Doctor Who: The Leisure Hive (12 page)

'Ultra high frequency sound,' he explained, replacing the flute. 'Only Foamasi can hear it.'

At the sound of the flute call the other Foamasi agents began their search for Klout. The flute had told them where to look. Klout was the sabotage expert. He would be found in that part of the Leisure Hive where his expertise would do most damage-in the corridors below the Great Recreation Hall, in the service areas where the main power lines, communication channels, and life-support systems were located.

Two of the agents caught him red-handed. He was in the act of placing a small explosive charge in the air-purification plant. Challenged to halt in the high-pitched series of whistles and clicks that composed the present Foamasi language, Klout acted swiftly. He threw the limpet grenade at the agents. Fortunately he had not yet primed the grenade, which therefore bounced harmlessly off the wall beside them.

The grenade distracted them long enough for him to draw his electric stiletto. But, before he could strike, one of the agents lobbed something that resembled a ball of white wool at him. The moment the wool touched Klout it unravelled, wrapping him in a tight white cocoon, like a butterfly or moth larva. Struggle as he might, Klout could not move a muscle.

The two agents carried the cocooned Foamasi up to the boardroom, where they found their superior in collision with Pangol.

Pangol was demanding that, since the false Brock and his henchmen had broken Argolin law, they should stand trial on Argolis. However, the senior Foamasi agent insisted that galactic law, not to mention Foamasi law, took precedence under the circumstances. As he pointed out, it was not until he had unmasked Brock that the Argolin were even aware that they had welcomed an impostor into their midst. Certainly they could try the criminals after they had served their sentences on one of the penal satellites of Foamas.

Mena was not disposed to argue the point. 'Let him have the two criminals,' she told Pangol. 'So long as they stand trial somewhere, what does it matter where?'

Romana and the Doctor accompanied the Foamasi to the shuttle bay.

'I must confess I was worried about the Argolin reaction to us,' remarked the senior agent, as they walked down the corridor. 'In view of our past history I was afraid we might meet a lot of opposition here. I am relieved it has all ended so satisfactorily.'

'If it has ended, observed the Doctor.

'Oh, I assure you that with the arrest of these two miscreants, Argolis will be in no more danger.'

'I wasn't thinking of Argolis.'

The senior agent paused. 'You think there might still be trouble?' he asked.

'Let's not cross any bridges until they're hatched,' replied the Doctor.

In the boardroom he would have found his worst fears confirmed.

Pangol was insisting that the aliens must not be allowed to leave Argolis.

'Why ever not?' asked Mena.

'They are spies.'

Mena wondered if the shock of meeting the Argolin's historic enemy for the first time had not been too much for Pangol. He was after all the only child of the Argolin. He had been brought up alone, without friends or confidants of his own age, amidst a dying population, it was not surprising therefore that he had become slightly paranoid.

The extent of his paranoia was to become clear only later.

Mena appealed to his reason. 'They are Government agents,' she said. 'You saw their credentials; you heard what they said. '

'You mean you actually believed all that claptrap?' sneered Pangol.

'Why should they lie?'

'Didn't it occur to you that theirs was just the sort of story you would invent if you wanted to provide a cover for your real purpose?'

'What purpose?' she demanded.

'The infiltration of Argolis.'

Pangol began to pace up and down the room, like a caged beast.

'It is perfectly clear,' he said. 'Those agents must have been sent ahead of the main Foamasi force to report on our defences. They broke into the Hive, and they have had every opportunity to discover our weaknesses. Once they report back to their Government it is only a matter of time before the Foamasi launch another full scale war.'

'But why?' she asked. 'Even if what you say were true, it must be obvious to the Foamasi that we constitute no threat to them.'

' Order the Foamasi to be detained!' Pangol commanded.

Mena summoned all her strength. She tried to rise to her feet, but the effort was too much for her. 'I am Heresiarch,' she said weakly. 'I decide the future of Argolis-not you. In this I will be obeyed.'

Pangol looked round the faces of the other Argolin, then he stepped forward and took down the Helmet of Theron from where it hung on the wall.

'Your time is over, old woman,' he said.

He placed the blackened duelling helmet on his head.

'All decisions are now in the hands of the great Theron.'

'No!' cried Mena. 'You must not wear the Helmet!'

'It is the symbol of Argolin power.'

'Theron worshipped war. It was through him that eventually we were reduced to the sterile, ageing creatures we are today.'

Pangol looked down on her, his eyes glittering strangely through the eyeholes in the helmet.

'We, Pangol, Child of the Generator, will fulfil Theron's dream of conquest.'

'How can you?' she asked, trying to reason with him. 'We have no army.' She turned pleadingly to the other Argolin. 'This is madness.'

Pangol spoke, his words echoing oddly from within the helmet: 'We, Pangol, will provide the greatest army Argolis has ever seen.'

The significance of his words dawned on her. She stared at him in horror. 'Do you mean that you have found a way to use the generator to... No, Pangol, I beg you—'

Ignoring her, Pangol turned to the other Argolin. 'Do you obey the great Theron?'

Old habits die hard. From forty years past the old Argolin military ethic reasserted itself. It was as if all those years of being polite to holidaymakers, of being the faceless servants to alien visitors, had fallen away. The iron discipline that had made the Argolin so feared throughout the galaxy gripped them and held them fast.

'An Argolin knight never refuses an order,' declared the Tenth Precept of Theron.

'An Argolin knight obeys his leader without question,' runs the Eleventh.

'To die gloriously in battle against the enemies of Argolis is the greatest joy an Argolin knight can hope to experience,' runs the Last Precept.

Vargos and the other Argolin, almost against their will, found themselves making the ancient salute which acknowledges fealty in time of war: they struck their left breast with their clenched right fist.

When she saw that, Mena knew she had lost.

The first sign the Doctor and the Foamasi had that the situation had changed was when the automatic doors leading to the shuttle bays suddenly closed in their faces.

'What's happening?' demanded the Foamasi agent.

'I don't know,' replied the Doctor.

Romana nudged him. 'I have a nasty feeling—' she said.

'We came to Argolis in peace,' protested the Foamasi. 'We came to save them from the depredations of some of our own criminals. It was a simple police action.'

'I'd keep trying to get that door open,' advised the Doctor. 'We'll go and see what the Argolin are up to.'

'Tell them that under galactic law we have fuH diplomatic immunity,' declared the Foamasi. 'Should anything happen to us my Government may feel duty bound to take military action.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Use your shoulders,' he suggested. 'Put everything into it. You might manage to get the doors open.'

Romana and the Doctor got to the Great Recreation Hall in time to see Pangol's entrance. He wore the Helmet of Theron and was followed by a procession of Argolin guides. They moved like zombies, ageing knights hypnotized by ghosts from the past. It was as if the great Theron once more commanded their lives.

Pangol paused and stretched wide his arms as if to encompass the extraordinary vista visible through the glass of the dome.

'Wait!' he cried. 'There is the Argolin dawn.'

Gradually a deep red sunrise of spectacular luminosity, lit here and there by green flashes of light, spread across the sky.

'It is the Dawn of the New Argolis.'

As the twin suns slowly rose in the northern hemisphere, Pangol cried out: 'The Rebirth begins!'

At that moment the Doctor collapsed. He slumped against a pillar, his face grey and lined. He looked like a corpse. But incredibly he was still breathing.

Hardin found them in the Great Hall. Romana was trying to revive the Doctor.

'We must do something,' she whispered. 'I don't think he can stand another attack like this.'

Hardin had an idea. 'The laboratory. It's the only place we might be safe. Let's take him there.

'Help me,' she said.

Together they half carried the Doctor to the elevator. They left Pangol, who still sported the Helmet of Theron, trying to whip the Argolin into a burst of military enthusiasm. While there was no doubt that the old martial spirit was still present in many of the Argolin, increasing age had taken its toll. A high percentage of his forces would never make the battlefield.

While Romana did her best to revive the Doctor, Hardin set up the equipment in the laboratory.

'You know I've been thinking,' he said, 'what we need is a second Random Field Frame. The one we've got just isn't powerful enough to hold the field stable until we get proper cellular rejuvenation.'

'Where are we going to get a second Field Frame?' demanded Romana.

The Doctor suddenly roused himself. 'The TARDIS,' he said.

'What?'

'Use the Randomizer. It's easily adapted.' '

Romana considered the problem for a moment.

Then decided against it: 'It's too risky.'

'It's my only chance.'

She knew it was true. He looked so old that she felt he would crumble to dust if she touched him.

Alone in the boardroom the ageing Mena watched on the video screens as Pangol strutted around the Great Recreation Hall. Wearing the Helmet he looked every inch the Argolin war leader.

'Guides of Argons,' he proclaimed, 'according to our ancient laws, we, Pangol, are now your leader. We are the future. For what is about to happen, and for the aeons that lie ahead, I demand-as is my right —your unquestioning obedience... '

'I must stop this madness,' she muttered.

Mena rose unsteadily from her chair and took a few tottering steps towards the door. Her legs gave way under her and she fell to the floor.

The faint sound of the elevator door closing caused Romana and Hardin to look up from their deliberations. They realized the Doctor was no longer there. She ran to the elevator, knowing she would be too late.

'I'll go after him.'

'No. I think I know where he's gone.'

She switched the video screen in the laboratory through to the Great Hall. She cut from camera to camera, until she caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar figure. She switched to a closer shot, and was rewarded by a sight of the Doctor shuffling towards the TARDIS.

'Oh, you fool! You crazy old fool!' she cried.

But of course the Doctor could not hear her.

Fortunately Pangol was in full flow. He had an attentive audience and had no intention of cutting short his peroration. His back was to the Doctor, who Romarta saw disappear into the TARDIS.

'The termination of our honoured Chairwoman, our late Heresiarch, is now complete,' intoned the new Argolin leader. 'We shall remember her wise guidance, her sense of justice, her moderation - all virtues appropriate to a time of reconstruction. But that time is past... '

Hardin stared at the screen, unable to take in . Pangol's words. 'What does he mean-Mena's termination? She can't be... surely she's not—'

Just as he left the laboratory she saw the Doctor again on the video screen. He was emerging from the TARDIS. He carried something underneath his arm. She saw that it was the Randomizer. He turned towards the camera for a moment, and she could have wept when she saw his face. It was the face of a tired old man who barely knew where he was. She could tell that he was on the verge of another attack. Only sheer will-power kept him going. He paused for a moment, then headed in the direction of the generator.

'No!' she cried when she realized his intention. 'Don't try and use the power of the generator! Bring the Randomizer here.'

The Doctor kept on going.

She wanted to look away. But it was like watching someone leap off a tall building. You knew you could not bear to witness the fall. Yet you stood, half-hypnotized, impelled to watch.

A Security guide entered and spoke to the self-appointed Heresiarch. The Foamasi shuttle was asking permission to take off. Pangol refused to give it.

'But, sir, they do have diplomatic priority,' said the guide.

'Not while I rule Argolis!'

The Doctor took advantage of the exchange to slip inside the generator.

As the door closed behind him, he seemed to lose his sense of purpose. For a long moment he looked round the black glass panels of the image chamber, trying to recall where he was. What am I doing here? he wondered. He frowned and closed his eyes, concentrating desperately on his mission. He had had a plan. But what was it?

H 'The anti-baryon shield,' he said at last. 'Yes, that was it. Wasn't it?'

His brain seemed to be composed of cotton wool. Where was the anti-baryon shield? His mind was blank.

He took put his sonic screwdriver and clumsily tried to remove one of the glass panels. But his gnarled fingers had no strength in them. At last he managed to loosen the magnetic catch on a panel. Yet still it would not come. He used both hands to prise it off-and lost his grip on the Randomizer. It fell to the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces.

The suns of Argolis had risen almost clear of the horizon when Romana reached the Great HalL Pangol was holding out his arms to the suns as if welcoming their rays. She knew she did not have a moment to lose. There was no time to create a diversion: no time for any clever plan. She ran through the crowd in the Great Hall straight to the generator.