Doctor Who: Time and the Rani (9 page)

Confident of snaring the escapee, the Tetrap levelled its net-gun. A firework was lobbed high in the air . . . disintegrated!

Slivers of glittering foil cascaded onto the Tetrap, disorientating it. Blinded in all four eyes, the ungainly beast almost blundered into the Doctor.

Almost, but not quite - the spritely Time Lord nimbly stepped aside - and the Tetrap stumbled onto the exposed mine!

With a mighty
whoosh
, the 'bubble' encaspulated the Tetrap.

'I'm forever growing bubbles,' gasped the astounded Doctor.

'Come on!' urged Ikona. He knew the volatile sequence his firework had set in train.

'Behind here!'

The Doctor attained shelter fractionally before the 'bubble' detonated, obliterating the Tetrap guard.

'Where's Mel?' asked Ikona when the dust had settled.

He had to repeat the question: this Doctor, like all his predecessors, had an innate repugnance for violence.

'Doctor! Where's Mel?'

'Oh . . . Yes . . . Quite safe. She went with Faroon.'

Safe?

Paralysed by the venom from Urak's spitting tongue!

The fetid murk of the eyrie now had a solitary segment of brightness. White pants contrasting with the brown pelts of the dozing Tetraps, Mel's rigid form was hanging upside-down from the rafters.

Her eyes widened with revulsion as, next to her, a tawny membrane cape flapped while its owner dreamed a Tetrapian dream . . .

'Tell the Doctor he can have the girl in return for the microthermister he stole!'

The Rani, now dressed in her own scarlet clothes, was speaking to Faroon. She had been summoned to the arcade on the Rani's orders. Beyus was with her.

'Er - how will I find this Doctor?'

'You won't have to. He'll make contact with other Lakertyans, and try to stir up trouble.' A final injunction. 'And don't be taken in by his glib tongue.'

She flounced into the laboratory.

'Do as she says, Faroon.' Beyus sensed the reluctance in his consort. 'You know the price our people will pay if you disobey.'

Disobedience was not worrying Faroon. Beyus's welfare was.

'You would not try to escape as - as Sarn did?'

Beyus's reply was gentle. 'Faroon . . .I have obeyed all the Rani's commands.

Carried out the most menial of tasks. When she is so near to completing her experiment, why would I now take such a risk?'

'What happens then? When her work is finished?'

'She will leave Lakertya.'

'Will she, Beyus?'

'That was her promise.'

'And when she does?'

'Our fives will return to normal.'

'Normal, Beyus? . . . Without Sarn . . ?'

Understanding her grief, sharing it, Beyus escorted her to the exit.

'Deliver the message to the Doctor, Faroon. I believe you will find him in the Centre of Leisure.'

Argumentative and resourceful was how Mel had described Ikona during her brief reunion with the Doctor.

Well, the Doctor would be eternally grateful for the resourcefulness, but the verbal hassle was missing as the tall, young Lakertyan uncommunicatively led him across a brook.

Beyond the creek, carved into the sheer face of a towering mountain, was an intricate, abstract motif of pyramids. Although apparently at random, the composition conveyed a civilised harmony that contrasted vividly with the primordial landscape.

'Quite artistic,' said the Doctor encouragingly.

'We Lakertyans excel in decorative skills.' The trenchant irony did not invite discussion on local culture!

Several Lakertyans sauntered from an entrance tunnelled into the mountain.

'There's no restriction of movement then? Lakertyans can come and go freely?'

'Providing they obey the edicts of Beyus!' retorted Ikona. 'And don't try to get into the laboratory complex.'

Courteously and with an affable smile, the Doctor lifted his straw hat to a couple of Ikona's compatriots.

He was studiously ignored.

Disconcerted, he lingered.

Not Ikona. Unabashed by the lack of social graces, he continued into the Centre of Leisure.

Light twinkled and scintillated from the myriad polished surfaces of a huge, many-faceted globe. Suspended from the roof, it revolved like a mobile, its rhythm almost mesmeric.

Yet the globe was at odds with the dominant theme of the Centre, which appeared to have been designed by a devotee of cubism. A honeycomb of cubicles boxed in a plaza which encompassed a crystal clear pool. Fringing the pool, were terracotta statuettes decorated with ceramic silver fronds.

Gracefully-chiselled fish spouted fountains of water.

Many Lakertyans idly frequented the peaceful setting. Some occupied the cubicles, playing video and hologram games. Others, lounging on cushioned, swinging recliners, were immersed in strobic lights, listening to music through headphones.

Exotic frescos, plants and goblets of wine completed the hedonistic scene.

Strolling onto a gallery overlooking the plaza, Ikona paused until the Doctor joined him.

'Centre of Leisure!' Ikona declared sarcastically. 'Centre of Indolence!'

'Not a favourite haunt of yours, I gather, Ikona?'

'No.' He preceded the Doctor along the gallery. 'I can't imagine why Beyus told you to come to this place.'

'He said I'd find the answer to his subservience here.'

'From these spineless pleasure-seekers?'

'Why not?'

'It'd require effort, that's why. They've become spoonfed drones. There's no need for them to strive. An indulgent system provides all!'

They descended a staircase.

'Didn't Beyus give you any clue what to look for?'

'He was too anxious for explanations.' The Doctor peered about. 'Whatever the threat, it must be considerable.'

Bathed in a languid peach glow, the Centre exuded tranquillity.

'Can you see anything that's different? New?'

'Only that!' Ikona indicated the globe. 'Another pointless embellishment.'

'Mmmm. I wonder . . . Let's ask.'

'We'll be interrupting their pleasure!' Despite his scepticism, Ikona ducked into the nearest cubicle.

'Can you tell me -?' The player shunned him!

In the next cubicle, the Lakertyan did not even wait for the question before rudely snubbing Ikona.

'I did warn you,' he said to the Doctor.

'There's none so deaf as those who clutch at straws.'

'If you say so.' Ikona placidly accepted the mixture of proverbs.

Then: 'Lanisha!' Ikona called, delight in his greeting.

The young male Lakertyan's response was ambiguous: pleasure tempered by discretion. Nevertheless, they exchanged the Lakertyan salutation of pressing right palms together.

'Lanisha, can you tell me what that globe is for?'

'We've been forbidden to have anything to do with you, Ikona.'

'You're going to ignore your own brother?'

'I obey the orders of Beyus.'

In abject contrast, Beyus was not issuing orders but receiving them; and in a manner which paid scant regard to the dignity of his rank.

'Answer the . . . Mistress Rani . . .' croaked Urak contemptuously. He had found the burnt remains of the cremated Tetrap guard. He had also found the foil strips that he was thrusting at Beyus.

'Do you recognise these?' the Rani repeated her question.

Before replying, Beyus fingered the red and gold torque draped from his shoulder.

The torque was matched by a chain of red and gold beads. Both were symbols of high office.

'The foil strips are from the fireworks we used at our carnivals.' His use of the past tense was significant: carnivals and fiestas, an integral adjunct of Lakertyan ceremonial, had been prohibited by the Rani.

'This was fired at no carnival,' she reprimanded. 'It was used to enable the Doctor to escape.'

'Causing the . . . death of a . . . Tetrap . . .'

The Rani coded instructions into the monitor.

A graphic of the multi-faceted globe began to assemble on the screen.

'None of my followers would be responsible!' Beyus's consternation was heightened by Urak's snuffle of unadulterated bliss as the graphic took shape.

'You're careful not to deny it's the work of a Lakertyan.'

'You can't do this! It will be punishing the innocent!'

'Guilt by association. I warned you of the consequences of subversion.' She pressed a button on her minicomputer-bracelet. . .

The globe stopped revolving.

A hush filtered through the Centre of Leisure . . .to be broken by an angry, wasp-like buzzing.

Panic!

Game-players burst from their cubicles.

Loungers tumbled from their cushioned hammocks.

Shouts of terror blotted out the music.

All stampeded for the exit!

Ikona and the Doctor, not privy to the horror that was about to beset the Centre's occupants, were the only stationary figures.

Not for long.

The vengeance of the Rani would recognise no exceptions. . .

The buzzing intensified as a facet of the globe opened and four mutated hornets flew out.

In rapid succession, three of the hornets dived on three screaming Lakertyans.

A piercing sting. And the buzzing ceased.

So did the screams of the victims.

Recipient and donor died instantly: equal sufferers in the Rani's scheme of submission.

The Doctor and Ikona stood transfixed - until the fourth killer insect buzzed perilously close . . .

Galvanised by fear, they raced for the staircase.

The hornet kept pace!

Drew ahead.

Settled on top of a curtain and increased its buzzing preparatory to a final dive.

Cut off from the exit, Ikona and the Doctor presented choice targets.

But the insect swooped behind the curtain.

The buzzing climaxed.

Slowly the curtains parted - and Lanisha slumped to the gallery floor . . .

Ikona, dropping to his knees beside the body of his brother, was reproached by biting words.

'Do you still insist Beyus should noi count the cost of resistance, Ikona!' Faroon had arrived from the laboratory complex just as the four hornets had been launched. 'If every cell in the globe were opened, there would not be a Lakertyan left alive!'

The Doctor's puckish face wore a grim expression as he considered Faroon's words.

Only too well did he understand Beyus's servile acceptance of the Rani's subjugation.

'Doctor,' Faroon interrupted his reverie. 'I have a message for you. It concerns your companion, Melanie . . .'

15

The plateau, a grey flatness relieved occasionally by whirlygigs of sand from capricious wind eddies, was the chosen venue for the exchange.

With Mel beside him, Urak stomped and snorted impatiently. None of his elliptical quad views showed the adversaries with whom he had been sent to barter. Not that he would have accepted the conditions for the recovery of the microthermister. The Mistress Rani might believe this feckless Doctor was honourable, but what if the Time Lord was not afflicted by such a weakness? There could easily be an attempt to rescue the girl without returning the stolen component.

A straw hat topped a rise at the far rim of the plateau.

Urak snuffled.

The straw hat was lifted and waved.

Mel waved vigorously back.

'Let Mel come towards me!' shouted the Doctor. 'I'll keep my side of the bargain.

You'll get what you want.' He was not prepared to trust the Rani let alone this monstrosity whose origins and antecedents he had yet to discover: suffice it that the Tetrap was the Rani's acolyte and, therefore, tarred with her brush!

He saw the grotesque, snouted head nod and Mel start forward.

She passed, without recognition, the camouflaged drainage pipe.

'Now, Ikona! Now!' yelled the Doctor.

Levering himself from the pipe, Ikona placed the microthermister on the sand and sprinted after Mel. He wanted to keep a fair distance between himself and the possible range of the net-gun.

Netting the enemy was not on Urak's agenda. Pleasing the Rani was. Collecting the microthermister, he waited until Mel had almost reached the Doctor.

'So stupid . . .' he cackled, exposing pointed fangs in derision. ‘You are not. . . a worthy. . . opponent. . . for the Rani. . .'

'What's he crowing about, Mel?' The question ended falteringly.

Mel walked straight through him like a ghost!

The Doctor had been hoodwinked.

'What happened? Where's Mel?' asked Ikona. 'I saw her . . . and then she vanished!'

'It was a hologram of Mel.' A hologram is a three-dimensional image recreated by light manipulation so that the spectator is deceived into believing the image is a solid object.

'A hologram!' reiterated the Doctor, gazing balefully at the receding hulk of Urak. 'As substantial as the Rani's scruples!'

The substance, not the shadow, was being unhooked from the rafters in the eyrie.

Rigid, wide-eyed with fear and shouldered by a Tetrap guard, Mel was borne from the subterranean lair.

'As soon as the machine's operational, increase the brain stimulation.'

The Rani was speaking to Beyus. Having reinserted the microthermister, she was in the arcade checking the cabinets before reactivating the machines.

'But that would take them past the danger level,' said Beyus, concerned for the incarcerated geniuses.

'I'm in danger of missing the Solstice - which is far more critical!'

'The computer controls will need constant supervision. I can't manage alone.'

The eyrie grating clanged and the lumbering Tetrap carried the petrified Mel up into the arcade.

'So I've anticipated,' the Rani retorted. 'I've got just the expert for you.'

She snapped a capsule under Mel's nose.

Immediately a revitalising fit of ague quivered through the girl's paralysed limbs.