Doctor Who: Fury From the Deep (7 page)

Mr Quill went straight to the back patio door of the kitchen, and for a moment just stared at it. His pale, gaunt, funereal features were quite impassive.

'The bag, Mr Quill,' said short and fat. He was already inspecting the cooker they were supposed to be servicing.

Mr Quill took the small black leather bag to the cooker, placed it on a working top alongside, and opened it.

Mr Oak reached into the bag, and took out two pairs of plain white gloves...

'Mr Robson, sir!' Price was calling from the Control Cone.

'Message from Control Rig!'

Robson was on the observation platform, checking temperature gauges. 'What do they want?' he yelled.

'There's an excessive pressure build-up in their pipeline feed to us!'

Robson hurried across to the Cone, snatched the telekation print-out message from Price. 'Ask them how much,' he ordered.

'Mr Robson!' Van Lutyens was rushing across from the Impeller Area. 'Pressure's almost up to danger level. Shall I give the order to turn off the flow?'

'You'll do nothing of the sort, Mr van Lutyens.'

'But the pressure is almost up to capacity,' warned van Lutyens, again mopping beads of sweat from his forehead. 'There will be an explosion at any minute!'

Robson flicked his eyes up from the message he was reading.

'There will
not
be an explosion,' he said, confidently.

The Dutchman stared at Robson in total disbelief, and said, 'If you don't turn off the flow, there's no way you can avoid it!'

Robson lost his patience, turned his back on the Dutchman and yelled out to an engineer on the observation platform. 'Open Beach Release Valve, Section D. Full capacity!'

The engineer paused, unsure whether he had heard right.

Robson yelled again. 'Did you hear what I said?'

This time the engineer obeyed immediately, and started turning a valve wheel to release gas pressure in the specified section.

'What are you doing?' shouted van Lutyens. He was now convinced that Robson had completely misread the situation. 'You will never release enough gas in time!'

Robson's only reply was to turn with a sneering look at the Dutchman and say, 'D'you want to bet -
Mr
van Lutyens?'

The curtains were drawn in the Harrises' bedroom. Maggie was feeling much worse. Even though there was only a dim half-light in the room, she was lying flat on her back on the bed, covering her face with her hands, shielding her eyes from the light.

The silence was eventually broken by a gentle tapping sound, coming from the kitchen. The two maintenance controllers were clearly in the middle of their work on the gas cooker.

Maggie took her hands away from her face, and squinted. She again had a pounding headache. After lying there for a few minutes, she managed to summon up enough energy to pull herself up from the bed and cross the room. She sat down at the dressing table, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The shock was immediate. Not only was she looking very tired and drawn, but, in her mind's eye, she was beginning to age prematurely.

In the kitchen, Mr Oak and Mr Quill were carrying out their mock inspection of the gas cooker. Not a word passed between them.

Almost by word of command, the two men suddenly stopped work. They could hear the approach of the thumping, heartbeat sound. Both men looked at each other. Mr Oak smiled. It was time for the real work to begin.

Mr Oak stretched out his hand to the cooker, and turned on each one of the taps. As he did so, he noticed the strands of seaweed that were beginning to form on his hand and arm. Both he and Mr Quill reacted to this with a triumphant glow in their eyes. Again, Mr Oak smiled. Then he picked up a pair of white gloves, similar to those which Mr Quill was already wearing, and put them on. Then both men turned to look at the back patio door.

The thumping, heartbeat sound was becoming louder, and more intense.

Mr Quill went to the back door, and opened it. The noise was immediately deafening. Thumping. Pulsating. Shrieking. Hissing. On the kitchen patio outside, the clump of seaweed had expanded into a solid mass, engulfed in a sea of bubbling white foam.

Mr Oak and Mr Quill left the room, and went out into the hallway. As they did so, bubbling white foam began seeping over the kitchen step through the open door.

Maggie was still sitting at her dressing table, resting her head wearily between her hands. On a sudden impulse, she determined to pull herself together. Grabbing her comb, she started tidying her hair.

But as she looked up into the mirror, she gasped with a shocked start.

The silhouettes of two-figures were reflected there, standing behind her. Maggie swung round.

'What are you doing in here!' she yelled.

Mr Oak and Mr Quill did not reply. They remained absolutely still, just staring at Maggie.

Maggie looked terrified. She slowly rose, her back pressed against the mirror. 'You have no right to come into my room... ' Her hands were gripping hard the edge of the dresssing table.

Mr Oak and Mr Quill did not reply.

'Did you hear what I - '

Maggie did not finish her sentence. Her eyes suddenly flicked straight past the two intruders, to the open doorway. A wall of bubbling white foam and seaweed was pushing its way into the room. Maggie was too chilled with fear to speak. All she could do was to look on helplessly as the advance guard of the foam and weed began to snake its way across the room in her direction.

Mr Oak and Mr Quill took a few steps towards Maggie, then stopped within just a few feet of her. Both their faces were fixed with almost identical grins.

Maggie tried to scream. But she was stopped abruptly, as Mr Oak and Mr Quill simultaneously took a deep breath, and opened their mouths as wide as they could. Then, in unison, they exhaled straight at Maggie. The sound they made was eerie and terrifying. It was the sound of hissing gas.

Maggie was immediately overcome by the fumes. She tried desperately to scream, but couldn't.

The bubbling white foam and weed was drawing closer and closer...

Maggie was clutching her throat, coughing, spluttering. Shc couldn't breathe.

Mr Oak and Mr Quill were immovable, like marble statues.

The hissing sounds of gas fumes was still pouring out from their wide-open mouths.

Maggie was losing control, and could hold on no longer. As she slumped to the floor, she grabbed at the dressing table, scattering the contents all around her.

As the wall of foam and seaweed drew closer and closer to Maggie's lifeless body, the sound of hissing gas continued unabated from the wide-open mouths of Mr Oak and Mr Quill...

Somewhere along a lonely stretch of beach, the hissing sound of gas continued. This time however, it was being released from the valve on top of the giant pipeline tube.

The hissing sound suddenly stopped. The valve was closed.

5

'It's down!' The Chief Engineer raised his fist triumphantly, after checking the pressure gauge on the wall of the Impeller Area.

The needle was wavering to and fro frantically. 'The pressure in the pipeline - it's back to normal!'

A great cheer went up from the group of engineers who were watching anxiously.

'Congratulations, Mr Robson,' said van Lutyens with relief. 'I would not have thought you could have done it.'

Robson was glowing with self-confidence after the success of his decision to open the valve and release gas from the beach section of the pipeline. 'If you have too much gas in the tube, get rid of it!' he scowled bombastically. 'Didn't they ever teach you that in Training School back at the Hague, Mr van Lutyens?'

The Dutchman refused to answer. He had become immune to Robson's petty insults. Robson grinned, then turned to one of the engineers. 'Inform Baxter at Control Rig that the immediate crisis is over. And contact the other rig chiefs.'

The engineer rushed off to pass on the messages. Robson and van Lutyens followed him out to the Control Hall, stopping at the observation platform to check various pressure gauges.

'What about the feed-out to the receiving stations?' asked the Dutchman. 'It's still dropping.' Robson ignored him and started tapping one of the gauges. The Dutchman persisted. 'The impeller is still slowing down...'

Robson suddenly lost his cool again. 'What's the matter with you, van Lutyens?' he growled. 'You've been trying to teach me my job ever since you came here. I've been drilling for gas out there in the North Sea most of my life. I don't need people like you, or Harris, to teach me how to do it!'

'Mr Robson!' Price was calling urgently from the Control Cone. There was a touch of hysteria in Price's voice. 'It's Rig C, sir.

We can't raise them!'

Robson hurried across to the Cone, followed by van Lutyens.

'What d'you mean you can't raise them?' snapped Robson, as he looked at the video monitor screen used for contact with Rig C. It was streaked with distorted, quivering lines.

'We've tried everything, sir. There's no response at all!'

Robson ignored Price and started punching out video and computer keys. The monitor screen remained defiantly blank.

'So the immediate crisis is over, is it?' said the Dutchman to Robson ironically. He was also watching the blank monitor screen.

Frank Harris arrived home to find the front door of his apartment block wide open. 'Maggie!' he called out anxiously. 'I've brought the Doctor!'

The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria followed Harris into the hallway. The moment they entered, Jamie became convulsed with a loud fit of sneezing.

'Gas!' yelled the Doctor. He and the others quickly covered their mouths.

Harris rushed into the bedroom and immediately shouted back to the Doctor to follow him. The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria charged into the bedroom, and were nearly choked by the smell of gas fumes.

'Maggie!' Harris went straight to his wife, who was slumped in a heap on the floor. Everyone was coughing and spluttering.

'Quick, Jamie!' the Doctor shouted. 'The window!'

Jamie desperately searched around for something to break open the window. His eyes lighted on a heavy wooden chair, and, in a split-second decision, he smashed the window open with it, splintering glass everywhere.

The deadly gas fumes were instantly sucked out of the room, to be replaced by a stream of ice-cold air from outside. The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria stayed by the broken window, taking deep breaths of fresh air.

Frank Harris, distraught and desperate, was kneeling beside the lifeless body of his wife. Maggie's eyes were firmly closed, and her face was as white as sea foam. 'Maggie... ' called Harris, gently caressing her face with his hand. 'Oh, Maggie... '

In the Control Hall at the Refinery, the video monitor screen was still flickering with distorted lines.

'I'm sorry, sir,' said Price nervously. 'We've completely lost contact with Rig C.'

Robson clenched his fist and punched it into his other hand in frustration. Then he turned away from the Cone, deep in thought.

Van Lutyens pursued him.

'I hope you are satisfied with what you've done?' The Dutchman's booming voice echoed around the Hall, causing everyone to stop what they were doing.

Robson turned slowly. With seething rage he was glaring at the Dutchman. 'Van Lutyens,' he sneered. 'I'm warning you...'

'And I warned you!' roared van Lutyens defiantly. 'But you were too stubborn to listen. Look at the facts, man, the facts!'

Robson strode off. Again the Dutchman pursued him. 'First we lose contact with two rigs,' continued van Lutyens. 'Then, for over three weeks we have unprecedented and inexplicable pressure variations in the entire pipeline system.'

'Oh, so that's it!' yelled Robson, stopping dead on the steps of the observation platform. 'You've been talking with Harris!'

'Only because you refuse to listen to his calculations!' The Dutchman was matching Robson's outburst with his own anger.

'That's why I went out to the Control Rig - to see if there was any explanation out there!'

'And what did you find?' Robson snapped back. His exchange with van Lutyens had now become a shouting match. 'Nothing! And I'll tell you why - because there was nothing to find!'

'I tell you Mr Harris's figures are - '

'To hell with Harris and his figures!' Robson's face was now blood-red with fury, and a vein protruded from his forehead. 'D'you think I'm going to take notice of some schoolkid, with his bits of paper, graphs and sliderule? I've spent my life on this job. I know every nut and bolt on every rig out in that sea!'

Van Lutyens sighed despondently. He had long been aware of Robson's antipathy towards Harris's red-brick university education.

'All right,' said the Dutchman, 'so your prejudice prevents you from accepting Mr Harris's calculations. But what about me? Do you dismiss my opinion with as much contempt?'

'You?' Robson's glare turned into a cynical smile. 'You, Mr van Lutyens, are here to offer your expert advice. However, I am not obliged to take it. This is my outfit, and I run it the way I want to.

Understood?'

'Mr Robson!' Robson swung with a start, to see an engineer calling from the door of the Impeller Area.

'The impeller! She's down to 140 revs. Something must be jamming her at the base.'

Robson rushed into the impeller area. Van Lutyens followed him. The Chief Engineer was frantically tapping pressure gauges, stopping only to listen to the impeller Housing Unit. His crew were anxiously staring down into the darkness of the impeller shaft, where the sound of the giant pump was gradually slowing down.

Everyone was watching and waiting tensely. The giant pump was moving erratically now, crunching and grating with enormous effort. Finally, it ground to a halt with a huge thud.

The silence that followed seemed unnatural. No one could remember a time when the sound of the giant impeller pump had not dominated the life of the Refinery.