Doctor Who: The Seeds of Doom (2 page)

The Doctor glanced at the progress chart and raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘According to these figures he should be dead.’ He pulled back the bedclothes.

Stevenson gasped in horror. ‘Good grief! What is it?’

Winlett’s right hand had completely vanished and in its place was a green, vegetable-like growth.

‘Whatever came out of that pod has obviously infected him,’ replied the Doctor grimly. ‘How soon can you get a proper medical team here?’

Stevenson tugged at his moustache. ‘We’ve been on to them, but conditions are bad. Maybe tomorrow.’

The Doctor straightened the bedclothes and stepped back. ‘I doubt if tomorrow is going to be soon enough. Show me the pod.’

Stevenson led him out of the Sick Bay and down a narrow, corrugated steel tunnel to a door marked ‘Laboratory’. Inside, Sarah and Moberly were huddled over a crackling radio set.

‘What is it?’ asked Stevenson.

‘Bad news,’ said Moberly gravely. ‘The medical team has turned back. One of their Snocats fell into a crevasse.’

Stevenson began to panic. ‘What are we going to do? Winlett’s dying.’

‘No he’s not,’ said the Doctor. ‘He’s changing form, which could be worse. We need a blood test. Fast.’

‘I’m a zoologist. I can prepare a specimen slide,’ offered Moberly.

The Doctor nodded. ‘Right.’ Moberly hurried out and the Doctor turned to Stevenson. ‘The pod?’

Stevenson led him to the bench where the pod had lain open and untouched since the attack on Winlett. The Doctor stooped to examine it. ‘Why did it open, I wonder?’ he muttered to himself.

Stevenson shifted uneasily. ‘That could be my fault. I used the ultra-violet lamp to thaw it out. I felt certain there was life there, you see.’

The Doctor rose and gave him a stony stare. ‘Mr Stevenson,’ he said slowly and deliberately, ‘what you have done could result in the total destruction of life on this planet.’

In the Sick Bay Winlett was growing worse by the minute, as the green infection crept relentlessly up his arm.

Meanwhile, the Doctor had asked to see the trench where the pod had been found. For over an hour, he, Stevenson and Sarah had battled through a howling gale to reach the spot. Now he was digging furiously in the icy wall with a small pick, oblivious to the biting wind and thick snow which almost blotted the other two from view.

Suddenly he stopped. ‘Yes, I thought so. Here we are.’ He threw the pick aside and, scrabbling with his bare hands, lifted out of the ice a second pod, an exact replica of the first.

‘Another pod!’ gasped Sarah.

‘How did you know...’ began Stevenson. ‘Will there be any more?’

‘No. They always travel in pairs. Like policemen.’ The Doctor stood up, clearly very pleased with himself.

‘What are we going to do with it?’ asked Sarah, puzzled.

‘Put it in the fridge. Come on.’ The Doctor scrambled out of the trench. The other two followed, none the wiser.

It was almost nightfall by the time they regained Camp. The Doctor immediately placed the pod in a special freeze box in the Lab, used for keeping ice samples. There was no further news of the medical team but Moberly had taken the blood test. One look confirmed the Doctor’s suspicions. The platelets of

Winlett’s blood—magnified a thousandfold—revealed the presence of plant bacteria.

‘As I thought,’ said the Doctor, removing his eye from the microscope, ‘a human being whose blood is turning into vegetable soup!’

At that moment the roar of an aircraft engine shook the walls of the Crew Quarters where they were standing.

‘The medical team!’ cried Sarah jubilantly.

‘Quick, Derek, the landing lights!’ yelled Stevenson, and the two of them grabbed their snowsuits and dashed outside.

Sarah turned to the Doctor. ‘Will they be able to do anything for that man?’

‘I don’t know, Sarah. He’s half way towards becoming a Krynoid.’

‘Krynoid?’

The Doctor nodded.

‘You mean you recognised the pod?’

‘Oh yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘I was fairly certain when I saw the photographs in London. But now I’m sure.’

‘Well, what is a Krynoid?’ demanded Sarah, peeved he had not told her of his suspicions. ‘What does it do?’

‘You could describe it as a galactic weed,’ explained the Doctor. ‘The pod we found is just one of a thousand seeds dispersed by the mother plant. Given the right conditions, each pod releases a parasitic shoot which attaches itself to the nearest animal life-form—in this instance it happened to be human. The infected victim changes rapidly and ultimately develops into a fully grown Krynoid, thus completing the cycle.’

Sarah gasped. ‘But that’s terrifying! How did these pods manage to land here on Earth?’

‘Good question,’ said the Doctor, tapping the side of his nose. ‘I wish I knew the answer. Possibly their planet of origin is very turbulent. Every so often there could be internal explosions which send surface matter shooting off into space.’ He paused, as if weighing up the pros and cons of the theory in his mind.

The door burst open at this point and Moberly and Stevenson struggled in, supporting two frozen, semi-collapsed figures.

‘Is this the medical team?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Afraid not,’ gasped Stevenson as he helped ease the two strangers gently into a couple of chairs. ‘Just got themselves lost.’

Moberly administered some piping hot coffee from a flask, which the two men gratefully gulped down.

‘Sorry to be such a nuisance,’ said one of them finally. ‘We were running low on fuel when we saw your lights.’ He was tall and swarthy, with a black pointed beard.

‘That was lucky,’ said Sarah. ‘Lights are few and far between in Antarctica.’

The Doctor’s voice, urgent and decisive, cut through these explanations. ‘The medical team was our last chance. Now we must act for ourselves. And quickly.’ He shot out of the room.

‘Where’s he going now?’ asked Stevenson.

‘Where do you think?’ replied Sarah. ‘Come on.’ She hurried out, Stevenson and Moberly close behind her.

Left alone, the two strangers exchanged wary glances.

‘Do you think they swallowed it?’ said the second man. He was small and ferrety.

‘Don’t worry, Keeler,’ said the dark one. ‘What can they do?’ He tapped his left breast and grinned. The bulge of an automatic pistol could just be seen beneath his nylon snowsuit.

The Doctor was already in the Sick Bay when Sarah and the others rushed in. They were totally unprepared for the sight which hit them. Winlett lay on the bed, deathly pale, his breath rasping and distorted. The plant-like infection now covered his entire right side.

Stevenson fought for words. ‘It’s... it’s as if he’s turning into some kind of monster!’

‘That’s exactly what is happening,’ said the Doctor gravely.

‘Can’t we do anything to help?’

‘Yes, but it’s drastic,’ warned the Doctor. ‘We can amputate the arm. It’s his only chance.’

‘But none of us are surgeons,’ protested Moberly. ‘It could be fatal.’

‘It’s a risk we have to take,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘Come on!’ He led the way out.

The door shut on the motionless form in the bed. For a few seconds everything remained still as the footsteps receded up the corridor. Then, slowly, the figure of Winlett sat up, his head swivelled trance-like towards the door, and the glazed lifeless eyes stared murderously out of their sockets.

In the Lab the Doctor was issuing orders. ‘Sarah, we’ll need hot water and towels! Stevenson, get more lights. Moberly, you have some medical training. You can perform the actual surgery.’

Moberly nodded and started to gather equipment and instruments on to a tray. The Doctor glanced at the clock above the door. Every second was vital. Not only Winlett’s life was at stake. Once the Krynoid organism was allowed to take root in one person, it was merely a matter of time before the whole of humanity fell prey to the lethal weed.

Moberly finished his preparations and made for the door. ‘I’ll take these to the Sick Bay and start setting up.’

‘Good man.’ said the Doctor.

Sarah glanced anxiously in his direction. ‘Do you think there’s a chance?’

‘There’s always a chance,’ said the Doctor quietly, but Sarah could tell he was worried.

Moberly walked carefully down the tunnel. The Doctor was right, they would need more lights. He hoped Stevenson could fix the transformer or something. He turned the corner near the Sick Bay. That was odd! The door was open. He crept forward the last few paces and peered in. The bed was empty.

‘Charles?’ There was no reply. ‘Charles, where are you?’

Moberly stepped into the room and put down the tray. As he did so something strange and cold, like a piece of wet seaweed, touched the back of his neck. He spun round. A hideous, semi-human shape lunged at his throat and started to throttle him. Gasping, Moberly sank to his knees. The pressure increased. He couldn’t breathe! The room began to spin, everything was going blurred, he could not escape from the suffocating grip! Then, nothing but blackness, rushing and overwhelming...

Moberly fell to the floor, dead. The dark, monstrous shape rose from his body, glided like a phantom down the murky passage and slipped into the howling, stormy night outside.

Carrying an armful of towels and fresh linen, Sarah made her way towards the Sick Bay. As she drew near she suddenly felt a cold draught around her feet. Someone must have left an outside door open. She turned the corner and froze with horror. There, slumped in the shadows, lay the body of Moberly. One glance was enough to tell her the worst. She spun round. The door at the far end of the passage was banging on its hinges in the wind and snow had started to drift in. She shut the door and hurried back to the Lab.

‘Moberly’s dead.’ Sarah stood framed in the doorway, white as a ghost.

‘What?’ cried Stevenson.

The Doctor threw aside the tray of bottles he was preparing and darted out. In two seconds he was by the body. There was a faint green mark under the chin. ‘I found an outside door open,’ said Sarah. ‘Something must have come in.’

‘No, Sarah,’ said the Doctor chillingly. ‘ Something went out.’

He entered the Sick Bay. The bed lay empty and all around were clear signs that a struggle had taken place.

Stevenson shook his head. ‘You don’t mean Charles...’

‘... left after killing Moberly,’ finished the Doctor. ‘Only he is no longer Charles. He is an alien.’

‘An alien? I can’t believe it,’ cried Stevenson in anguish.

‘I told you he was changing form. Already his mind has been taken over. Eventually his entire body will alter.’

‘Into a Krynoid?’ said Sarah.

The Doctor nodded and turned to Stevenson. ‘Winlett as you knew him is already dead. For the sake of the rest of humanity we must destroy what he has become.’ He spoke gently but with finality.

Stevenson lowered his eyes, believing but not wanting to accept this terrible truth.

In the Crew Quarters the stranger with a beard was methodically searching the room. He found a rifle under one of the bunks and began to dismantle it.

‘What are you doing, Scorby?’ His companion spoke nervously.

‘I don’t like guns... in the wrong hands.’ Scorby tampered with the firing pin for a few minutes and, satisfied the mechanism was sabotaged, replaced the rifle carefully under the bunk.

‘I wish you’d stop acting like some cheap gangster. We’ve only come here to confirm the pod is something unusual.’

Scorby grinned. ‘You don’t think we’re going to fly back empty-handed, do you, Keeler?’

The small man looked genuinely surprised. ‘It’s the first you’ve mentioned... what are you planning?’

Scorby gave a nasty leer. ‘Tomorrow we dig a nice big hole in the snow—big enough for, say, five bodies. Then we fill the hole, take the pod and go home... No witnesses, nothing. Just another lost expedition.’

Keeler recoiled in disgust. ‘You’re mad! I won’t do that 1 ‘

‘You’ll do exactly as you’re told,’ Scorby tapped his pistol threateningly, ‘or else... I’ll just make that hole a little bigger.’

Keeler backed away and nearly collided with the Doctor as he came hurtling in, followed by Sarah and Stevenson.

‘Come on! We don’t have much time,’ the Doctor sounded impatient. Sarah and Stevenson hurriedly donned their snowsuits.

‘What’s the trouble?’ asked Scorby, quickly regaining his composure.

‘We’re going out.’

‘In this weather?’

‘Yes, in this weather,’ snapped the Doctor.

Stevenson crossed to his bunk and took out the rifle. ‘Ready!’

The Doctor eyed the weapon. ‘I hope that’s the answer,’ he said quietly, and led the way out.

Keeler turned anxiously on Scorby as the door slammed. ‘What the devil’s going on?’

‘I don’t know. They’re not going to build a snowman, that’s for sure.’ He stepped over to the door. ‘Come on. Now’s our chance.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To find the pod.’ He opened the door gently and, checking the corridor was clear, beckoned Keeler to follow.

Outside, it was very dark and a heavy snow was falling. Sarah noticed that although they had only travelled a few hundred yards the lights of the camp behind them were no longer visible. She shivered. The cold was already unbearable and constant flurries of snow prevented her from seeing more than a few feet ahead. She stumbled on behind the Doctor. He seemed oblivious to the conditions, pausing only once in a while to secure his hat. All the time he was scanning the endless expanse of snow.

‘No sign of any tracks,’ yelled Sarah.

Stevenson shook his head. ‘The wind covers everything in a matter of minutes.’