Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (14 page)

A wide window overlooked the Great Hall. Liesa, a prim, dark-skinned woman in her thirties, sat at the main control desk monitoring the proceedings below. A display unit gave the heart rates and electrical brain activity of each of the participants. ‘All subjects ready for termination.’

‘The necroport?’

The necroport had been activated twenty minutes earlier, to generate a sufficient build-up of energy. The dials on the panel wavered at the upper end of their safety margins. ‘Running at maximum capacity. Power fluctuations are within output parameters.’

Paddox addressed ERIC’s interaction terminal. ‘ERIC. Status report on the G-Lock power generators.’

>
Let me rest in peace
.

‘Report!’

>
Searching. File? Power generators functioning at full output. All systems performing normally. It’s all right for some
.

‘Excellent. It is now eleven fifty. The Beautiful Death shall proceed at midnight precisely,’ Paddox announced in clipped tones. ‘All operators to their positions.’

The door leading to the Great Hall hummed open and two
skullguards
jackbooted in. They were prodding a prisoner with their rifles. One of the guards also held what appeared to be a robot dog under one arm.

The prisoner, a gangly man in antiquarian clothes, took in the control room and grinned in delight. ‘So this is the control room, is it? How wonderful. Very clean, I like that.’ He crossed to where Liesa was working, and flopped into the chair beside her. ‘And this would be where you run the whole shooting match, am I correct? Hello, by the way,’ he said breathlessly, ‘I’m the Doctor, and my metal friend is K-9.’ The guard dumped the device on its side next to the Doctor.

‘Good evening, Doctor,’ said Paddox. ‘Our eminent neurelectrician. Or should I say, saboteur? You honour us with your presence.’

‘Hello!’ said the Doctor gregariously. He indicated the rifle butts aimed at his head. ‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.’

‘A necessary precaution. We can’t have you escaping again, now can we?’

‘Again? Quite, quite.’ The Doctor whispered to Liesa: ‘Who’s he?’

‘Doctor Paddox,’ she said.

‘Doctor Paddox! I’m delighted to meet you for, what, the second time, is it? I shall have to remember to go back and meet you for the first time. Doesn’t time fly?’

Paddox stared at him. ‘I trust that Metcalf’s guard did not detain you for long, Doctor.’

‘Not at all. As I always say, if you can’t escape from it all now and then…’ The Doctor attempted to stand up, but the guards knocked him back against the desk, winding him. ‘Tell me, why do you think I am a saboteur?’

‘I should have thought that was obvious.’

‘Well, I’m afraid it’s not obvious, not to me,’ the Doctor said. ‘Very little is, I find, these days. Would you mind putting some details my way?’

‘I do not have time for such matters.’ Paddox waved a casual hand. ‘Skullguards. Restrain the prisoner.’

One of the guards retrieved a set of handcuffs from the folds of
his
cloak. The other twisted the Doctor’s arms back behind him, pinning them to the base of the seat. The handcuffs clicked into place. ‘There is really no need,’ the Doctor winced, ‘I wasn’t going anywhere.’

‘You are fortunate, Doctor.’ Paddox made his final adjustments to the control panels. He brushed a gloved finger over the Doctor’s cheek and let it linger there. ‘You are in the ideal position to appreciate the largest ever Beautiful Death. The triumph of my career.’

‘Really?’ The Doctor revolved his seat to face the window by making a succession of small steps. He peered down his nose into the Great Hall. ‘I know what you’re trying to do, you know,’ he muttered.

‘What?’ Paddox dismissed the two guards with a wave of his hand; they stamped their heels and left through one of the interior doors. He regarded the Doctor with two ice-cold eyes. ‘What do you know?’

‘I know what’s going to happen. I wish I didn’t, but I do.’ The Doctor shuffled back to face Paddox.

‘You cannot possibly have the slightest idea what is at stake here!’ For a moment Paddox seemed on the brink of violence, but then exercised self-control, his chest heaving with the effort. He indicated the technicians at their keyboards, all viewing their scrolling screens of information. ‘We are treating 218 clients to the Beautiful Death. Every life sign is monitored and checked. We are in absolute control of the process. Nothing can possibly go wrong.’

The Doctor sighed. ‘Paddox, you’re making a terrible mistake.’

Paddox turned stiffly to Liesa. ‘Liesa. All systems checked and readied?’

‘Yes, Doctor Paddox.’

Paddox stepped to a vantage point overlooking the whole Great Hall. He inhaled deeply. ‘ERIC, commence the countdown.’

Cocooned in his casket, Hoopy strained his ears for the midnight chimes. As the G-Lock struck midnight, the necroport would
activate
, and the current would surge through the metallic headset killing him instantly.

He’d gone through it four times before. So why was he suddenly afraid?

> Area designation Great Hall reduced to freezing
.

Liesa checked the life monitors; the heartbeats were regular, the brain waves forming jagged lines across the oscilloscope screens.

The Doctor craned over to whisper to her. ‘Liesa, what do you know about the necroport?’

She looked around. Paddox’s attention was fixed on the Great Hall, and the other technicians were absorbed in their duties. ‘The necroport?’

‘How does it work?’

‘I wish I knew. Paddox won’t let anyone near it. He built it, and only he is allowed to operate it.’

‘But you must have some idea.’ The Doctor jiggled his chair closer to her.

‘If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. Besides, we only monitor the power consumption and life signs. Only Paddox knows how it actually works. We just follow his instructions.’

‘So you just press a few knobs, and everyone down there pops their clogs? That’s all there is to it?’

‘Effectively, yes.’

‘But don’t you have any scientific curiosity about how it all works?’ the Doctor asked indignantly. ‘I mean, what you’re doing is terrifying, it defies all natural laws, it should be impossible.’

‘No, Doctor. I don’t.’ Liesa glanced at the countdown. Three minutes to go. She turned back to the Doctor. ‘Do you really think something is going to go wrong?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The Doctor nodded despondently. ‘Dreadfully wrong. Something truly awful is about to happen.’

A chill slithered down Liesa’s spine. ‘But how do you know? How can you possibly be sure?’

‘Because I’ve seen the consequences. The consequences of
whatever
it is that Paddox is playing at.’

‘What do you mean? We’re treating a few tourists to a life-after-death experience, that’s all.’

‘Ah, but is that all?’ said the Doctor darkly.

‘What are you suggesting? That the necroport has some other purpose?’

The Doctor went all wide-eyed. ‘Well, it seems awfully generous of Paddox otherwise. All this effort, just to run a glorified theme-park ride? I mean, what’s in it for him? Hmm?’

Harken pulled his coat around him. ‘Is it me, or is it getting cold in here?’

‘No, it’s not you.’ Vinnie wiped his nose. His cheeks, nose, and sticking-out ears were turning red. ‘It’s brass primates.’

‘A temperature drop,’ Harken shivered, hugging himself for warmth. ‘Must be to preserve the bodies. While they’re… they’re…’

‘Dead.’

‘Exactly.’ Harken remembered reading something about it. The bodies had to be frozen to prevent brain damage, and then rewarmed after thirty minutes. Any longer, and reawakening would be impossible. ‘I must mention that in my report.’

Harken cast his gaze across the Great Hall. The last attendants left the chamber, shutting the main doors behind them, leaving them alone. Alone with 218 bodies. Shortly to become 218 corpses.

Each of the tourists lay silently in their caskets. The cold air had a musty quality about it. It brought back memories of the long hours he’d spent filming
Life in the Morgue
. Though the stone walls and claustrophobic roof were more in keeping for a crypt.

‘How much longer is it going to take?’ whined Vinnie.

‘Not long now.’ Harken checked his watch. It was difficult to read, his arm was shaking so much from the cold. The veins on the back of his hand were bright blue. ‘About two minutes.’

The Doctor fidgeted in his chair. His nose was itching and the handcuffs were chafing his wrists. He trundled the chair around to
take
in a view of the control room. From this position, he could see K-9’s head. The robot dog’s eye visor was activated. He was awake, good.

The technicians were concentrating on their panels of lights and computer screens. Paddox stood to one side, staring into the Great Hall, whilst Liesa remained focused on the life monitors.

>
Sixty seconds
, lamented ERIC. >
Block?

An odd fellow, that Paddox. The Doctor couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something strange about him. Haunted. Still, when Paddox had mentioned that he had met him before it had cheered him up no end. At least this wouldn’t be his last visit to the G-Lock.

Paddox fingered the main control levers, eagerly anticipating the moment when he would depress them and launch everyone in the hall into the great hereafter. One thing the Doctor had noticed was that villains always loved to have big levers to pull. Probably compensating for something.

>
Forty
.

‘Initiate brain-stem death,’ Paddox instructed Liesa.

The Doctor leaned back as far as the chair would allow. ‘K-9?’

‘Master,’ came K-9’s plaintive reply.

‘Shh. Can you burn through these handcuffs?’

‘Affirmative.’ There was a buzzing sound and the acrid smell of burning metal. The Doctor felt his wrists get hot as the handcuffs conducted the heat.

‘Ah!’ A sharp pain seared into the Doctor’s left thumb. A layer of skin had been taken off. He glanced around; luckily everyone was too busy to notice. ‘Be more careful K-9.’

>
Twenty. Data? Allow me the dignity of death
.

‘Brain-stem death initiated,’ said Liesa.

‘Apologies master. Request you keep hands still.’

‘Keep my hands still?’ spluttered the Doctor. ‘He tells me to keep my hands still.’ He pulled his hands as far apart as possible, to keep the chain taut. The heat around his wrists increased, nearly scalding him, and the chain slipped loose.

The clock tolled out its prerecorded chimes.

>
Ten and counting. Nine. Eight. Block? Six. Five
.

The Doctor brought his hands round to his front, rubbed his wrists, and scratched his nose. He watched as Paddox’s fingers tightened on the activation lever.

>
Four. Three. Two. One
. ERIC’s voice slurred. The final clock chime rang out and wobbled, the sound muddy, as though it was under water. Paddox depressed the lever in graceful slow motion.

For a moment, all was still. Then the necroport activated, and the flow of time recommenced.

In the control room, the life monitors all showed an identical image – a horizontal line. The steady blip-blip was replaced by a single, high-pitched note, and then the monitors switched off.

Paddox let his hand slip from the lever and approached the window. His reflection smiled back at him approvingly.

‘Necroport successfully activated. All life supports fully disengaged,’ said Liesa. ‘All 218 participants have been successfully terminated and are now flatlining. Life signs are at uniform double zero. We have a one hundred per cent fatality rate. Repeat, we have a one hundred per cent fatality.’

The lab technicians applauded.

Paddox basked in their appreciation. Liesa looked up from her instruments and returned the Doctor’s apprehensive expression.

>
I wish I could have a one hundred per cent fatality
, complained ERIC to no one in particular.

The spotlight slid along the row of caskets, picking out each lifeless body in turn. Small crystals of frost were already forming on eyelashes.

Harken shuddered. The bleeping of the heart monitors had stopped, and apart from the rumble of the necroport it was as quiet as… well, as the grave.

Vinnie finished his tracking shot across the hall and pointed his holocamera at Harken.

‘It is now one minute past midnight in the Great Hall,’ announced
Harken
, trying to disguise the tremble in his voice. ‘And all around me rest the lifeless corpses of the participants in the Beautiful Death. As the saying goes, in the midst of life we are in death.’ He rose to his theme. ‘Not a single living soul remains. But whilst their physical bodies lie in state, their spirits are elsewhere. They have gone on, to a place beyond death, to the flowerless fields of heaven.’

Vinnie’s camera was unsteady. It was almost shaking itself out of his hands, his fingers scrabbling for a grip.

A gust of wind caught the spotlights, rattling their casings.

‘What on Earth –’ swallowed Harken. The holocamera fell out of Vinnie’s hands and crashed to the floor. A blast of air picked it up and rolled it off the platform and into the gloom. Swelling in strength, the wind howled around the chamber, gathering and scattering any loose objects. Harken’s two arc lights crashed to the floor, plunging him and Vinnie into near darkness.

Harken could just about make Vinnie out in the blackness. The boy was holding on to the platform’s railing for support against the gale, his clothes flapping. His mouth was wide open as he yelled in fear, but Harken couldn’t hear him over the roar of the wind.

All hell had broken loose.

‘What’s happening?’ yelled Liesa, her cheeks wet with tears of shock. The Great Hall was being ripped apart before their eyes. The technicians had gathered at the window, palms flattened to the glass, gaping in terror at the chaos below.

>
Warning report. Environmental disruption in area designation Great Hall. Cause outside normal parameters. No such function
.