Doctor Who: Galaxy Four (8 page)

‘Come on, come on,’ the Doctor panted. ‘They’ll be on us in a minute.’

He shot out into the waning daylight and turned for Vicki who had fallen behind, despite her younger legs. She was only seconds behind, but they were some two too many. Just as she was about to reach the exit a heavy metal grill crashed down before her. The Doctor looked on in consternation as she banged into it, taken too much by surprise to stop. Her face suddenly white, she grasped the entrapping bars. ‘Doctor!’ she cried in desperate fear.

The Doctor stepped forward and examined the bars. They looked solid, but he wrenched at them just the same. They were immovable and now the sound of the pursuing Chumbley was very close. ‘Hang on, Vicki,’ he said, looking about for anything that might help. His eye fell on a grill like the one he had examined on the way in. He was certain now that it was a converter for the ammonia gas the Rills needed for survival, so if he could not save Vicki immediately he might be able to in the long term with the aid of a little sabotage. Fishing out his screwdriver he crossed to the grill and started to unfasten it. The screws, tight at first, began to wind out. He grunted with satisfaction, aware of the need for speed.

‘Doctor, they’re nearly here,’ Vicki said anxiously. ‘I’m aware of that.’

‘What are you doing there?’

‘Trying to interfere with our big-eyed friend’s well-being,’ he said, moving on to the next screw. ‘Just try to stay calm.’

‘Calm?’ Her voice was climbing with fear. ‘I’d much rather you had another go at these bars.’

‘A complete waste of time.’ This screw was also coming free. ‘They’re as solid as rock, whereas this will do a lot more damage–eventually.’

‘I think that’s too late,’ she said in a small voice. ‘They’ve arrived.’

The Doctor looked up and through the bars to see Vicki still clinging on to them, but a Chumbley now beside her and pointing its gun in the usual meaningful way. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves.’

‘I’m not likely to,’ she said.

The Chumbley moved forward and nudged against her legs. She clung on to the bars and it did it again. Vicki clutched even tighter. ‘I think it wants me to go with it.’

The Doctor was philosophical. ‘Then your wisest course is to go.’

‘But that thing in there. I don’t think I can bear to see it again.’

‘Don’t look.’

‘I’m frightened,’ she wailed.

‘Listen to me, my dear,’ he said in a low voice as the machine nudged her yet again. ‘If you go along quietly and cause no trouble I’ve a feeling they won’t harm you. But play for time so that I can help you. I’m sure I can do something with this converter, but I need more than a couple of minutes in which to do it. Now be brave and do as I say, there’s a good girl.’

She nodded stiffly and released her grasp on the bars. ‘You will be as quick as you can, won’t you?’

‘Depend on it.’

She moved away down the passage, taking small and reluctant steps. The Chumbley went behind her, chittering so loudly now that it could almost be taken as crowing with triumph, though it occurred to the Doctor that it only seemed that way because such a small passage acted as an echo chamber. He watched until they vanished, then turned back to his work, conscious of what he had not said to Vicki: that he had no idea what might happen to her.

Steven lay in the padded corner and pretended he was sleeping, even though he had not dozed for a moment. He thought it better that way. Since he was not allowed to speak he might learn something by being silent, though he was inclined to doubt it. Maaga would reveal nothing of importance in his hearing and the others were privy to nothing. It was all very strange and all very well for the Doctor. He was used to whistling about through space and time like a demented flea and encountering weird life forms such as these were turning out to be, but he and Vicki were not. Steven did not think he would ever get used to it. Too many things occurred at the same time and most of them turned out to be troublesome. Nearly always the Doctor remained calm, interested and calculating, but even he was prone to tetchiness in certain circumstances. It was not unknown for him even to lose his temper. In fact it was becoming a familiar spectacle. Sometimes he was short on tolerance.

Steven’s thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Drahvin Two, still standing beside One near the bulkhead. ‘Maaga, shall we go?’

Steven watched as Maaga turned from examining her charts. ‘Where?’

‘To patrol.’

‘I see no need.’

‘We might be able to find out what his two friends are doing.’

‘No,’ Maaga snapped. ‘And besides, it is dark. You would see nothing.’

Drahvin Two looked at the ship’s chronometer, her voice as monotonous as that of a speak-your-weight machine. ‘We always go out on patrol at this time.’

‘But you are not going now. I made the routine for you to work to and I shall change it as and when I choose. You do not question my orders, you simply obey them. Anything else brings punishment, as you know.’

The two Drahvins exchanged uneasy glances with Drahvin Three, still on guard beside Steven.

Maaga moved away from her charts and surveyed her minions with contempt. ‘Soldier Drahvins! You cannot understand anything, can you? You’re made unintelligent and you remain that way all your lives. Why they insisted I bring you with me I shall never understand.’

Nor did she. She had emerged from her interview with the Minister for Offensive Research with the distinct impression that she was to be a sacrificial beast. Very smooth, the Minister had been, wearing the scarlet garments of the elite and with a half-convincing expression of trust on her face. But Maaga herself was one of the elite and wore the same dress when she was not in space. She knew that one member of the class was as capable of deception as the next and she had little regard for politicians anyway. They were always full of promises which were as empty of realisation as an upended bucket was of water. They cajoled, persuaded, scratched that back and bit this one and when things went wrong could always find something beyond their control to blame it on. And none of it mattered a pinch anyway. There was only one political party, so all votes cast served only to prolong the same regime.

Not that she cared a great deal one way or the other. Her work was in space and that was all that really mattered to her. But to be sent out with a crew of soldiers was insufferable. The Minister might as well have condemned her to indefinite exile on a barren planet for all the sense and companionship she got out of them. She admitted the necessity for them on Drahva. They functioned well, or as well as could be expected, but to send them into space was a nonsense. Their ability to reason was as close to nil as it was possible to get without actually hitting it, so the task of keeping the ship out and on course fell almost entirely on her shoulders. And she was growing tired of it.

She had told the Minister that they were useless for space work, but had only received the reply that there were no other members of the elite she could spare for so long. Drahva was in crisis and all were busy with their own tasks. She had to do what she could. Maaga had experienced great difficulty in containing herself. All the damned soldiers were suitable for was the performance of elementary chores, or for killing. Beyond that their tiny brains could not reach. They understood fear of the elite and nothing else.

‘To conquer space,’ the Minister had said, ‘you will need soldiers. I will see that you have them.’

Well, she had done that and here was Maaga, engaged in a war and having, of all things, to depend upon males for help. It was incredible that she should have to turn to what were upon her planet mere slaves whose functions were severely curtailed. More than that, it was absurd. She was prepared to concede that the one they called Doctor gave evidence of intelligence, but the one lying there now seemed little more than an obstructive idiot, serving no more purpose than a Drahvin slave. There was no-one with whom she could share her thoughts and therein lay the nub of the problem: she had to think this war through alone. In the meantime she took exception to the fact that they were almost questioning her. She wondered if the disruptive one lying down had caused this with his wheedling, whining insinuations. She would have to do something about him soon, that was plain. In the meantime order must be maintained.

She turned on her subordinates. ‘Certain things you must accept. You are bred to do so.’ Her voice hardened. ‘I am your commander, am I not? I am your controller.’

‘Yes, Maaga,’ said Drahvin Two.

‘And my orders are to be obeyed.’

‘Yes, Maaga.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you are our leader.’

‘And?’

‘You think.’

‘And you don’t know what that means.’

The two Drahvins stood in rigid silence, because indeed they did not. The reasons behind Maaga’s actions and words were beyond them. Their minds were as tranquil as puddles of oil, disturbed only occasionally by a stab of fear, and that caused only by Maaga herself.

‘Very well,’ Maaga said. ‘At least you understand that. Now understand this. There will be no patrol until I say so. We have a prisoner. Your duty is to guard him, because in order to save him the other two must give us assistance.’

‘May I speak, Maaga?’ asked Drahvin One. ‘If you must.’

‘I do not understand why they would want to rescue a friend.’

‘I do not suppose you do.’

The slight faculty Drahvin One had for thought crawled its way blindly through the empty whiteness of her mind. It found something and grasped at it. ‘We would not. We would leave her.’

Maaga nodded. ‘Yes, we would. But I have heard of beings like these. They help each other.’

‘Why, Maaga?’

‘I do not know. But sometimes, I am told, they even die for each other.’

Drahvin Three looked up. ‘Die? For each other?’ ‘Yes. There are many strange things in the universe.’

Drahvin Two said flatly, ‘I do not understand.’

Maaga sighed. The company of these idiots was beginning to grate on her nerves. If she tried to explain anything to them, even in the simplest of terms, it barely impinged upon their consciousness.

How she hated them. ‘I know you don’t understand,’ she shouted in frustration. ‘But despite that, you will obey orders!’ She paused as all three bowed their heads, then went on, speaking almost to herself. ‘It may turn out that we shall not have the chance to kill either the Rills or these Earth creatures, at least not with our own hands. It occurs to me that perhaps it would be better to escape in the Rills’ spaceship and leave them here. Then, when we are out in space, we can look back. We will see a vast, white, exploding planet. And we will know they have died with it.’

‘But we will not see them die,’ Drahvin One said.

‘You will not. But I, at least, will have enough intelligence to imagine it. The fear, the terror, the shuddering of a planet at the end of its life. And they will be gone, while we are out in space and free. But that is for later.’ She pointed at Drahvin One: ‘You will lie down and rest.’ Then at Two: ‘You will watch and wait for the Earthmen. And you,’ turning to Three, ‘will remain on guard over him.’

Drahvin One left for the inner room, Two crossed to an observation port, gun at the ready, and Three remained beside Steven. Maaga moved to look down at Steven.

‘He sleeps,’ said Drahvin Three.

‘But you will not.’

Three nodded obedience and Maaga crossed to the inner room to have a brief rest herself. Steven squinted up at his guard. Her set face and the gun in her hands promised little good for his future.

Vicki was now being escorted by two Chumblies, the original one nudging from behind and another backing away in front, its gun trained on her. In this way they traversed the passageway, Vicki’s heart thumping with dread at the thought of seeing the Rill again. Why had she not kept up with the Doctor, in which case she would be free now? The fact was that she had spent too much time looking over her shoulder and therefore bumping into the passage walls and she was now paying for it. Had she done as the Doctor had and simply run for it she would not be in this pickle. His aim had been simple: to get out. She had allowed herself to be distracted by fear.

The leading Chumbley backed in to the central chamber and Vicki reluctantly followed, her eyes averted from the viewport of the Rills’ ship. The less she saw of that the better. She was in no hurry to be presented with that sight again. But she could not resist stealing a quick glance. She sighed with relief when she saw the shutter was now sealed. At least that was something, not exactly a major step forward, but a source of relief, though she knew that sooner or later she would have to face up to it again. Postponement did no harm.

The Chumblies chittered and chinked for a minute or two while she waited in cold anticipation, then from the one in front of Vicki came the high-pitched sound she had heard before. It ceased. Silence fell. Vicki waited. She did not know if she was supposed to do something or not. If she was they would have to clarify. With those guns threatening her she had no intention of making any move at all, lest it be misinterpreted. That way lay the possibility of pain.

Again the high-pitched sound emanated from the Chumbley and yet again it stopped as suddenly as it had started. This time the machine twittered at her; it seemed to be waiting. Waiting for what, she wondered. Should she do a soft-shoe shuffle and hope for the best, or perhaps give them a quick burst of Shakespearian oratory? But the brief flash of gallows humour left her when the other Chumbley started persistently to nudge her from behind. What did it want now? She put up with it for as long as her patience would allow, then rounded upon it angrily: ‘Don’t do that! What do you want with me, anyway?’

At once the Chumbley ceased the nudging. Its lights began to flash in the visor and a series of strange sounds came from it. There were grunts, whistles, warbles, even shouts and she thought she detected what seemed to be a word or two somewhere amid the babble. Whatever the way of it, things seemed to be moving no further forward. All she could do was watch and wait while the Chumbley went through its self-inflicted agonies.