Doctor Who: MacRa Terror (9 page)

The same puff of air that had blown past Jamie, swept down the old mine shaft, stirring the fine, dry dust. For a moment Medok had thought he was about to die, but suddenly he was fully conscious again.

He was appalled to find he was still gripped in a pincer-like vice, with hard, scaley, claws harsh on his skin. But he seemed to be slipping away from them. He couldn’t understand it! He was able to kick himself free. The big eye flickered coldly at him, but the creature seemed powerless. The gust of fresh air appeared to have overwhelmed it.

Medok was dazed by his good luck. By rights he knew he should no longer be alive. But he didn’t stop to work out what had happened. He went slithering over the bony back of the great insect, and scrambled to the ground.

The Macra lay across the path. He could no longer make his way up the slope. He didn’t care... Just as long as he got away!

He headed off down the shaft, the half-light growing dimmer, leaving the creature sprawled on the ground, reeking of some foul substance, fighting to keep life in its disgusting body.

He kept up a steady trot for some time, then he suddenly realised that the path was climbing quite steeply... The air was getting fresher. His heart rose... In the distance he could see daylight.

Officia didn’t fully understand what the Doctor had been doing, but he was sure that, whatever it was, it was forbidden. ‘You’ll be reported for this,’ he warned. ‘If it wasn’t for this emergency...’

The alarm bell came to a halt.

‘What does that mean?’ asked Polly.

‘The emergency is over,’ said Officia, with relief.

‘So they’ve caught him?’

‘If they haven’t they soon will,’ he informed her. ‘Resume duties,’ he called over the transmitters.

The message could be heard in the Pilot’s room, while he interrogated Ben. ‘Why didn’t you tell Officia?’ he asked.

‘You told me to come and tell you,’ said Ben.

‘I see. Very well.’ He picked up the intercom and spoke: ‘The stranger is in the old shaft. Control will now issue new instructions.’

Control carne over the sound system immediately. ‘The old instructions still hold,’ carne the order firmly. ‘All guards will leave the area of the old shaft. No one is to go near it... Don’t search for the stranger there. Do not approach its exit or entrance. Do not go in.’

The Pilot was taken aback. He spoke into the transmitter. ‘We will obey.’

‘Officials are to stand by at the Gas Centre,’ added Control. There was hurried activity as the instructions were carried out.

‘You great big horrible beastie,’ said Jamie. ‘Did the
Devil
send you? That’s what it is. You’re a creature from the pit of Satan!’

The eyes followed him as he moved between it and the wall.

The Controller came on screen. ‘Prepare for gas to be diverted into the old shaft. Inspect the necessary connections and report as soon as this operation is possible. Top priority!’

Polly watched as Officia hurried off to carry out the instructions.

‘That’s where Jamie’s gone,’ she told the Doctor. ‘He’s in the old shaft.’

‘And they’re going to flood it with this gas of theirs... What do you think of that, Polly?’

‘They’re going to kill him.’

‘Control are not going to pump this poisonous gas into the old shaft just to kill Jamie. There are far simpler ways of solving that problem... They must have quite another reason...’

‘Doctor! We have to help him!’

‘Before we act, we must think, Polly... Let me see. My theory is that in the past – many millions of years ago, perhaps – these creatures, the Macra, lived on this planet. But something happened. Maybe the composition of the atmosphere changed, and gases natural to the planet at the time dried up, or some other factor altered and the elements of the world no longer produced the vapours necessary for this form of life. So they had to go underground where the gases were available. Later they found a way to return to the surface provided the gas was pumped to the surface... What they needed was a willing labour force to do that work.’

‘If it’s a life or death gas for them, why should they waste it? Why pump it to the old shaft?’

‘That’s obvious, Polly. They have something down there that they wish to keep alive.’

Polly looked at him with horror.

Part of the Macra lay across the path, blocking his way. Jamie couldn’t bring himself to climb over it.

He began to back off.

He heard the sound once more. This time it was definitely behind him.

He spun round, to see in the corner of the passage a second Macra lurching laboriously towards him! At the speed of a tortoise he was being sandwiched between the two grotesque beasts.

Officia reported back to Control. ‘All connections have been tested,’ he said. ‘They are fully serviceable. Transfer is now available for gases to the old shaft.’

‘Stand by to make the transfer,’ replied Control, while a musical jingle rang out: ‘The Colony is happy to obey, Control knows best... Control has only got to say... Just put us to the test.’

‘They don’t improve,’ muttered the Doctor.

Did he not realise how desperate the situation was? ‘Doctor! you’ve go to do something!’ cried Polly.

‘I’m doing my best,’ he protested. ‘I’m thinking at top speed.’

There was a glimmer of hope, thought Jamie. The huge creature shuffling towards him was going so slowly, making such a struggle out of it, that perhaps it was nearly as depleted as the Macra beside him. Perhaps it wouldn’t make the distance.

He pressed himself against the wall, trying to keep out of right. The laboured panting gradually carne closer.

The Doctor had a complicated puzzle on his hands. The mass of pipes, connections and dials created thousands of permutations.

‘Let me see,’ he said. ‘There’s a pattern involved in this. What’s necessary is to work out the basic combination so that the flow of gas... Ah!... Now if we were to follow this system...’

He juggled with the linking dials.

Behind him the screen lit up. ‘Stand by,’ said the Controller. ‘Gas officials are to make these changes. All gas is to be channelled through systems seven and eleven.’

‘Seven and eleven,’ repeated the Doctor. ‘Now which can they be?’

Officia carne over the intercom. ‘Channels are ready for use,’ he reported.

‘Prepare to turn at half-blast,’ said the Controller.

‘Preparation completed,’ said Officia.

The Doctor made his calculations at speed.

‘Turn on... Now!’ said the Controller.

The dials before the Doctor flickered and jumped dramatically. He checked them as quickly as he could. ‘I see... I see... So that is related to the power from there.’

There was a new sound in the shaft; a faint hissing noise, from further down the passageway; a chill wind – and there was a slight smell in the air. At first Jamie didn’t object; it disguised the stench from the Macra.

But suddenly he began to cough, and the huge creatures beside him seemed to give a shiver.

He moved back in alarm. One of its feelers jerked as though an electric current had run along it. The eyes started to flicker, coming to life with each fresh blast of wind.

The great sides heaved up and down.

Polly was desperate. ‘Please, Doctor... please!’

‘My dear Polly... There is always a logic...’

The voice of the Controller boomed out: ‘Pressure to be increased.’

The Doctor was making a frantic effort to follow the maze of equipment.

‘If this is the system in use, it would go from here to here... That would be the gas flow... their gas flow...’

‘Further pressure,’ came the voice again. ‘Another half turn... now!’

The sound of gas flowing through the passageway was clear and distinct.

Jamie knew now what it was and held his mask across his face.

The Macra twitched convulsively, and began to pull itself upright. Its feelers pushed from the ground.

Jamie backed down the corridor. The Macra took its first jerky step after him.

The Controller gave his final instruction. ‘Full pressure.. Now.’

‘Full pressure in action,’ replied Officia.

It sounded like a death sentence, and Polly felt there was no longer any hope.

The Macra was now taking jerky steps, slow but relentless, and as Jamie broke into a run he knew what would be waiting just around the corner of the narrow passage. He wondered whether he would be able to race past before it realised he was there. He stopped in his tracks. The second Macra was already barring the path about fifty yards ahead.

The pit head control room was Lshaped, and the Doctor was just out of sight from Officia at his desk. The latter, however, was too concerned with carrying out the Controller’s orders to pay attention to anything else.

‘Retain full pressure,’ ordered Control, and Officia anxiously checked the diais.

‘Full pressure is being maintained on the master control,’ he reported. ‘Further reserves are in readiness.’

The Doctor examined the maze of pipes which ran behind the safety panels.

‘Well, well... what function, do you suppose...’

‘What’s happening to Jamie?’ insisted Polly.

‘I hate to think,’ said the Doctor. ‘It won’t be anything very pleasant.’ He indicated one of the dials. ‘Go and look at the first dial on the control panel.’

She had no idea what he hoped to achieve, but Polly hurried to check it, calling back, ‘It’s at full pressure.’

‘And the second one?’ queried the Doctor.

‘At zero.’

‘Right,’ said the Doctor conclusively. ‘Then there’s only one thing for it. Plus must become minus, and minus must be made plus.’ He examined the pipes briskly then hesitated.

‘What’s the matter?’ called Polly.

‘The trouble is, which is plus and which is minus?’

Jamie was going to make a fight of it, so any weapon was better than none. A heap of rocks, and a couple of thick bits of wood. A primitive armoury but it might work... if he aimed at the eyes...

He threw the rocks with all his strength, and he heard the crack as they hit the outside shell of the Macra. It had absolutely no effect. They both continued to drag themselves towards him.

He looked round desperately. Behind him, the wall had crumbled away into a number of crevices. Jamie wedged himself into one. It might be too narrow for their claws to push into, and he might be able to protect himself against their long feelers.

The Doctor listened carefully as he tapped the pipes with a piece of metal.

‘What are you doing?’ shouted Officia.

‘Just checking,’ said the Doctor.

‘Then stop it. I don’t need your help.’

‘As you please,’ said the Doctor, ‘but I think you’re going to run into trouble.’

Officia was scornful. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

The Doctor began pointing out a number of items at high speed. ‘Ridiculous? How can you be sure? After all, it’s simple arithmetic. Three times three are nine. Those three over there... and that nine. And if you divide by half its own cubic capacity to the formula of pi over four squared... I’m quite sure you’ll agree with me...’ All the while he was hurriedly spinning the gauges and wheels which manipulated the pipes at various junctions.

Officia dashed forward anxiously. ‘Don’t touch that! It regulates the inflow system.’

‘Ah,’ said the Doctor. ‘So these are the inflow pipes, are they? That’s what I wanted to know.’

He now had the key to the problem that had been baffling him. Now he could go to work.

He hurriedly traced the pipes back to their source, turning off some gauges as he did so, and opening others. He was so spry and quick that Officia stood rooted to the spot.

While he worked, the Doctor chanted, ‘Inflow, outflow... outflow, inflow... high pressure, low pressure... and O.U.T. spells out!’

He was very pleased with himself as he bobbed backwards and forwards amongst the piping.

‘What are you doing, Doctor?’ Polly could make no sense of his actions.

‘Leave it to me, Polly,’ he called cheerfully. ‘Confusion is best left to the experts.’

Officia ran after him. ‘Stop that!’ he cried. ‘You don’t know what damage you’re doing!’

‘Rubbish,’ said the Doctor. ‘I can stand an operation on its head quicker than anybody.’

He viewed his handiwork with satisfaction.

‘There now,’ he added, ‘I think you’ll find I’ve revolutionised the entire gas flow of the Colony!’

‘You’re a madman,’ said Officia. ‘I’ll see you get locked up.’

The Doctor ignored him. ‘Have a look at those diais again, Polly,’ he called.

‘Something’s happened to them, Doctor. This one’s gone to zero.’

‘And the zero one?’

‘It’s at full pressure.’

The Doctor rubbed his hands. ‘Then there should be a fine old draught of fresh air blowing along the old shaft any time from now.’

It was hopeless to try to hide, and as soon as they came within striking distance the Macra flicked out their long feelers, whipping round the crevice, bringing a shower of stones and earth tumbling round Jamie. But as the snake-like tentacles sought him out, Jamie lashed at them with his heavy stick, keeping them at bay as they closed in. A moment later a claw scraped the edge of the crevice, and when he hit it with his stick the claw closed round it and tossed it away.

Another claw scraped at his leg. Jamie kicked out. The second time it just closed round his foot. He couldn’t move... he was being pulled from the crevice... slipping over the loose stones... holding on to anything he could grab... and then suddenly being swamped by a deluge of rocks and stones as they gave way above. He found he could move. His foot was free.

He went scrambling over the debris.

Officia raced after the Doctor, doing his best to adjust the dials. He was clearly having to deal with a maniac.

‘You can only delay matters,’ he tried to reason with the impish old stranger as he scampered from one section of the equipment to another. ‘I can reconnect the gas flow quite simply. Please stop what you are doing... you can change nothing.’

‘I thought you might like some assistance,’ called the Doctor as he warmed to his work.