Doctor Who: Fury From the Deep (10 page)

Van Lutyens retorted, 'You should have listened to me, Robson. You should have...'

'I should have what? Turned off the flow? Spoiled a reputation of thirty years!'

'Reputation!' Van Lutyens could hardly believe the illogic of Robson's mind. 'Don't you realise that what's going on here is something totally outside your comprehension? That whatever it is that's in the pipeline, that's blocking the pump, that's taken over your rigs, is a threat, a menace to us all?'

Robson blinked his eyes at the Dutchman, but it was more of a twitch. 'Menace? Threat?' He burst into cynical laughter, even though it was quite obvious he was disturbed by what had happened, and was refusing to admit it. 'The only menace round here is you, van Lutyens. You and your friend Mr Harris there.'

The Dutchman and Harris exchanged a look of deep concern as Robson then rounded on the engineers. 'Well? What are you lot staring at?' he growled. 'I want this impeller in working order. Now get to it!' Finally, he turned back to Harris. 'I want to know immediately this impeller is in working order again. Understood - Mr Harris?' He hesitated for a moment, clutching his forehead as though he had a headache. Everyone was watching him, convinced that the Controller was beginning to break up under the strain of circumstances which he neither accepted or understood. With a final defiant glare at Harris and van Lutyens, Robson rushed back to the Control Hall.

Harris and van Lutyens exchanged a look of deep consternation. 'He's cracking up,' said the Dutchman. 'I think you'll have to take over soon.'

Harris shook his head. 'No, I've got to get back to my wife.' He turned to go, but van Lutyens caught him by the arm. 'Harris, you can't leave now,' the Dutchman pleaded. 'Can't you see Robson is losing control?'

Harris rubbed his eyes, which were sore with tension. 'My wife needs help... '

'Your wife will be brought back here to the Medicare Unit.

She'll be kept under close supervision.'

'Damnit, van Lutyens!' snapped Harris. 'I have a duty towards my wife...'

'You also have a duty towards this refinery.' There was a note of desperation in the Dutchman's voice. 'Listen, Harris. If Robson does crack up, as I think he's going to, then you are the only one with the authority to take over. We need you here.'

Harris was totally confused. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to the Chief Engineer, who had abandoned his struggle to re-activate the impeller pump. 'What do you think, Chief? You know Mr Robson better than any of us. How... I mean, d'you think he's fully aware of the situation?'

The Chief lowered his eyes uneasily. He had always tried his best to show loyalty towards the Controller, often under extreme provocation. 'Well, sir... Mr Robson's under a great deal of strain...'

'Exactly!' emphasised the Dutchman, thumping a fist into the palm of his other hand. 'Anyone can see that he's cracking up.'

'With respect, sir, you're not making it any easier for him.'

There was more than a hint of criticism in the Chief's reply.

Van Lutyens resented this. 'That's not what I'm here for. I come to give professional advice - Mr Robson ignores it! He knows rigs, yes. He knows much about engineering, but not all. And it is obvious he knows nothing about the state of mind of those men out there on the rigs!'

The Chief replied without looking up. 'Mr Robson was out there a long time, sir.'

Van Lutyens sighed with frustration. He felt he was getting nowhere with either Harris or the Chief Engineer. 'Yes, it is true.

Robson has great experience - of normal conditions. But these are not normal conditions. Something very strange is happening, but Robson refuses to accept the new factor, the unexplained factor.'

'So what do you think he should do?' asked Harris.

'I know exactly what
I
would do.' Van Lutyens hesitated briefly, then spoke directly. 'I would close the Compound and evacuate the rigs!'

The Chief exchanged a quick anxious glance with Harris. 'He'd never do it!'

'Can't you see, Chief?' argued the Dutchman. 'It's the only safe, logical thing to do until all this business is sorted out.' The Chief looked unconvinced. Van Lutyens continued: 'Look, we've lost contact with two of those rigs out at sea. We've got a major blockage in the main pipeline, a jammed impeller... we don't know what is causing all this trouble!'

Harris interrupted. 'But we regained contact with Baxter on Rig D. He said everything was under control.'

Exasperated, the Dutchman replied, 'And we haven't heard from him since! And what about Rig C? We've lost contact with them also.'

The Chief was beginning to run out of answers. 'It's probably a telecommunications fault somewhere,' he spluttered.

Van Lutyens pursued his point firmly. 'All right, so maybe it is. But my point is that we must at least check! Just as we must check the impeller valve at the base of the shaft. But Robson will do nothing! Nothing!'

Harris and the Chief Engineer looked at each other, clearly swayed by the Dutchman's argument.

'I suppose Robson might listen if we all put it to him,'

suggested Harris. 'What do you think, Chief?'

'There's some sense in what Mr van Lutyens says, sir,' said the Chief, massaging the tense muscle in the back of his neck. 'We should check.'

The Dutchman sighed with relief. At last there was a glimmer of hope.

In the TARDIS, the Doctor, Victoria, and Jamie were looking at a sketched drawing of a Weed Creature which the Doctor had turned up on the page of a very large, old and dusty reference book.

The drawing was identical to the Weed Creature Victoria had seen in the Oxygen Room at the Refinery: enormous bubbled tentacles emerging from a large mass of sea foam.

'That's it, Doctor!' explained Victoria, pointing nervously at the drawing. 'That's the same creature I saw!'

The Doctor looked subdued and concerned. 'Yes. I was afraid it might be.'

'But how did the picture get in this book?'

The Doctor was studying the drawing through a large magnifying glass. 'The book is a list of legends and superstitions.

This particular drawing is based on legends supplied by ancient mariners in the North Sea, probably around the middle of the eighteenth century.'

Jamie was dumbfounded. 'You mean this drawing is the same as the creature Victoria saw in the Compound?'

The Doctor looked up at Jamie through the magnifying glass.

It was a grotesque sight. 'I'm afraid so, Jamie.'

'And what about the clumps of weed?'

The Doctor put down the magnifying glass. 'I don't know. But there's obviously some connection between the weed and the creatures themselves...'

While the Doctor was speaking, Jamie's face suddenly started to curl. He was building up to a sneeze. '
Aah
...
aah
...'

Victoria looked anxiously first at the Doctor, then at Jamie.

'Jamie... Jamie, you're going to... to...'

'
Choo!
' Jamie's sneeze was deafening, and this was just the start. But before he could sneeze again, the Doctor suddenly yelled out frantically.

'Victoria! Look out!'

Victoria turned with a shocked start, to stare in horror at the seaweed specimen in the glass tank just behind her. It had grown to over double its size, its tentacles hanging menacingly over the edge of the tank, covered in white foam. And the thumping sound it made was like a human heartbeat.

Victoria screamed out loud just as the Doctor pulled her out of the way.

To everyone's amazement, the heartbeat sound stopped abruptly, the seaweed vibrated, and immediately retreated back into the tank.

'Jamie!' shouted the Doctor. 'Put the top on!' He quickly helped Jamie to replace the cover which had been forced open on top of the glass tank. 'Turn off the gas - quick!'

Jamie turned off the cylinder taps, and the sound of hissing gas stopped immediately. But the TARDIS was filled with an unpleasant smell, which caused everyone to cough and splutter.

'I was right!' said the Doctor, covering his mouth and studying the seaweed specimen now lying dormant at the bottom of the glass tank. 'The seaweed formations are feeding off the natural gas beneath the North Sea. But the gas they're expelling is toxic.' He looked closer at the specimen. 'And why did this stuff suddenly retreat back into the tank? Hmm, I wonder... ' He straightened up, and made for the door. 'Come on! We have to move fast!'

'Where are we going?' asked Victoria, edging her way cautiously past the tank.

The Doctor had already opened the door and disappeared outside. But his voice could be heard calling, 'I want to take another look at Harris's place!'

The seaweed specimen remained quite still in its glass cage.

After the Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria had gone, it began to throb with life again.

7

The Dutchman was clearly right about one thing. Robson was beginning to crack up.

'No, I will
not
listen!' yelled the Controller maniacally from the observation platform in the Control Hall. Everyone was watching him in astonishment: van Lutyens, Harris, Price, the Chief Engineer, the communications crew. 'It's you, van Lutyens, isn't it? Isn't it!'

Robson leaned over the rail to the Dutchman, his face contorted with anger. 'You've been trying to undermine my authority ever since you came here! You and Harris. You've been stirring up trouble round here just to get at me, haven't you? Now you've got the Chief on your side... ' He suddenly turned his bitter outburst onto the Chief Engineer. 'One of my oldest and trusted... I thought at least I could trust you!'

The Chief looked crushed. 'Mr Robson, all we want you to do is to...'

'I
know
what you want me to do - all of you! Every part of Robson's body seemed to be trembling, and his eyes seemed twice their size. 'You want to see me give up, don't you?' He laughed scornfully. 'Well, you'll never get that pleasure because... because...'

He stopped to look around at all the anxious faces watching him. 'All of you... all against me! Very well, if that's the way you want it, go right ahead! Go and join
Mr
van Lutyens and his gang of academic friends!' He scrambled down from the platform to look van Lutyens straight in the face. 'Go on, join him! But just remember - I'm still in charge of this... I'm still...' He stopped, squinted his eyes, and rubbed his forehead. But he quickly recovered and lashed out at the crew again. 'Get back to work! Get... What the hell are you all staring...'

He stopped again, then turned suddenly, and practically ran to the Compound entrance door.

For a brief moment after Robson's exit, everyone remained in stunned silence. Finally, van Lutyens spoke to Harris.

'Well?' said the Dutchman solemnly, 'You still think he's capable of running this place?'

Harris seemed in a state of shock. All he could do was to exchange a bewildered glance with the Chief, and shrug his shoulders indecisively. This irritated van Lutyens. There was nothing he despised more than someone who was unwilling to accept responsibility. 'All right!' he snapped. 'You can do what you like, but I'm getting in touch with my people in the Hague.'

'But what can they do?' asked Harris.

'I don't know. But at least they can push your people in London into some kind of action! That man, that fool - he is no longer sane!'

The Dutchman left Harris and the Chief deep in thought, unsure what to do. Then he hurried across to Price at the Control Cone and barked, 'Get me a direct line to Mr van der Post at Hague Central!'

Robson returned to his cabin and slammed the door behind him. He was thoroughly exhausted, drained of all energy. For a moment, he stood with his back leaning against the door, looking around his cabin. It was nothing more than a small, stark room, more like a ship's cabin than the living quarters of an Administrative Controller. But there was one human touch in the room. It was a small framed photograph on a cabinet beside Robson's bunk bed.

Robson pulled open his collar, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and crossed the room to take a look at the photograph. It was of an attractive young woman, Angie, Robson's wife, who had been killed in a car crash twenty-two years ago. Robson picked up the photograph and stared at it painfully. It was a time of his life that he would never forget, for, at the time of the accident, he himself had been driving the car in which Angie was the passenger.

Robson replaced the photograph, sighed deeply, then went and slumped down on his bunk, to stare aimlessly up at the ceiling.

In the corridor outside, someone was cautiously approaching the door of Robson's cabin. He was a sinister figure, small and fat, dressed in white cap, tunic, and trousers. It was Mr Oak, one of the two maintenance controllers. He moved silently, delicately, like a prowling cat in slow motion.

In his cabin, Robson's eyelids closed. He was finally succumbing to sleep.

Mr Oak had his ear pressed up against Robson's door. He could hear nothing, but knew what was going on. He smiled gently, and waited.

Robson sat up with a start, thinking he had heard a movement at the door. 'Who's there?' he yelled irritably. 'I'm not to be disturbed!

Go away!'

With a broad grin on his face, Mr Oak reached down and turned the key in the door lock. Then he moved on to the
EMERGENCY VENT
Control Unit on the wall, and operated the switch to
OPEN
.

Robson was lying on his back again, eyes closed. For a moment or so he seemed to be relaxed, and falling into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, his eyes sprang open, and were staring at the ceiling. He could hear a slight hum coming from somewhere in the room. The sound stopped abruptly, to be replaced by other, more menacing sounds. The hissing of gas, the thumping, pulsating rhythms of a heartbeat. Robson's face was running with sweat, his eyes couldn't focus properly. He began to cough and splutter as the gas started to affect him. He tried to sit up, but was too weak, and slumped back onto the bunk again. All he could do now was lie there helplessly, struggling for breath, listening to the overpowering sound of the heartbeat. Gradually his eyes began to focus, then opened wide in horror, transfixed towards the ceiling.