Doctor Who: The Rescue (3 page)

Will call you in approximately sixty hours...’ There was another bleep and then silence.

Vicki stayed kneeling by the scanner listening to the hiss in the headphones and watching the mysterious blip on the screen. Then, remembering Bennett’s order and the advice from the
Seeker
to save power, she switched off the equipment and took off the headset.

She wandered over to the exterior hatchway and gazed up at the jagged ridge shimmering in the heat. ‘If the
Seeker
is sixty-eight hours away...’ she murmured, shivering again as if feeling a chill, ‘... then what is that out there on the mountain?’

Out of sight, in a large cave hidden inside the scree-strewn cliff which towered above the ruined settlement, there stood a bulky blue box. Its faded paintwork was chipped and the frosted windows around its top were cracked and filthy. Thick layers of dust clogged the ledges of its battered panelling, giving the object an air of great antiquity.

Only a dimly flashing yellow beacon on its roof suggested that the thing had any connection with the technological age. Its light threw eerie shadows which flitted across the craggy cavern walls. Otherwise it resembled a forgotten shrine to some barely remembered god, buried in a lost holy place.

But inside, the box was spacious, brightly lit and spotlessly clean. In the middle stood a low, hexagonal structure like an altar. It consisted of six angled panels sloping up to a wide transparent cylinder in the centre, all supported on a slimmer hexagonal podium.

The sloping panels bristled with buttons, keys, switches and all kinds of instrumentation, while the central cylinder was packed with a tangle of fluorescent tubes and delicate microcircuitry. The structure hummed and buzzed quietly while the cylinder fell with solemn dignity to a final halt.

Its contents oscillated slowly to and fro.

The white walls of the chamber were featureless, except for several sections composed of circular panelling, and a dark screen set in one of the walls. The wide gleaming space around the central mechanism was almost bare.

There was an old wooden coatstand with a hat, a walking stick and an Edwardian frock coat hanging from its branches. Nearby stood a flimsy wooden armchair in which an old man sat fast asleep with his head thrown back, snoring gently.

Facing each other across the humming mechanism stood a young man and a young woman. Their faces were anxious as they scanned the maze of instruments.

Occasionally they cast nervous glances at the forbidding figure in the chair.

‘That was quite a jolt, Ian!’ the young woman laughed uneasily. ‘I think we must have had a near miss or something. Let’s hope we’ve materialised safely after all!’

The young man gave her a relieved smile. ‘Yes, I think we’ve landed in one piece, Barbara. I must say I was scared this time. It’s not like the Doctor to sleep through a landing, is it!’

Barbara shook her head. She was a slim shapely woman with a mass of thick black hair worn in the high lacquered style of the 1960s. She had strong features, with firmly arched eyebrows and a wide mouth. Her tightly fitting black cardigan and slacks gave her a rather formal, austere air which matched her direct, independent manner. She marched over to the chair and put her hand on the old man’s shoulder.

Ian frowned suspiciously at the instruments on the control pedestal. He too was slim, but his dark hair was trimmed short with a neat parting in the mod style. His regular features gave him a somewhat conventional look, but his bright eyes suggested determination and a touch of mischief. In his short jacket and narrow tapered trousers he looked rather like a bank clerk.

The Doctor snorted, stirred in his chair and then opened his eyes and sat abruptly upright, squinting sleepily around him. ‘What’s the matter, Susan? What’s happened?’ he exclaimed anxiously.

The Doctor appeared to be in his late sixties. His long, snow white hair was brushed severely back from his proud, hawkish face. His grey eyes were pale but fiercely intense and his thin lips drew down at the corners in a disapproving way. The imperious effect of his beaklike nose, which gave him a rather remote and superior air was accentuated by his hollow cheeks and his flaring nostrils.

But his clothes were shabby. He wore a starched wing collar shirt with a meticulously-tied cravat, a brocaded waistcoat and a pair of sharply creased checked trousers.

The Doctor gazed inquiringly at Barbara. ‘Well, where
is
Susan?’ he demanded sharply. Then he seemed to recollect himself. ‘Good gracious me, did I fall asleep?’

Ian smiled sarcastically. ‘You certainly did – and at a very critical time, Doctor. I hope you’re feeling the better for it.’

The Doctor stood up yawning and rubbing his eyes. ‘Ah yes indeed... The arms of Morpheus!’ he said. ‘Well, dear me, I suppose I had better go and have a wash.’

Barbara pointed to the humming pedestal. ‘Doctor, the shaking and the groaning have stopped.’

The Doctor smiled sympathetically. ‘Have they? Good, I’m so glad you are feeling better now, my dear.’

‘No, no, no, Doctor... I mean the TARDIS has stopped.

We went through the most awful upheaval just now.’

The Doctor yawned again and nodded. ‘Yes, of course.

The TARDIS. How stupid of me!’

Ian sniffed rather disapprovingly. ‘Doctor, we seem to have landed while you were fast asleep!’ he said.

The Doctor frowned. ‘
Materialised
would be a more suitable expression, my dear Chesterton,’ he chided. ‘Good.

All we have to do now is turn everything off.’ He shuffled across to the pedestal and studied the mass of instruments.

‘Well, wherever we are it appears to be a nice warm day outside,’ he announced cheerfully, and fiddled with several knobs and switches.

The oscillating column in the centre of the pedestal sank and came to rest with a weary whine.

Stifling yet another yawn, the Doctor shuffled round the silent mechanism. ‘Oh dear me, I do beg your pardons.

Must be getting old...’ he muttered, peering at a set of dials.

‘Yes, it looks most promising out there. I think we should take a look.’

Barbara and Ian exchanged a wry glance.

The Doctor pressed a key and the screen on the wall flickered into life showing a dark, shadowy image in which nothing much was recognisable except for the flashing reflection from the beacon on the TARDIS roof.

‘Doesn’t look at all promising if you ask me,’ Ian objected. ‘It’s jolly dark. Can’t make anything out. Looks sort of rocky.’

The Doctor grinned sardonically. ‘Yes, Chesterton. We might be in a hole... or under the sea... or in a cave!’ he cried with obvious relish.

Barbara caught hold of the edge of the pedestal. ‘You mean we could be trapped, Doctor?’

The Doctor threw up his hands in protest. ‘Why do you humans always expect the worst?’ he exclaimed irritably.

‘It does not mean anything of the kind, young lady. You know very well that the TARDIS can pass through solid matter. We can dematerialise again whenever we wish.’

‘Then I suggest that we do just that,’ Ian muttered churlishly. Both he and Barbara had grown wary of the experiences likely to await them when they arrived somewhere in the the Doctor’s Time And Relative Dimensions In Space machine.

The Doctor looked down his nose. ‘I think we might just step outside for a moment. Get a little fresh air. After all, you young people need exercise!’ he declared roguishly.

‘Open the door, Susan!’

As soon as he had uttered the name of his granddaughter, the Doctor blinked, glanced quickly at the others and then gave a sad little smile of embarrassment.

‘How very stupid of me...’ he muttered, blinking again and grasping the edge of the pedestal. ‘Of course, Susan is no longer with us.’ His face hardened as he battled to resist the urge to give way to his emotions. He turned away.

There was an awkward silence.

Barbara cleared her throat. ‘Doctor, why don’t you show
me
how to do it?’ she suggested gently.

The Doctor turned sharply. ‘What a good idea, Barbara!’

he said gratefully. ‘That switch there – just twist it clockwise.’

Barbara did as he said and the door opened with a grating buzz.

The Doctor nodded. ‘Very good.’ Then he gave her a mischievous smile. ‘But do not try to do it when we are in
transit
,’ he warned. Shaking off his sadness, he strode over to the coatstand and took down the frock coat.

Barbara ran over to help him on with it. Then, while the Doctor adjusted the cravat under his awkward wing collar, she threw Ian a pleading look. Ian smiled and nodded and with a shrug of resignation followed Barbara and the Doctor to the door.

‘You were quite right, Doctor. We
are
in a cave,’ Ian said stepping cautiously into the dusty shadows.

Barbara sniffed the air suspiciously before leaving the bright security of the police box. ‘Strange sort of smell though. It’s not like anything on Earth,’ she pointed out warily.

Ian groaned and glanced at the Doctor. ‘Don’t tell us it’s not Earth,’ he pleaded despairingly. ‘So much for getting us home!’

The Doctor bent down to pick up an handful of the coarse colourful sand which covered the cavern floor. He sniffed it and pondered a moment. ‘It might not be Earth,’

he agreed, peering at the glittering grains in the feeble flashing light from the TARDIS’s beacon. ‘But I do seem to recognise the olfactory characteristics.’

‘Can you identify it?’ Barbara asked anxiously.

The Doctor let the sand run through his fingers, studying the sparkling trickle intently as it floated onto the toe of his boot. ‘More or less...’ he mumbled vaguely, obviously reluctant to admit that he was baffled, or that he had made a navigational error. He yawned exaggeratedly, rubbed his eyes and turned back to the doorway of the police box. ‘You two young things have a little wander around. But do not stray too far. We have not had much luck with caves on our travels together so far.’

‘What are you going to do?’ demanded Barbara.

‘I think I shall go-back inside for another little nap...’

the Doctor replied absently, shuffling through the door and disappearing.

‘A nap! That’s a new one!’ Ian snorted. ‘Usually he’s the first to go off poking his nose into things and causing trouble! And what about taking us home, Barbara? I don’t think the old fool’s got a clue where we are this time.’

Barbara stared apprehensively around the dark, dusty cavern and then shrugged. ‘Perhaps he’s just tired,’ she suggested, trying to sound unconcerned.

‘Well, he’s certainly not getting any younger, is he! He’s never slept through a
landing
before.’

The hinges on the TARDIS door creaked as the Doctor poked his head out. ‘
Materialisation
,’ he corrected sternly.

‘Chesterton, I may be getting on a bit, but I am not deaf. I can hear everything you say. Pass me that chunk of rock, please.’

Blushing with shame, Ian handed the Doctor a large irregular lump of glassy rock lying by his foot. With a curt nod, the old man ducked back into the police box and slammed the door.

‘I think it’s probably Susan...’ Barbara explained quietly, trying to smooth Ian’s ruffled feelings. ‘He probably wants just to be alone for a while in the TARDIS with all his memories. I mean, we can’t expect him to say goodbye to Susan in a different time, and then shrug it off just like that.’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Ian agreed grudgingly, turning and wandering cautiously towards a pale patch of light which looked as if it might lead to the mouth of the cave.

‘Anyway, I wonder what Susan’s up to now?’

Barbara laughed. ‘Learning to milk cows I expect,’ she said. ‘I hope she’ll be happy. David seemed a nice boy.’ She followed Ian as he felt his way round a huge buttress of crumbling rock.

‘I think this will take us outside,’ Ian said, leading the way through a short narrow tunnel that twisted and turned like a maze.

They could feel a hot dry breeze blowing on their faces and the light grew rapidly stronger. ‘At least the sun’s out by the look of things!’ Barbara cried cheerfully, seizing Ian’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s find out where we are!’

As they vanished along the tunnel, the cave behind them was suddenly disturbed by a scrabbling, scraping sound and by the muffled hiss of slow, laboured breathing.

Something moved in the darkness between the back of the police box and the wall of the cavern. Sand was kicked up and small rocks and stones dislodged and scattered across the dusty floor. Then the rough surface of the wall itself seemed to stir and move forward, as if some ancient effigy had come alive and was preparing to stalk out into the light.

The huge shape lurched awkwardly along the side of the TARDIS and emerged into the flashing strobe of the beacon in a sequence of monstrous staggers. It walked on two legs like a human, but its horrific head was like the head of some gigantic bird of prey or some colossal insect combined into an almost mechanical hybrid by an evil genius. Its great globular eyes glowed red, protruding at the end of thick tubular stalks. Its domed skull bristled with stubby antennae, some sharply pointed like probes or stings, others gaping open like suckers. The creature’s beak was guarded by two enormous horizontal fangs curving inwards from the sides of its squat, segmented neck. The horny carapace of its body glistened as if it weresweating a viscous oily gum. Its long simian arms ended in vicious pincers like the claws of a crustacean, while its feet were also clawlike but much larger, scouring and ripping the sandy floor with convulsive ferocity. The thing’s raucous breath seemed to issue from flapping leathery lips, forced through congested chambers and strangled tubing deep within the armoured chest.

The creature stopped to examine the silent police box.

Its glowing eyes tried to penetrate the dimly illuminated frosted panes. Its huge claws gripped the door and tried to tear it open. Then, with a menacing hiss, it swung itself round to face the tunnel, cocking its hideous head as if listening for its prey. Lifting its huge hooked feet high in the air with each jerking step, it slowly stalked across the cavern and entered the tunnel in pursuit of Barbara and Ian.