Doctor Who: MacRa Terror (10 page)

Officia lost his temper. ‘You’ll pay for this! And you already have enough to answer for!’ He didn’t want to broadcast his inability to deal with the stranger. But there was nothing else for it.

He ran to the transmitters and yelled, ‘Guard! Guard! Send guards immediately to my control room!’

The Doctor saw the security keys on his desk, and signalled to Polly. She grabbed them and locked the door, while Officia continued to send out his call for help.

She slipped the keys into the Doctor’s pocket. ‘They’ll get in sooner or later,’ she whispered to him.

‘The later the better,’ he told her. ‘The only thing we can do for Jamie is to give him time.’

The landslide came to a stop and Jamie found himself about head-high with the nearest Macra, looking into its baleful eyes. He had shot his bolt, and had hardly the strength to strike at the claw that fastened round him. He was being pulled from the rocks as he heard something like a storm blowing along the shaft.

The wind swept round them, fresh, blustering, reminding him of a south-westerly from his Scottish homeland.

He was amazed to feel the strength vanish from the animal holding him, and astounded to see the Macra collapse onto the floor of the shaft.

Jamie couldn’t believe it. The second Macra was gasping for breath. They ignored him as he scrambled past.

On every screen in the Colony the Controller’s face appeared. His voice had a new urgency. ‘Why has the outflow of gas stopped? Gas has to be supplied to the old shaft without interruption. Begin pumping again immediately!’

Officia was helpless. He could not keep pace with the Doctor as he tampered with every adjustment that was made.

‘I need help!’ Officia repeated over the transmitter. ‘The Stranger is here, and will obey none of my orders! He is to blame for the gas. He has switched the flow. There is surface air with additional oxygen flooding the system!’

‘Assistance has been sent,’ came the Controller’s voice.

A moment later Ola could be heard shouting, ‘Open up in there!’

‘My keys!’ Officia searched desperately.

‘Try your pockets,’ suggested the Doctor.

‘
You
must have them,’ shouted Officia. ‘You know where they are. Give them to me!’

‘Have you tried all those cupboards? The desk? Behind the pipes?’ The Doctor skipped round the room as he indicated the possibilities.

‘Open up, or we’ll smash it in,’ shouted Ola.

Polly watched the door shudder.

‘It won’t last,’ she said.

‘Come on!’ The Doctor began to hurry her away. ‘Time to be on the move.’

‘Not down there,’ she stopped him. ‘That goes to the mine.’

He took a quick look at the numerous doors. ‘Eeny-meeny... We’ll try this one,’ said the Doctor. It was locked. ‘One of these should fit.’

The third key turned in the lock. At the same time the outer door gave way. The crash as it was thrown back galvanised the Doctor into action. He grabbed Polly and shot ahead. They just managed to lock the door behind them when the guards began pounding on it.

It was a thick metal door. ‘That should hold for a bit,’ he said with satisfaction.

They could hear Officia shouting, ‘Get after them! Before they do any more damage.’

Only then did they see where they were.

It was a small room with a mass of piping. At one end a low arch led to a darkened passage.

‘What do you think this is, Doctor?’

‘It looks rather like a cupboard with a lot of pipes,’ said the Doctor. ‘Let’s examine the plumbing.’ He peered through the archway.

‘They have to go somewhere,’ said the Doctor. ‘Let’s find out where.’

Polly was apprehensive. ‘I think these pipes carry the gas.’

‘I think they do, too.’

‘Don’t you think we’d better stay here?’ She didn’t like the look of the darkened passage.

‘Good gracious, no! I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in a cupboard with a lot of pipes!’

‘But Doctor...’

‘I’m sure there’s no reason to be alarmed...’ He had a second thought... ‘Or is there? Ah, well... There’s only one way to find out. Come along.’

He stepped into the gloomy little passage with Polly following.

Jamie had no idea where he was going, except that he was putting distance between himself and the two animals. They had recovered once before, and might do so again.

He ran most of the way until he had to stop for breath, then waited, listening, but there was no sound from the dark mine shaft. The one thing he did notice was that the gust of fresh air had begun to slacken.

Officia worked quickly, tracing the damage done by the stranger, and adjusting the dials. He pressed the release buttons, and readings were back to normal. He gave a sigh of relief. ‘That’s done it,’ he told Ola. ‘If you pull the on-flow lever the flow of gas will start.’

Ola did as he was bid. The dials registered... the operation was in force again.

‘Let us hope we are not too late,’ said Ola grimly.

Jamie heard the sound he had heard before... the hiss of the gas pumping into the passage around him. He guessed what it was, and put his mask back on. He began to understand the purpose of the gas and how it functioned.

He had to go more slowly now, partly for lack of air, partly because the ground had started to rise steeply. He must be nearly back to ground level, he guessed.

There were a number of short passages off to the side and he had gone only a few steps when he saw a small grating at the end of one of them. It was old and rusty, and beyond was a glimmer of light. He began to tug at the metal bars. They were loose. He took a stone and hammered at them. One of the corners gave way. He started coughing again, and saw the gas was now white vapour spreading along the passage.

He got one hand behind the grating and gradually levered it from the wall. It fell away, leaving a space hardly big enough to let a man climb through, but nothing would stop him now. He struggled through the gap, scratched, bruised, but triumphant.

He seemed to be in an old storage space, an unused warehouse perhaps.

There was a door at the far end. He crossed, and was about to open it, when he heard the noise of singing, clapping and stamping.

He remembered what Ben had said about the old holiday camps back on Earth. They had been exactly like this.

He opened the door a fraction. He was at the back of a large hall. At the other end was a crowd of people, mostly young men and girls, and clearly all happy members of the Colony.

As he watched he realised what they were doing. A cheerleader was putting them through their paces, practising some kind of ritual that involved dancing and singing.

‘Cheers for the Colony, We’re the gang that works the hardest, Obey Control, Ring the bell...’

Another session, he thought bitterly, in which the ordinary members were being subjected to Control... Another way of exercising power over them – like the voices in the night. This Colony was nothing but a multitude of marionettes! The strings being pulled by someone – or something! – that they knew nothing about!

He was sorry for them. They were in a trap from which they could never escape... but at the same time they looked happy enough... dancing, skipping to the music, clapping their hands... and shouting as the cheerleader directed. Well, thought Jamie, he had known people like this; in fact, he could think of people who would be very happy here.

At the same time he looked cautiously round the hall. He was going to have to make a move.

The cheerleader called to his followers. ‘Very good. But let’s do it again. Don’t forget, it’s our job to inspire others. Our brave workers are doing a dangerous job. We have to encourage them. Right? From the top... “What do you know”?’

The rest sang out in reply, ‘We know Control is always right, And we must obey.’

‘Let them know, let them know...’ chanted the cheerleader.

‘Let them know we’re happy.’

‘Greet the morning with a shout!’

‘Everybody up, The sun is out.’

‘Rah, rah, rah,’ they chanted.

‘Splendid,’ the leader applauded. ‘That’s beginning to come together. It still needs a bit of pace... and I think that the girls...’

Jamie had a vague plan. He opened the door and stepped out. The whole room went silent as they saw him. Fortunately they didn’t seem to know who he was; they were quietly intrigued. ‘Who are you? How did you get there?’

‘As a matter of fact... I think I got a wee bit lost. You see, I was on my way...’

‘He must be one of the dancers,’ someone called out. ‘He’s got on his skirt.’

Jamie choked back a reply! However, if it would help him to escape, he would let them call his kilt a skirt.

‘Oh I see,’ said the leader. ‘You’re one of the dancers?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say...’ Through the window he could see a couple of the guards run past. ‘Well, yes,’ he said hurriedly, ‘that’s exactly what I am. One of the dancers.’

He hoped he’d get away with that, and be able to slip from the hall, but the leader drew him into the circle.

‘And you’ve got your dance ready?’

‘My dance? Oh, aye.’

The guards had returned the same way. He could see heads bobbing about outside. He needed time in the hope they’d move away.

‘Right. Lets see it then.’

‘Now?’ He was taken aback.

‘No time like the present,’ said the leader. ‘And don’t forget you have to be good to get into the Finals of the Happy Colony Dance Competition. We want something cheerful, happy, lively.’

‘Oh, aye,’ said Jamie. ‘Cheerful, eh?’

He was thinking fast, with one eye on the window. The guards seemed to be on the move.

‘Where’s your music?’ asked the leader.

‘I don’t need it,’ said Jamie quickly.

‘Right. Go ahead. We’ll pick up the rhythm and we’ll clap to it. On you go... Now!’

Jamie moved as near as he dared to the door, then cast his mind back to another planet...

He went into his dance with a
whoop
! and all the energy of his clan. It was a wild and spirited dance he remembered, and the onlookers were delighted, clapping and keeping time as they joined in.

Jamie made sure he finished up close to the door. There was now no sign of the guards.

‘That’s a very fine dance,’ said the leader, as the applause finished. ‘What do you call it?’

‘I call it a Highland Fling!’ said Jamie.

‘A Highland Fling? Why do you call it that?’

‘Because you finish your dance by flinging yourself out of the room!’

Jamie fitted the action to the word, and he threw himself out of the door to another round of applause.

‘Excellent... excellent!’ the leader called out after him.

There was a noise of a scuffle just outside the door, and Jamie was dragged back into the room by a couple of guards. They were followed by Ola. He glared at the assembly who were still clapping.

‘Silence!’ he shouted. He pointed to Jamie. ‘Where did this fellow come from?’

‘He’s one of the dancers,’ explained the leader.

‘He’s one of the escaped prisoners,’ replied Ola. He turned and called to someone outside. ‘You, there! Come in.

Ben moved into the hall. He looked a little dazed, frowning as he peered round.

‘Identify him,’ said Ola.

Ben turned to Jamie. He didn’t know what to say.

‘Is that the man you reported?’ insisted Ola.

Ben hesitated ‘Yes... that’s him.’

‘Gave me away again, did you, Ben? You’re a right good friend!’

‘Tie him up,’ ordered Ola. ‘Send a message to the Pilot. Tell him we’ve caught one of them, and it won’t be long before we have the other two.’

As they moved down the dark passage, Polly kept close to the Doctor, alarmed at the thought of what they might meet, and startled when the Doctor stopped just ahead.

‘Listen,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Voices... in the distance. Very faint.’

She could hear a familiar voice. ‘The search for the other strangers must be continued.’

‘lt’s the Controller,’ she said.

‘Exactly,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But where is the voice coming from?’

‘They have transmitters all over the place,’ she said. ‘But hardly in a place like this,’ said the Doctor.

The Voice continued. ‘All guards are detailed to hunt for the Doctor and the girl. They must be caught before they do any more damage. Dead or alive!’

The Doctor had his ear to the wall, and began tapping each side, examining them closely.

‘There’s a light ahead,’ said Polly.

A small window, like the porthole of a ship, allowed a little light to filter through.

‘No noise,’ whispered the Doctor.

He moved forward very carefully, making sure Polly was behind him, for he had already guessed what they might see, and he wasn’t sure how she might take it.

As they came just below the window... and it was indeed like a ship’s porthole, round and very thick – they heard the Controller’s voice again. ‘This is Control. The day shift is to begin work at once in the Emergency Pit. Pressures have been badly reduced on all gas reserves, and they must be maintained. It is a matter of life or death for the Colony.’

‘Not for the Colony,’ murmured the Doctor, ‘but for something else.’

Below the porthole was a metal ladder, the rungs embedded in the wall.

The Doctor helped Polly up, and there was room for both to peer into the room beyond the glass.

Polly caught her breath, choking back a cry of horror.

Inside were several of the Macra, their bulk filling the area beyond; close to the window one of them was operating an instrument. From where they watched the sound of gas percolating into the room could be clearly heard.

‘So that’s where the gas goes,’ whispered Polly.

The Doctor nodded. ‘These creatures would die without it. It is their original atmosphere, their oxygen, so to speak. They need to fill their lungs with it before they can exist for any length of time on the surface of this planet. They stoke up, so to speak, before they move out each night.’

Polly watched with disgust. ‘But they’re in control, Doctor. They
are
Control! How?’