Doctor Who: Ribos Operation (13 page)

‘Highness, we are searching for one man in this warren,’
Sholakh protested. ‘We might search for days or even weeks and
still not find him.’

‘I shall not leave this planet until I have that Jethryk,’ the
Graff stormed. ‘Have you forgotten, my brave Sholakh—our
hunt for the saboteur in the Labyrinths of Knoss?’

Sholakh nodded. ‘Two whole months without a glimpse of
the sky,’ he muttered.

‘And finally a glorious success,’ the Graff cried with shining
eyes, staring round at his assembled Guards, impassive and
silent behind their armoured masks.

‘But, Highness, we had three divisions at our disposal on
Knoss; Sholakh reminded his Prince.

The Graff considered his commander’s objections. ‘So?’ he
demanded curtly.

‘So we should return and force the Seeker, the Priestess, to
accompany us, Highness,’ Sholakh said firmly. ‘Seems an
excellent suggestion to me,’ the Doctor remarked to himself.
Lying full-length in the niche with the horn of his ear trumpet
just poking round the edge of the opening, he was
eavesdropping on the distant but distinguishable argument
going on between the Levithian leaders. He waited impatiently
for the Graff Vynda Ka’s decision, knowing that with every
passing second Unstoffe was getting deeper and deeper into the
Catacombs with the priceless nugget.

‘Very well, Sholakh,’ the Levithian Prince eventually agreed.
‘We shall return and compel the filthy witch to lead us—even if
we have to break her legs and carry her. And if she fails, she will
die.’

Cramming the battered brass trumpet back into his pocket,
the Doctor peered cautiously out of the niche and saw the faint
glimmer of torches as the Graff and his Guards found their way
back towards the surface.

‘Time I joined the Levithian Army,’ he muttered, wriggling
out of the narrow tomb and jumping lightly down onto the
rubble strewn across the gully. He flashed his torch around,
scratching his head in confusion. ‘It’s all right. You can all come
out now,’ he called. ‘Then his eyes widened in horror.

Several of the tombs directly below his own hiding place
were completely blocked by shattered masonry fallen from the
tiers above. Frantically, the Doctor set to work to try and clear
the huge slabs away from the openings. Somewhere beneath the
mass of debris Romana, Garron and K9 were helplessly trapped
inside the ancient graves. The more the Doctor struggled the
more he began to fear that they would have to remain there,
entombed in the vast mausoleum forever...

As they struggled on through the maze of caverns, as quietly as
they could for fear of rousing any of the Shrivenzales from their
lairs, Unstoffe found himself unable to keep up with his nimble
guide and eventually he sank down on a boulder, his mouth dry
and his heart hammering furiously in his aching chest.

‘We m-must rest... so little... air...’ he gasped. Binro retraced
his steps and sat down next to him. ‘There must be a way up to
the surface somewhere,’ he grinned encouragingly.

Unstoffe undid his belt and set down the heavy pouch
between them, glad to shed the weight for a moment.

Binro stared at his panting companion with a puzzled frown.
‘How is it done? How do you run between the suns?’ he asked
shyly.

Unstoffe shook his head helplessly. ‘If we sat here for... for
the rest of our lives, I couldn’t explain.’ he mumbled. Binro
nodded sadly. Unstoffe reached into the pouch and pulled out
the nugget of Jethryk. It gleamed brightly even in the feeble
flicker of the horn lamp. ‘There is enough energy in this to
move us to many thousands of suns,’ he murmured.

Binro took the glittering stone and gazed at it with innocent
wonder. ‘There is so much to learn. We on Ribos must seem like
children to you.’ he whispered, turning the nugget so that it
reflected the lamplight in brilliant blue and silver flashes.

Unstoffe shook his head vehemently. ‘Only kids would fight
over a lump of rock,’ he murmured. Binro carefully handed him
the Jetlrryk. ‘You did not steal this from the Sacred Reliquary,’
he said in an awed, hushed voice.

‘No, it belongs to Garron. We arranged to meet in the
Concourse if anything went wrong,’ Unstoffe said quietly. ‘He
never showed up. He’s in dead trouble.’

‘Garron... the one who sent his voice through the air into
your hand,’ Binro guessed. Unstoffe nodded gloomily.’You are
worried about him,’ Binro said, his bright eyes full of concern.

‘We’ve worked together a long time,’ Unstoffe mumbled.
‘This would probably have been our last job. Only it isn’t ending
quite the way we planned.’ He shoved the nugget away in the
pouch.

Binro sprang up, his leathery little face smiling eagerly: ‘I
will go back and look for your friend and bring him here,’ he
cried. ‘Then you will be able to finish your work together.’

Unstoffe peered in amazement at Binro’s innocently
expectant eyes: ‘But... could you find your way?’ he asked,
doubtfully.

Binro nodded, his wizened body tensed in readiness.
Unstoffe was baffled. ‘You... you risk your life for a complete
stranger?’ he stammered.

‘For years I was reviled and jeered at,’ Binro interrupted,
‘until I even began to doubt myself. But you came and told me I
was right. Just to know that is worth an old man’s life.’

Binro held out his crippled hands in farewell.

‘Here, take this in case Garron suspects a trick,’ Unstoffe
found himself saying as he slipped off his wrist transmitter and
held it out. Before he realised what was happening, Binro had
taken the device from him and snatched up the lamp. Unstoffe
had no chance to change his mind before the elfin creature
darted away and was instantly swallowed up in the darkness.

‘Doctor, you realise that your clumsy behaviour nearly caused us
all to be killed.’

Romana’s protest startled the Doctor so badly that he let go
of the heavy slab of rock he was struggling to shift and dropped
it onto his foot. Hopping about grimacing with pain, he stared at
the slim white figure silhouetted against the light from Garron’s
torch as they approached him along the gully.

‘If you call that nearly getting killed, then you haven’t lived,’
he cried clutching his throbbing toes. Then he stood quite still
and frowned at them. ‘Why aren’t you both dead?’ he demanded
irritably, picking up his flashlight and shining it in their shocked
faces. ‘I absolutely refuse to believe in ghosts.’

With ice-cold calmness Romana explained how she and
Garron had managed to break out of the back of their niche
when the opening had become blocked, and how they had
escaped through the tomb on the other side into the
neighbouring gully.

The Doctor smiled. ‘I am delighted to see you; he cried,
‘although your unexpected resurrection almost gave me hearts’
failure.’

‘You appear to suffer from an unconscious death-wish
syndrome, Doctor,’ Romana retorted, brushing the dust out of
her hair and her robe with exaggerated ferocity.

Garron thrust his ruffled perspiring bulk between them.
‘May I remind you that we are supposedly searching for my
invaluable young colleague?’ he declared affectedly.

‘Who has in his possession an even more invaluable lump of
Jethryk,’ the Doctor added, whipping the Locatormutor Core
out of his pocket and adjusting the signal.

Garron threw up his hands and shrugged. ‘What is property
at such a time as this?’ he protested, watching the Doctor like a
hawk.

‘In grave danger of giving us the slip completely if this
gadget is anything to go by,’ the Doctor answered, handing the
bleeping Core to Romana. ‘I do hope you know how to work this
because I’m getting rather bored with it,’ he grinned.

Taking them both firmly by the arm, the Doctor pointed his
two puzzled friends in the direction of the Catacombs. ‘Now you
go that way and I’ll go this way,’ he said cheerfully, whirling
round and setting off in the opposite direction back towards the
city.

‘But where are you going?’ Romana asked.

The Doctor turned. ‘One of us has to keep an eye on the
Graff and I’ve just been unanimously elected,’ he chuckled.

Garron shone his torch at the Doctor. ‘You’re going back to
the city, and leaving us down here?’ he exclaimed suspiciously.

The Doctor nodded impatiently. ‘Well, off you go,’ he cried.

There was a disjointed whirring noise and K9 trundled
round a corner and ran straight into the Doctor’s foot.

‘And where have you been?’ the Doctor demanded, staring
resentfully at the creature’s dusty and dented bodywork. ‘No,
don’t even begin to tell me,’ he ordered as K9’s memory circuits
buzzed into life. ‘Just look after those two until I get back.’

‘Affirmative, master,’ K9 acknowledged.

With a flamboyant wave of his hat the Doctor spun round
and strode off along the gully in pursuit of the Graff Vynda Ka
and his retinue, without so much as a backward glance.

Romana and Garron stared at one another for a moment in
utter confusion. Then Garron indicated the bleeping
Locatormutor in Romana’s slim white hands. ‘Well, my dear,’ he
beamed, hitching Krolon’s laser-spear and charger unit more
firmly into his belt. ‘Don’t you think it’s time we got going?’

Just as they moved off along the gully, a fierce snarling
erupted from the shadows somewhere ahead of them. Romana
kept her eyes firmly in front of her and walked cautiously but
unflinchingly forward. leaving Garron to waddle behind her,
nervously dabbing at his clammy forehead and imagining all
kinds of horrors lurking in their path as they approached the
unknown perils of the Catacombs...

In the Concourse there was an ominous silence under the dull
emerald and orange dappled sky as the Graff Vynda Ka waited
for the Seeker to be brought before him. The Levithian Guards
in their gleaming black armour and tall helmets gripping their
laser-spears in heavily gauntleted hands, were drawn up
opposite the Shrieves in their clumsy fur and leather tunics
grasping crude pikes and short-bladed swords. The two squads
stared across at each other with mutual suspicion.

Suddenly a figure appeared bent double behind the line of
hovels between the pillars of the colonnade. It sped along from
hut to hut, pausing every few metres to peer into the square. It
was the Doctor—his scarf wound in a fat coil up to his nose and
his hat jammed low over his eyes. Just as he was about to dart
across the corner of the square and into the alleyway leading to
the Citadel, he saw the Captain of the Shrievalty appear under
the archway. The Doctor flung himself into the nearest hovel,
which luckily was empty, and peered out through a gap in the
tattered skin wall.

He watched the Captain stride across to the Graff Vynda Ka.

‘The Seeker will come—as soon as she has made
preparations,’ the Captain announced sharply.

The Graff glared at him and pulled his cloak more firmly
around himself. ‘An Imperial Prince should never be kept
waiting,’ he said in a threatening undertone.

‘Gross discourtesy, Highness,’ Sholakh agreed, joining them.

The Graff Vynda Ka began to tremble. The veins stood out
like thongs in his temples and his neck, and he threw up his
hand to try to control the violent spasms in his twitching cheek.
‘Someone must be punished, Sholakh’ he screamed, snatching
the laser-spear from his Commander’s belt and stabbing the
primer button with his armoured finger.

‘Your Highness has every right to be angry,’ Sholakh
murmured, moving a pace or two away from his enraged master
as the whine of the charger died away.

‘I shall wait no longer do you hear! No longer!’ the Graff
shrieked pressing the discharge trigger.

There was a short sizzling burst of intense light from the
barrel of the spear and one of the Shrieves crumpled to the
ground with a strangled cry. For a moment the Captain of the
Shrievalty stared wildly around him, unable to grasp what had
happened.

‘An excellent shot, Highness,’ Sholakh said in
congratulation.

‘Not quite through the heart, I think,’ the Graff muttered
with a frown of irritation.

‘But still an expert shot,’ Sholakh said quickly, easing the
laser-spear from his master’s hands.

Slowly the Captain went over to the smoking body of his
dead Shrieve. He stared down at the blackened hole gaping in
its chest and at the rapidly welling blood spreading into the
matted fur. Then he turned and pointed at the Graff Vynda Ka,
stunned and speechless.

The Doctor took advantage of the diversion to creep out of
his hiding place and under the archway into the surrounding
alleys.

Shocked and frightened, the Captain finally managed to
speak. ‘You are not front the Upper Pole,’ he gasped hoarsely.
‘You are not... Who... What are you?’

‘I am impatient, Captain,’ the Graff snapped. ‘Bring the
Seeker here. Now.’

The Captain turned to his men. As he did so the air was
filled with the whine of the charger units as the Levithian
Guards levelled their spears at the cowering huddle of Shrieves.
Some of the terrified garrison dropped their pikes and covered
their eyes, while others clustered protectively around their
Captain.

‘Pathetic,’ the Graff snorted with a cruel grin of amusement.

‘Bring the Seeker,’ Sholakh rapped impatiently.

Slowly the Captain backed away from them. Then he turned
and hurried out of the Concourse followed closely by his
Shrieves in a disorderly babbling crowd. As they straggled out
through the archway the Graft turned to Sholakh with a smile of
satisfaction. ‘I flatter myself that I know how to handle these
ignorant curs,’ he muttered.

High up in the Citadel, the Doctor stared grimly down into
the Concourse and watched as two terrified Shrieves made a
stretcher out of their pikes and carried their dead comrade out
of the square. With a frown he glanced across at the strutting
figures of Sholakh and the Graff Vynda Ka, and at the neat
ranks of Levithians drawn up in strict military formation in front
of them.