Doctor Who: Ribos Operation (5 page)

Romana cast her eyes upwards in despair. ‘If we shatter the
glass, the guard will wake up,’ she explained, as if speaking to a
young child.

‘Just as well,’ the Doctor retorted, feeling carefully round
the frame of the cabinet. ‘Sleeping on duty is a capital offence.’

Romana looked daggers at the Doctor’s back. ‘You realise
that your sarcasms are merely adjustive stress reactions,’ she said
loftily.

‘You are quite right. I really must see a doctor about it,’ the
Doctor replied. He spun round sharply. ‘Haven’t you brought
anything except that gadget you keep waving?’ he snapped. ‘For
goodness’ sake switch it off. It’s getting on my nerves.’

With that the Doctor wriggled underneath the cabinet.
Lying on his back in the cramped space he inspected the base of
the display. Then he extracted an enormous old-fashioned
corkscrew from his pocket and started poking about on the
underside of the wooden structure.

Romana walked impatiently around the chamber, glancing
from time to time to see what progress the Doctor was making.

‘Why are you taking so much time?’ she demanded at last
with a sigh of exasperation. The Doctor muttered an inaudible
reply. With a bored shrug Romana wandered over to the
rectangular opening in the wall of the chamber and peered into
the darkness beyond...

The Graff Vynda Ka was pacing around his lodging like a caged
panther, clutching the Mineralogical Survey Report in white-knuckled hands.

‘Rest, Sholakh?’ he hissed. ‘I shall not rest for one single
moment until I have won back the Levithian throne which is
mine—mine by right’

‘Indeed, Highness,’ his faithful military Commander
nodded wearily, ‘Ribos would be an ideal forward base in our
campaign. But to give the planet the necessary technology... to
train the primitives and create a force capable of reconquering
our Levithian homeland—all this could take centuries.’

The Graff brandished the Survey Document. ‘You are
faithful and brave, Sholakh, but you have no imagination,’ he
murmured. ‘Providence has put into my hand a weapon already
forged. If we can locate and mine the Jethryk we shall have the
means to raise a vast force of conquering mercenaries from
outside the Alliance.’ He grasped Sholakh by the shoulder and
fixed him with his burning, fanatical gaze: ‘Think of it,
Sholakh—in ten years we could return in triumph, our unjust
exile at an end...’

For a few moments Sholakh shared his master’s vision. Then
he gently disengaged himself and went over to the fire.
‘Highness, we are not experts,’ he protested quietly. ‘Even if
there is a vein of Jethryk on Ribos—we might search for ever
and still not find it.’

The Graff Vynda Ka stared at his Commander with the
faintest trace of scorn curling his upper lip. He held up the
document, his hands trembling with anticipation and
excitement. ‘You forget, Sholakh...’ he muttered through
clenched teeth. ‘Experts can be bought easily enough.’

On the flat rooftop of the Citadel Tower, high above the Relic
Chamber, a young Shrieve Guard damped a large skin sack and
a curious serpentine horn beside the trap. With a yawn, he
knocked back the locking tabs and grasped the thick iron plate
as if it were a featherweight.

‘Top of the day, my friend,’ hailed a sudden voice beside
him.

The Shrieve dropped the plate with a crash and leaped up.
Unstoffe quailed at the huge figure looming over him, and was
instantly yanked bodily from the flagstones and held by the
collar like a sack. Struggling for breath, he managed to pull a
small skin bottle from his furs and uncork it. ‘Fancy a drop?’ he
gasped, trying desperately to smile. He held the flask in front of
the hard, angular face of the young Guard who was staring
suspiciously at him. ‘It... it works wonders... against the cold...’
Unstoffe stammered encouragingly ‘... when I’m out in... in the
tundra every day at first... light... setting my traps...’

The Shrieve glanced warily at the skin bottle. Then he
grinned broadly. ‘You’re a trapper,’ he grunted, letting his
victim drop and seizing the flask in his huge hand.

Unstoffe nodded eagerly, thankful to have escaped being
strangled and flung over the parapet. Loosening his collar, he
gratefully gulped the freezing air.

The Guard took a swig from the flask and smacked his lips
approvingly. ‘Did you make this yourself?’ he grinned, blinking
several times and taking a few deep breaths.

Unstoffe nodded. ‘Have another...’ he suggested slyly.

With a chuckle, the young Shrieve took several huge
mouthfuls. His eyes began to water and sweat broke out over his
rock-like features as he clumsily handed back the flask to the
beady-eyed Unstoffe. ‘Any more of th... that and I’ll not have b...
breath to call the Sh... Shriven... venzale in for its feed...’ he
stuttered, slumping to his knees and straining to move the trap
aside.

‘Allow me,’ Unstoffe cried, bending to help. Together they
slid the trap open.

The Shrieve rubbed his bleary eyes and peered into the
shaft. ‘Is the b-beast there... I can’t see any...’ Swaying
unsteadily, he suddenly keeled over onto his side.

At once Unstoffe grabbed the twisted brass horn and
directed it into the dark shaft below the trap. He blew a long
rasping blast that echoed in the depths of the tower for several
seconds. Then he turned to the motionless bulk of the
unconscious young Guard. Above the tower, the sky was already
streaked with pale green light which increased every minute. He
would have to work very quickly indeed...

Romana flinched away from the dark opening beneath the
shutter as the ear-splitting blast of the horn was amplified in the
antechamber. ‘Whatever was that?’ she gasped when the echoes
had subsided.

‘End of the curfew no doubt,’ came the Doctor’s muffled
reply from under the Relic Cabinet.

Her curiosity aroused, Romana crept slowly back to the
rectangular hole and ventured through. As her eyes grew
accustomed to the gloom, she noticed the faint greenish glimmer
coming from the shaft in the ceiling of the antechamber. As she
stood there looking up, she gradually became aware of a very
slow rhythmic breathing reverberating around her. Then she
heard something move in the shadows as the tail of the waking
Shrivenzale twitched. Unable to move, Romana held her breath
and listened, screwing up her eyes in a vain attempt to penetrate
the darkness surrounding her.

As the Shrivenzale began to stir, its breathing changed to a
throaty growl and a harsh grating sound suddenly tore through
the darkness as its scaly underbelly dragged against the floor.
Romana stared wildly about, desperately trying to discover what
was happening. Suddenly she had a terrifying glimpse of razor-sharp teeth and needle-sharp claws. Panic-stricken she spun
round but saw to her horror that the shutter had begun to
descend, cutting off her escape into the Relic Chamber. Half
paralysed with panic, she forced herself to glance round once
more. The beast’s scales squeaked shrilly against each other as it
shook itself into consciousness. There was a nightmarish
snorting as the monster scented live prey within its grasp.

Her voice frozen in her throat, Romana flung herself round;
but before she could dive to safety through the rapidly
narrowing space under the stone shutter, she was caught as the
Shrivenzale savagely flicked its massive serrated tail, and hurled
her violently across the antechamber. For several seconds
Romana lay stunned at the foot of the wall, while the Shrivenzale
dragged its greedily panting bulk towards her.

Half-dazed, she saw that the shutter was barely a metre from
the flagstones. With a supreme effort she scrambled to her feet
and struggled frantically over to the dimly lit gap. Grasping the
lower edge of the falling block, she tried vainly to check its
descent. ‘Doctor...’ she gasped, as she felt the beast’s hot, sour
breath on her back. ‘Doctor... please...’

Suddenly the monstrous breathing paused and Romana
whipped round. her fingers slipping helplessly from the sharp
slab. Two enormous lizard-like eyes blinked at her hungrily, and
then with renewed savagery the Shrivenzale clawed at the floor,
sending up showers of crackling sparks all around her.

At that moment the Doctor’s head appeared through the
gap by Romana’s feet. He braced his shoulders under the
shutter and struggled to stop it descending the last fifty
centimetres to the flagstones. ‘Quick... Romana... Quick...’ he
gasped as the weight of the huge slab began to crush him like a
blunt but deadly guillotine.

Romana threw herself flat and just managed to roll through
the gap into the Relic Chamber before the Shrivenzale could get
its slicing claws into her body. She stared helplessly as the
shutter continued its remorseless fall with the Doctor
spreadeagled underneath it...

In the low-arched lobby outside the Sacred Relic Chamber, the
two Shrieves manning the winch turned to the Captain of the
Shrievalty in bewilderment: ‘Captain, the shutter will not close,’
one of them growled.

‘There most be some obstruction,’ the Captain frowned.
‘Take it up again—it could be the Shrivenzale.’ As he spoke, the
beast’s roars reverberated through the Citadel with increased
fury.

Straining at the winch, the two guards glanced at each other
apprehensively.

‘Now lower again,’ the Captain ordered, shouting to make
himself heard. This time the winch-handle turned freely until it
reached its ‘closed’ position.

The Captain unclipped the large key-ring from his belt. ‘It
most have been the beast,’ he shrugged, going over to the
massive doors of the Sacred Chamber. ‘I hope it is not injured.’

Romana clung tightly to the Doctor’s arms as they watched the
stone slab sink into its shallow groove in the floor, finally sealing
the Shrivenzale in its lair beneath the tower.

‘How did you do that, Doctor?’ she eventually managed to
ask, as the Doctor rolled his shoulders slowly back and forth to
ease the pain.

‘Oh, just a little Tibetan breathing exercise I picked up,’ the
Doctor said shrugging. Then he winced at the sudden sharp
cramps in his chest. ‘It’s amazing what one can do with a little
practice.’

Romana could not take her eyes away from the shutter. ‘I
never imagined... are there many... creatures... like that in the
other worlds?’ she asked quietly.

‘Oh, no end of them,’ the Doctor grinned, flailing his arms
briskly like windmill sails to restore the circulation.

At that moment Romana stiffened. ‘There’s someone
coming,’ she murmured.

The Doctor grabbed her by the arm and led her quickly
over to the doors: ‘This is no time for physical jerks, you know,’
he whispered. ‘Remember Rule Four...’ Pushing Romana to one
side of the wide doorway, he dodged across to the other side and
pressed himself flat against the wall, trying to hear what was
happening in the lobby outside.

‘Did you get the Segment?’ Romana mouthed.

For a moment the Doctor simply stared at his assistant in
disbelief. Then he shook his head.

‘Why not? You had plenty of time,’ Romana whispered,
exasperated.

The Doctor glared murderously. Just in time he stopped
himself from shouting a withering reply. ‘I happened to get
rather caught up in a little problem you were having—if you
remember,’ he mouthed furiously.

Just then there was a clattering and whirring of locks and
both doors swung slowly open. The Doctor and Romana were
hidden from view as the Captain entered, followed by his
Shrieves. The Guards formed a semicircle and everyone bowed
solemnly to the glittering treasures.

‘We give thanks for the new Dawn,’ intoned the Captain.

‘We give thanks,’ the Guards repeated.

‘And for the retreat of the Powers of Darkness,’ concluded
the Captain, raising his ceremonial mace.

‘We give thanks,’ the Shrieves again repeated. Then they
proceded to light the globes suspended around the chamber
using smoking tapers fixed to long poles. The Captain briefly
glanced at the Relics, and then went over to examine the tightly
closed shutter. The Doctor peered cautiously round the edge of
the door. ‘If we’re caught we’ll either be boiled in oil or fed to
that thing for breakfast,’ he murmured to himself, ‘so just stay
where you are and keep quiet, madam...’

Just then Garron swept into the chamber alone. He bowed
low before the Relic Cabinet, with a quick glance to see that the
nugget of Jethryk was safely in place. ‘Good lad, Unstoffe,’ he
breathed. ‘I give thanks for a safe journey...’ he went on in an
affected voice as the Captain came over to him and looked his
stout, fur-clad figure suspiciously up and down.

‘Where are you from?’ the Captain demanded.

‘I am from the North sir... from the Upper Pole. Just
arrived,’ Garron beamed, handing the Captain a document
bearing a number of impressive seals. ‘This pass authorises
myself and my colleagues to enter and leave the noble city of
Shurr without let or hindrance.’

The Doctor listened intently behind the thick door. ‘Sounds
more like a Knightsbridge accent all of a sudden,’ he murmured,
recognising Garron from their encounter in the passage earlier.

The Captain looked carefully at the seals. ‘From the Upper
Pole.’ He frowned. ‘Purpose of your journey?’

‘Trade Captain—I am a merchant,’ Canon explained, with a
condescending little bow. ‘The Outer Settlements need fresh
supplies.’

‘And you need fat profits,’ the Captain retorted.

Garron gave a cautionary wave of the hand. ‘Believe me, it is
no pleasure crossing the tundra during the Ice Time, with a
sleigh-train of valuable cargo—prey to all the wild creatures and
torn by that wind,’ he murmured, leaning confidentially towards
the Captain. ‘And some of those crevasses are several kilometres
deep...’ Garron let the effect of his words sink in a moment, then
he shrugged modestly. ‘Of course I am only in a small line of
business myself, but I have a colleague who is carrying a
substantial sum in excess of...’ and he whispered closely in the
Captain’s ear.