as speaking too soon.’

Two men in silver-and-black tunics – some species of policeman, the Doctor presumed – were levelling their rifles at him. The larger one fixed him with a world-weary glare. ‘Stay very, very still. We don’t like having to shoot suspects, but we’re quite prepared to do things we don’t like, aren’t we, Rige?’

‘We certainly are, Dunkal.’ The other policeman sidled to where K-9 stood. ‘We take a professional pride in our work.’ The metal dog was motionless, his head drooping. The policeman kicked him, and K-9 gave a feeble splutter. ‘The weapons unit has been rendered inoffensive.’

‘Well done, Rige. Now –’

‘Inoffensive? You dare to call K-9 inoffensive?’ The Doctor realised what he was saying and backtracked. ‘Of course K-9 is inoffensive, he’s a very genial fellow. What have you done to him?’

‘Listen,’ chewed Dunkal. ‘We have reason to believe you are
guilty
of acts of terrorism, and are quite prepared to –’

‘To kill me if I don’t co-operate? We can do this the easy way or the hard way?’ said the Doctor. ‘Yes, I know the routine. And I must say I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, and am innocent of anything you care to mention. Probably. But first, may I ask, who are you?’

‘I am Investigator Dunkal, and this is my colleague, Investigator Rige.’

‘Delighted. I’ve never been held at gunpoint by Investigators before.’ The Doctor waved at Rige. Rige winced.

Dunkal raised his rifle to prod the Doctor’s chin in what he probably imagined was a menacing fashion. ‘And you are known as “the Doctor”, are you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘He doesn’t deny it,’ sneered Rige.

‘No, of course I don’t deny it,’ the Doctor retorted. ‘Though I will be happy to deny anything else you may accuse me of.’

‘Quiet,’ said Dunkal. He leaned into the Doctor’s flinching face. ‘“The Doctor”, I am placing you under arrest, on suspicion of crimes of sabotage resulting in murder and grievous collateral damage. You will be taken from this place to a place of imprisonment pending investigation. Although you have the right to remain silent, we have the right to infer guilt from your silence. Is there anything you wish to say?’

The Doctor grinned. ‘Yes. People pointing guns at me. This is such a relief!’

Docking bay two was not difficult to find. It consisted of a narrow gantry with airlock ports branching off on either side that connected to various spacecraft. Beyond a transparent barrier, the hyperspace tunnel swirled for ten miles or so into the distance before opening on to a starscape. The gateway to real space.

The spaceships were mainly interplanetary hoppers, small transporters for a dozen or so passengers. The majority were recognisably Terran, although Romana spotted a couple of
Yetraxxi
cruisers with their distinctive hairdryer shape. Many of the craft were streaked with meteor burns, although some had been customised in garish, flowery patterns.

Romana proceeded towards the next airlock, her footsteps clanking on the metal floor. The electronic banner above the door read
Indigo Glow. GRS 68
and she pressed the ident key on to the security pad. There was an affirmative trill and the airlock swished open. Romana stepped inside.

A sickly scent hit her nostrils. The interior of the spacehopper reeked of exotic perfumes and alcohol. The instrumentation and controls – which Romana considered to be rather perfunctory – were cluttered with pop-packets, plastic bags and food containers. Empty bottles of every hue and shape and size lined the dashboard. The three seats were covered with beading and piles of cushions, and woolly rugs smothered the floor. A variety of trinkets lined the rear wall: lava lamps, eccentric fossils, two tusks, a hookah, and a poster of a nymph cavorting to publicise a forthcoming concert.

Locating the rear locker, Romana brushed aside the litter and slid it open.

As promised, it was packed with every conceivable type of drug. Cartons and bubble-packets spilled out over the floor. Phenyzide, Novovacuous, and hundreds of luridly coloured pills that she had no hope of identifying without a well-stocked laboratory and a spare weekend. Deeper inside the locker were sealed bottles of Etheramyl and Opiasamin tablets.

‘Looks like someone has robbed a chemist. Several chemists.’ Romana crammed as many anaesthetics as she could find into two carrier bags. She couldn’t stay long; the stench was giving her a headache, and the whole ambience was really rather too squalid.

Her mission completed, she hoisted the bags into her arms and headed for the exit.

Metcalf looked up to see the Doctor being shoved into his office. Dunkal and Rige followed behind. Rige was carrying some sort of box-shaped dog which he dumped against one wall.

‘Doctor.’ Metcalf shuffled some papers aside. ‘So pleasant to have your company again.’

‘You too, you too.’ The Doctor strode towards Metcalf’s desk.

‘I’m terrible with names, but isn’t it –?’

‘Stay still,’ ordered Dunkal, training his rifle on him. The Doctor halted, one foot in the air. ‘Executive Metcalf,’ the Investigator continued, ‘do you identify this man as the one who sabotaged the Beautiful Death?’

Metcalf pursed his fingers together. He was going to enjoy this. ‘Indeed. I most certainly do. This man is the cause of all our tribulations. He destroyed ERIC –’

‘May I just interrupt here?’ The Doctor’s raised leg was shaking. ‘It seems to me we’re talking at crossed wires. I haven’t sabotaged anything, at least I haven’t sabotaged anything yet, and I really don’t have any intention of sabotaging anything in the future, so I can’t have done it and can I put my foot down please?’

‘Shut it,’ said Dunkal. ‘I’m asking…’

‘… the questions?’ said the Doctor. ‘And very perspicacious they are too. But there’s one thing you’ve forgotten.’

Dunkal cast his gaze around the office. ‘Which is?’

The Doctor lowered his foot. ‘Evidence.’

‘Evidence?’ said Rige. ‘What’s…’

‘Fingerprints. The candlestick in the library. The discarded hockey glove. Proof.’

‘We know what evidence is, Doctor,’ barked Dunkal. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘I’m asking how do you know I did it? All you have is Metcalf’s word. And that really isn’t enough, is it?’

Dunkal and Rige exchanged glances as they weighed the Doctor’s words. Metcalf squirmed. Somehow the situation was slipping out of control.

‘I am Executive of the G-Lock,’ he announced, rising from his seat to face the Doctor. ‘Whereas you are, well I don’t know what you are, some sort of cosmic beatnik I assume, but I am considerably more important than you. You imagine they could believe your
word
above mine? You are a saboteur, a terrorist.’

‘I am not!’ hissed the Doctor.

Metcalf appealed to Dunkal. ‘This man is obviously guilty, I can’t see what we have to gain by…’

‘With due respect,’ said Dunkal. ‘He does, unfortunately, have a point. We can’t just convict him on the basis of your statement. We need corroboration.’

‘Corroboration,’ agreed Rige.

Metcalf fumed and sat down. He rearranged his papers. He could feel his forehead prickling, and rummaged for a handkerchief.

‘Right,’ said the Doctor. ‘And now can somebody please tell me what has been going on?’

With the carrier bags in her arms, Romana strode down the corridor towards the medical bay. The drugs she’d collected would, she hoped, be enough for the next few hours. After that, if what K-9 had said was true, the survivors would have to be moved out of the G-Lock. There were certainly enough ships in the docking bay to transport them.

The corridor took her through a gallery overlooking a high-ceilinged deck. Romana moved along it, her feet sinking silently into the carpet. Looking down between the pillars, she recognised the floor below as the place where they had discovered the man in the skull mask.

The bodies had gone.

Romana stepped down the staircase to where the man had been lying. Someone must have cleared the corpses away, she guessed, but there was no trace of them ever having been there, no abandoned belongings, no bloodstains on the carpet.