Doctor Who: Ribos Operation (17 page)

‘It is said that no one ever returns from the depths of the
Catacombs,’ he said solemnly to the assembled Shrieves when he
had completed the preparations. ‘Now we shall make sure of it—
by sealing them for ever...’

After a final check, the Captain took a flaring brand from
one of his men and made ready to light the fuse...

As the Seeker led the way back towards the Hall of the Dead, the
Graff Vynda Ka raved and threatened in a crazed obsessive
voice, vowing total destruction of the planet Ribos to the Doctor
marching silently at his side. When at last they came in sight of
the narrow funnel of rock which formed the entrance to the
labyrinth, the Graff halted. He stared at the cringing old woman
with maddened eyes. Searching among the folds of his cape he
drew out a pair of small ceremonial daggers with elaborately
carved handles and slim Plashing blades.

The Graff raised the daggers aloft in imitation of the
Seeker’s ritualistic gestures with her bones. ‘What is the
prophecy?’ he cried hysterically. ‘All but one doomed to die!’

The grinning hag nodded gleefully.

‘Then die!’ he shrieked, plunging the knives deep into the
Seeker’s scrawny body.

The Doctor looked on uneasily as the gaping wounds
showed not the slightest trace of bleeding. Flourishing her bones
defiantly the Seeker uttered a spine-chilling cackle and stumbled
wildly away towards the Hall of the Dead.

The Graff Vynda Ka watched impassively as the mortally
wounded priestess staggered out of sight in the harsh white light
from the Doctor’s torch. Then he turned to the one remaining
member of his crack Levithian Guard.

‘And now the most glorious task falls to you—the very last of
my Invincibles,’ he cried. ‘Were you with me in the Skarrno
Campaign?’

‘No, Your Highness. I did not have that great honour,’ came
the Doctor’s muffled reply as he watched the Graff slowly pulling
off his armoured gauntlets.

The Graff reached out and began to make rapid
adjustments to the complex network of connections on top of the
charger unit clipped to the Doctor’s belt.

‘So many honours... so many victories..: he raved as he
swiftly reconnected the terminals. ‘I remember Sholakh planting
my Imperial Standard right in the very heart of the Skarrnoest
Emperor. And now Sholakh too is dead...’

The adjustments completed, the Graff pulled on his
gauntlets and reached out for the pouch containing the Jethryk
nugget. The Doctor handed it over.

The Graff stepped back clipping the pouch firmly onto his
belt. ‘All but one is doomed to die,’ he murmured, glancing
down at the charger unit at the Doctor’s side. And it will be the
highest honour for you to sacrifice yourself in the service of the
Graff Vynda Ka—and to seal the tomb of your beloved
Commander Sholakh for ever.’

The Graff stepped forward again and embraced the last of
his Levithians with solemn ceremony. As he did so, the Doctor
deftly removed the charger unit from his own belt and with
lightning fingers exchanged it for the lump of Jethryk in the
pouch. Then, holding the precious nugget behind his back, he
performed a smart salute with his free hand in reply to the
Graff’s farewell.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, there is absolutely nothing up my
sleeves,’ the Doctor murmured to himself as he watched the
Graff turn and stride quickly away towards the Hall of the Dead.
Then he began hurriedly searching along the walls of the tunnel
for a suitable place to take cover...

Just as the Shrieve Captain thrust the flaring brand into the
touch hole of the massive cannon, the Seeker dragged herself
into the entrance to the echoing necropolis from the Catacombs.
The Captain shielded his face and stared in horror between his
fingers as the old woman lurched to a stop in front of the mighty
gun. Flinging up her fragile arms she released the sacred bones
so that they smashed into the tunnel roof as the powder sizzled
in the fuse hole. The brittle fragments rattled around her as she
stared into the gaping muzzle of the cannon.

‘All... but... one...’ she shrieked.

With a stunning roar the cannon fired, its massive bulk
hurled backwards by the recoil. The Seeker disappeared in the
fireball of rock and shrapnel which tore into the tunnel and
instantly destroyed the only entrance to the Catacombs with a
noise like thunder.

In the long silence which followed, the Captain and his
Shrieves stood in the smoke-filled mausoleum, their heads
bowed in tribute to their dead priestess. Then the Captain raised
his head and nodded grimly.

‘No one has ever returned,’ he murmured, ‘and now no one
ever shall.’

The Graff Vynda Ka stood in the entrance to what remained
of the tunnel leading out of the Catacombs, his whole body
trembling uncontrollably and his eyes seared by the ferocious
blast from the Shrieves’ cannon. He was snatching his breath in
short hysterical gasps between tightly clenched teeth, and all
over his face and neck the blue veins bulged like whipcords. He
stared fixedly but blindly in the direction of the avalanche
blocking the way back into the Hall of the Dead, and eventually
began to mutter under his breath.

Soon his muttering grew to a shout and then to a screaming
refrain as he flung back his head with a final mad rallying cry.
‘To me my Invincibles... To me... To me...’ he shrieked in a
blind frenzy. Brandishing the pouch into which Sholakh had put
the Jethryk, he lowered his head and threw himself into the
blocked tunnel like a charging bull.

The Doctor jammed his cumbersome armour-plated body as
best he could into a crevice in the wall at the other end of the
tunnel. ‘Ten... nine... eight...’ he murmured, listening intently
through his thick metal helmet to the Graff’s crazed voice
echoing in the tunnel. ‘To me, Sholakh. To me. Cover the flank
there. Charge...’

‘Four... three... two... one...’ The Doctor counted, gripping
the nugget of Jethryk anxiously in his gloved hands.

There was a brief silence. Then a blinding flash momentarily
lit up the tunnel and there was a colossal explosion. The Doctor
was brushed out of the crevice, as if by some gigantic paw, and
hurled down the tunnel into the first of the caverns forming the
labyrinth of the Catacombs. He lay quite still. As the echoing
detonation died away he heard a curious tinkling sound all
around him. Then complete silence, except for an insistent
ringing inside his head from the stunning force of the explosion.

Eventually the Doctor clambered slowly and painfully to his
feet and thankfully removed the heavy stifling helmet from his
shoulders. In the bright circle of light from his torch he saw that
he was completely surrounded by a thin carpet of small gold
coins. ‘Pennies from heaven?’ he mused, bending down
awkwardly to pick one up. As he stared at the dully gleaming
opek, embossed with the crest of the Cyrrhenic Imperial
Exchequer, it occurred to the Doctor that perhaps the thousands
and thousands of coins should he collected and returned to the
Imperial Chancellor.

But with a shrug he flicked the coin away into the darkness.
‘All that glitters...’ he muttered, quickly releasing the clamps
securing his armour and wriggling free from the cumbrous
metal suit. He pulled his hat out of his coat pocket, thumped it
into shape and stuck it carelessly on his head with a huge sigh of
relief. Suddenly the Doctor frowned. He stared down at his
empty hands. Then he rummaged quickly through his bulging
pockets. ‘All that glitters... is not gold,’ he cried, anxiously
shining the torch beam round the cavern floor, ‘and I’ve been
robbed!’

Frantically he began to stride round the cavern shining the
torch all over its vast, rock-strewn floor and kicking the gleaming
gold opeks angrily aside. At last he came back to the heap of
Levithian armour lying where he had shed it. In a furious
outburst he kicked it and sent it clattering into the shadows.
There at his feet lay the nugget of Jethryk glittering brilliantly in
the torchlight.

‘Eureka!’ he cried, snatching it up and examining it closely.
It seemed to he intact. He wrapped it carefully in his vast
spotted handkerchief and thrust it deep into his overcoat.

The Doctor’s broad smile of delight at finding the Jethryk
again immediately faded to a frown of apprehension as he set off
across the cavern in the direction of the tunnel where the Graff
Vynda Ka had been blown to pieces. ‘All but one is doomed to
die,’ he murmured as he passed the discarded armour huddled
among the rocks. ‘And the question is—which one?’ After a few
paces he raised the torch and shone it along the tunnel, hardly
daring to look to see if there remained any possible escape route.

In a few seconds he would discover whether the blast from
the charger unit had cleared a was through the avalanche made
by the Shrieves, or whether he was doomed to be an eternal
prisoner of the ancient labyrinth...

Scarf ends flying, his hat at a rakish angle and his face one huge
smile, the Doctor breezed through the archway of the city gate
closely followed by Romana, K9, Garron and Unstoffe.

‘Oh, ask me anything,’ he cried cheerfully, ‘anything you
like. Which came first the chicken or the egg? Anything...’

Garron was shaking his head in admiration as he hurried
along. ‘But how did you switch the charger unit for the Jethryk
without the Graff noticing?’ he asked.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘Oh, sleight of hand you know,’ he
called over his shoulder. ‘just the usual old tricks, Garron.’

Garron exchanged a significant glance with his breathless
associate and tapped the side of his nose craftily.

‘I suppose that it was quite a clever move,’ Romana
conceded in an off-hand voice.

‘Quite clever?’ the Doctor exclaimed, stopping abruptly so
that the others had some difficulty avoiding cannoning into one
another. ‘Quite clever? It was a stroke of sheer genius,’ he
protested, turning to them and holding up the spotted
handkerchief containing the precious nugget. ‘If I had not
succeeded,’ he went on sternly, ‘not only would the Segment
have fallen into the wrong hands—possibly with dire
consequences for the entire Universe—but none of us would be
here now.’

After a short silence Garron came up to the Doctor, his
beady eyes full of respect. ‘We are all eternally grateful, Doctor,’
he beamed, ‘but I have one last favour to request—the Jethryk—
if I might be permitted to hold it for a moment? One last look?’

To Romana’s horror the Doctor readily handed the bulging
handkerchief to the fawning con-man, and turned
unconcernedly away to clear the drifted snow piled against the
door of the barely visible TARDIS.

Beaming with pleasure, Garron stood in the pale green
sunlight stroking the nugget lovingly. ‘You cannot imagine how
reluctant I am to part with it,’ he murmured.

The Doctor unlocked the door of the TARDIS and pushed it
open. ‘Oh, I think I can, Garron,’ he grinned turning round
with outstretched hand.

Reluctantly, Garron wrapped up the colourful bundle and
gave it back. ‘So this is goodbye, Doctor,’ he said, shaking hands
heartily.

To everyone’s surprise the Doctor responded by flinging his
arms round the portly swindler and giving him a generous hug.
‘I too am eternally grateful to you, Garron,’ he said solemnly.

Stuffing the red and white bundle into his overcoat pocket
the Doctor shook hands with Unstoffe and then ushered
Romana and K9 into the TARDIS. ‘Cheerio,’ he waved before
slamming the chipped blue door shut behind him.

‘Well, that’s the end of that,’ Unstoffe mumbled in a
crestfallen voice, massaging his still painful shoulder. ‘We’ll just
have to go straight from now on.’

Garron put his plump arm round the dejected figure beside
him. ‘Straight?’ he cried. ‘Come, come, my lad, we’ve not done
too badly.’

Unstoffe stared at him. ‘Oh, no,’ he snorted. ‘We’ve only lost
the Jethryk and come out of all this carry-on without a penny.
That’s all.’

At that moment the amber light began to flash on the roof of
the TARDIS. Garron and Unstoffe looked on in astonishment as
the caked snow fell away from the shuddering structure in front
of them.

Suddenly Carton’s beady eyes widened. ‘I never could stand
the sight of that word,’ he muttered with a shiver.

‘What word?’ Unstoffe frowned.

‘P... O... L... I... C... E,’ Garron growled, nodding at the
faded lettering above the shimmering, wobbling box which was
becoming more and more like a mirage every second.

They covered their ears as harsh elephantine groans issued
from the violently vibrating woodwork, and then huddled
together as the vortex sucked the surrounding air into a
whirlwind storm of whipped up snow which tore fiercely at them
like a multitude of invisible fingers. After a few seconds, only the
flashing light remained visible. Then it too faded into nothing
and everything suddenly grew eerily calm and quiet.

‘So they were Alliance Security, after all,’ Unstoffe muttered,
breaking the ominous silence through chattering teeth.

‘Who them?’ Garron laughed, shaking his head pompously.
‘Small-time privateers, my boy. Hopeless amateurs.’

Unstoffe threw him a puzzled glance. ‘You must admit that
was some getaway,’ he protested. ‘I’ve never seen anything like
it’

Garron shrugged. ‘I’m glad they’ve gone. I was afraid the
girl was going to twig.’

‘Twig what?’ Unstoffe dernanded, exasperated. With a smug
grin Garron pulled something out of his furs. ‘I swapped the
Jethryk for a lump of flint, my boy, so we haven’t lost it after all.
Look...’

‘You cunning old...’ Unstoffe’s jaw dropped as he stared into
Garron’s outstretched hand. Canon glanced quickly down and
his fleshy smile froze. He was holding a hunk of ordinary stone.

‘Well I’ll be... He... He switched it back...’ Garton cried
incredulously. ‘I ask you, my lad. Who can you trust these days?
Who can you trust?’