Doctor Who_ The Fall Of Yquatine Part 21

Part Four

As Long as Your Luck Holds Out

Chapter Twenty.

'I wouldn't stand too close if I were you'

The Doctor stood on the flight deck of the Anthaurk battle cruiser Argusia Argusia and tried not to feel put out by the decor. It wasn't easy: the Anthaurk were hefty, powerful, military-minded creatures and their ships were built to match. Everything was made of some tubular material which glistened like innards. The backs of the pilot's and navigator's seats reared up in front of him like tombstones. In front of them was a control panel packed with big levers and glowing green displays. The ceiling was a good twenty feet above him, crammed with snaking cables, ducts and lighting arrays which looked like cl.u.s.ters of Anthaurk eyeb.a.l.l.s. The whole area was washed in a disturbing blood-red light. The Doctor looked down at the back of his own hand. It looked pink, lurid, the nails shining pearly white. and tried not to feel put out by the decor. It wasn't easy: the Anthaurk were hefty, powerful, military-minded creatures and their ships were built to match. Everything was made of some tubular material which glistened like innards. The backs of the pilot's and navigator's seats reared up in front of him like tombstones. In front of them was a control panel packed with big levers and glowing green displays. The ceiling was a good twenty feet above him, crammed with snaking cables, ducts and lighting arrays which looked like cl.u.s.ters of Anthaurk eyeb.a.l.l.s. The whole area was washed in a disturbing blood-red light. The Doctor looked down at the back of his own hand. It looked pink, lurid, the nails shining pearly white.

Ahead, an oval-shaped viewscreen showed a virtual representation of what was outside, overlaid with tactical grids and readouts. Around the sides of the flight deck, Anthaurk sat or stood at their command posts, intent on their tasks. Their uniforms some sort of leather, no doubt made from whatever unfortunate beasts trod the plains of New Anthaur obviously hadn't been changed or cleaned for a while. The Doctor briefly considered having another crack at the paper on differing hygiene standards between species he'd started one rainy afternoon during his exile on Earth. Maybe he would, if he got out of this current situation in one piece.

The Doctor looked up at Zendaak, who was standing at his left, arms folded, red eyes inscrutable. 'You know it really is good of you to go to all this trouble.'

Zendaak didn't seem to have heard the Doctor. Instead he issued an order to modify their course and maximise speed.

They had left Aloysius Station without the consent of the President or the Senate, and were now a few hours from Yquatine. They may just be able to catch up with the specially prepared attack fleet. Unless they did, the crews of all twelve ships were doomed.

Zendaak's question came out of the blue. 'Why do want to save the Omnethoth, Doctor?'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'because I like to believe all life is sacred.'

Zendaak sneered, revealing sharp teeth. 'Ah yes, your liberal, life-respecting stance. But even accepting that all life is sacred, the Omnethoth are manufactured, not naturally evolved. They have no place in the overall scheme of things. Wanting to save them is like wanting to save a lethal virus manufactured in the bio-war labs.'

'Interesting point,' said the Doctor, glad that Zendaak had opened up. He enjoyed a good conversation. 'The Omnethoth have the potential for good. I can alter their DNA so that they'll be peaceful, benign creatures. I'll be giving the universe a new species, creating a new form of life. And that rather appeals to me.' Out of the roots of evil could come great good, et cetera. It was like thumbing your nose at the universal process, not that it could possibly care. 'But most importantly I want to prevent the ionisation attack, which would cause unnecessary deaths.'

Zendaak nodded thoughtfully. 'You're sure you can adapt the Omnethoth?'

The Doctor waved a hand. 'Oh, yes. Piece of cake. All we have to do is get hold of one. And are you sure you know what to do when the time comes?'

Zendaak nodded. 'We have been over the procedure a number of times.'

'It's important we get it right. And, while we're on the subject, why are you helping me?'

Zendaak looked down at the Doctor. 'I want no part in the madness of the ionisation of Yquatine. In helping you I hope to prove Anthaurk innocence beyond all doubt.'

The Doctor smiled. 'A n.o.ble motive.'

Zendaak appeared not to notice the sarcasm in his voice.

Maybe, the Doctor wondered as he stared at the Anthaurk's ballooning muscles on his thighs and upper arms, the three-clawed hand, the blunt, snakelike head, just maybe Zendaak's motives were altruistic. Maybe he really did want to help. After all, he had pulled all the Anthaurk ships out of the attack, which had angered President Vargeld, until Zendaak had agreed on the compromise measure of the Anthaurk fleet forming part of the protective cordon around Aloysius should the Omnethoth retaliate.

There was something else. Something the Doctor suddenly remembered. A memory of being smothered in choking blackness, breath surging from his straining lungs. Of his mind taking a back seat as something ancient and crude had taken over, using his voice to communicate its obscene, bombastic threat. Of collapsing, chest aching, the gas creature gathering like a cloud above him, preparing to unleash its deadly rainfall... And then strong arms lifting him to safety. Anthaurk arms. Zendaak's arms.

The Doctor reached out and touched Zendaak's shoulder, which was at the level of the crown of his own head. 'You saved my life! And I never even thanked you.'

Zendaak's great head turned and dipped, red eyes staring down at the Doctor. 'There is no need to thank me.'

The Doctor looked into the Anthaurk's widely s.p.a.ced eyes. staring from the black scales like fire from inside a cave. 'Well. thank you anyway.' He smiled and shrugged. 'Slightly curious as to why, though.'

Zendaak pointed with one arm at the forward screens. They showed a virtual image of the surrounding s.p.a.ce, the attack fleet a flotilla of red dots approaching a fuzzy green area that represented the Omnethoth domain, which had once been Yquatine and its moon. 'You revealed the true nature of that.' he hissed. 'Proved it has nothing to do with us.'

Fair enough. If unchecked, the Omnethoth infestation would certainly destroy New Anthaurk; that was proof enough of Anthaurk innocence.

But could he trust the creatures? Could he trust Zendaak? The Doctor looked around the bridge at the other Anthaurk at their stations. There were about a dozen of them, tall, powerful reptiles armed to the teeth and willing to die for their commander. He had no other choice but to trust them, at least for now. Play along with them. He had a suspicion that they would expect him to deliver the Omnethoth to them as a potential weapon. He'd better make sure that the changes he made to their genetic code were irreversible.

The Doctor forced himself to concentrate on the screen. 'How much longer before we reach the Omnethoth?'

'Another hour.'

Couldn't they go any faster? The Doctor tried to conceal his impatience, with only partial success.

Fitz backed away from Arielle, shuffling along the gritty surface of Muath on his backside, his mouth moving but nothing coming out.

This was the last straw. He could feel his mind trying to cope with it all, his left eyelid twitching of its own accord, his heart pounding. What the h.e.l.l was she doing here? He couldn't take his eyes off her face her eyes like black orbs, her mouth stretched back across her face like elastic. How could she breathe breathe?

There was nowhere to run. His oxygen tank was b.u.mping and sc.r.a.ping against the ridged wall of the crater that curved solidly to either side of him. Arielle stood, legs either side of his feet, her mouth opening in a wide O, surely wider than it was meant to. Her beauty distorted, warped, as if reflected in a broken mirror. Why hadn't she shot him, killed him like she'd killed Sorswo? Maybe there was something left of her, some trace of personality. 'Arielle,' said Fitz, his voice cracking. 'Whatever's happened to you, I can help. You're ill...'

His voice tailed off as he saw wisps of dark, black gas issue from her mouth.

Now he realised why she hadn't killed him. Whatever had taken her over was now going to do the same to him.

Suddenly she was yanked backwards and spun round by a black-clad figure which seemed to have come from nowhere. The figure wrested the gun from Arielle's hand, and, before Fitz could intervene, fired at her.

Arielle sailed through the air and landed on her back by the side of the spider-flower thing. She lay there, not moving, wisps of gas twirling round her head, her golden hair splayed over the grey rock. Fitz went to stumble after her, but then he caught sight of her a.s.sailant.

'h.e.l.lo, Fitz.'

The voice wasn't coming from his earpiece: it was inside his mind. And it was familiar. Standing before him was a woman with pale skin and ginger hair in a black cloak. She wasn't wearing a s.p.a.cesuit. She wouldn't be able to breathe.

She didn't need to breathe. She was Compa.s.sion.

Now he could go mad. Now he could give in, start laughing and never stop, let the starshine pour into his addled mind...

But that was not going to happen. No way. No way because he was far too angry.

He went over to Arielle. She was lying face up, eyes open. wisps of black gas running from her open mouth. 'You've killed her!'

Compa.s.sion came over to join him, looking down at Arielle with obvious disinterest. 'She's just stunned.'

There was something odd about her, a look in her eyes he hadn't seen before. 'You... you b.l.o.o.d.y... thing.' His voice was thick with sobs of anger. 'You tried to kill me. You abandoned me.'

She frowned in annoyance. 'I have just saved your life. Or hadn't you noticed?'

Fitz refused to respond to her sarcasm, letting his anger pour out in a torrent of words. 'You left me on a doomed planet and I've been in sodding prison for a month and why the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l couldn't you have turned up earlier?' couldn't you have turned up earlier?'

'If you only knew what I've been through to get here.' A sigh. 'You wouldn't understand.'

'Oh, fine!' cried Fitz, aware that his voice was cracking. 'Yeah, I wouldn't understand because I'm only human and you're, you're... I don't know what or who you are any more. Hey!'

She was ignoring him, was walking over to the spider-flower thing.

Fitz watched her through his spit-flecked faceplate and fumed. He opened his mouth for another tirade but why bother? What notice would she take of him? And, more to the point, did he really want to annoy the one person who could rescue him? He fought down his anger. There would be time to have it out with Compa.s.sion later, he hoped. Right now he had better play along with her.

He went to stand beside her. d.a.m.ned if he was going to apologise for his outburst, though. 'What do you think it is?'

Compa.s.sion was running her hands over the black skin. Close up, Fitz could see that it was covered in tiny pores and wrinkles.

'It's alive, in a sense,' muttered Compa.s.sion. 'This torus is an organic power generator, a giant living battery. It's been growing. for the past month or so, tended by our friend over there' She waved a dismissive hand at the p.r.o.ne form of Arielle and stood back, hands on hips. 'By now it must have stored up a colossal energy charge.'

Fitz stood back, gazing warily at the legs and tendrils of the thing. They were pulsing, tensing, as if in time with a giant heartbeat. He shuddered. It made him itch all over. What had Arielle to do with this? 'What's it for?' he wondered aloud.

Compa.s.sion licked her lips. 'It's a transmitter.'

Images of aerials and pylons flickered through Fitz's head. Nothing like this thing. 'For what?'

Compa.s.sion smiled grimly. 'It's a good job I turned up.'

She placed her hands on the skin of the transmitter and closed her eyes.

'What are you doing?'

'I have to destroy it. It's a transmitter for a teleport carrier beam. When it activates it will bring those black ships we saw.'

She said it so casually that it took a few seconds to sink in. A teleport beam... those black ships... raining acid death on to Yquatine...

Fitz stared at the transmitter. So this was it. The beginning of the invasion. How long had this thing crouched obscenely here, growing, pulsing, waiting to summon the invasion fleet? A dreadful thought struck him. 'What if you set it off accidentally?'

Compa.s.sion glared at him. 'Out of the question. I'm going to flood it with Artron energy, burn out its sensory network. I wouldn't stand too close if I were you.'

Fitz found himself taking a few steps back, turned to look at Arielle, only to see that she wasn't there any more. He glanced wildly around. There a silver blur vanishing around the back of the machine. He ran after her, loping in the low gravity.

Round the back of the transmitter, Arielle had sunk her arm into a flowerlike opening. The black skin of the transmitter started to ripple. Fitz stared at it helplessly for a second, then he lunged forward, grabbed Arielle around her waist and pulled. She was caught fast, up to the elbow in the guts of the thing. Fitz pulled harder. Suddenly she came free and fell against him.

They stumbled backward together. Arielle's hands were scrabbling at her throat and Fitz turned her round.

Her eyes were back to normal and bulging out of her head.

Compa.s.sion appeared by his side. 'We're too late. It's activated.'

Fitz shoved the convulsing form of Arielle at her. 'Take her in! She'll die!'

Compa.s.sion stood impa.s.sively as Arielle fell, clutching at her black robes.

'Oh, Christ, do it!'

Compa.s.sion shrugged, there was a white flash and Arielle was gone.

'Is she OK?' gasped Fitz.

Compa.s.sion seemed to consider for a second. 'Not by any definition of the word.'

A shadow pa.s.sed over them. Fitz looked up. The sky was full of dark oval shapes.

It had started. It was Treaty Day. The circle was complete. Somewhen about now, an earlier version of him was standing on Yendip Esplanade with an earlier version of Compa.s.sion watching the sky of Yquatine fill up with death.

Compa.s.sion was staring up at them, an absent look on her face.

Fitz, terrified of the threat of acid rain, all but threw himself at her. 'Let me in!'

Her smile was playful but her eyes were cold, dead things. He shuddered. Was she going to leave him here to die? Suddenly there was a flash of light, a falling sensation and he was inside the console chamber.

He reached up and undid the catches of his helmet. The cool air of the console chamber felt like heaven. He looked around the chamber. 'Where's Arielle?'

'Somewhere safe.' came Compa.s.sion's voice from all around him.

Fitz looked up at the roofs.p.a.ce scanner. The sky was full of the black ships and they were pouring out spined missiles which were plunging into the surface of Muath.

Fitz ran up to the console, gripping on to the railing. 'Compa.s.sion, dematerialise! We've got to find the Doctor!'

A sound came from all around him which was something like a sigh, something like an autumn wind rattling through bare branches.

Fitz put his helmet down on the grating next to the console. 'Compa.s.sion?'

Two words, small and packed with frustration. 'I can't.'

d.a.m.n her! 'You found me, didn't you?'

The chamber darkened and there were flashes of blue from below. Fitz touched his throat nervously, remembering how she'd cut off the air supply and almost killed him.

Compa.s.sion's voice came again, thick and low, as though she'd been crying. It struck Fitz then how calm Compa.s.sion sounded when you were outside her, and how unhinged she sounded when you were inside.

'I can't dematerialise or I would randomise into the vortex. No control. No control.'

Evidently she hadn't mastered the Randomiser. 'So how did you find me?'

'I was trapped in the vortex. Feels like I've been everywhere, every-when. Eventually I found a way past the Randomiser. I anch.o.r.ed myself to your biodata signature. Used it as a focus. But the Randomiser kept pulling me back. Had to keep rematerialising, getting nearer each time. Took years, decades I don't know know how long.' how long.'

Fitz sank to his knees. He didn't realise how she'd suffered. But he still had to know. 'Why did you abandon me in the first place?'