Doctor Who_ The Mark Of The Rani Part 9

In the midst of a calamity, what sort of individual would be so diverted as to enquire about the composition of a metal? Recognising only too well the impulse, the Doctor beamed.

'George Stephenson, I presume.'

'Aye, I'm Stephenson.'

'An enormous pleasure to meet you, sir.' The Doctor lifted a shackled wrist as far as he could and Stephenson gripped the fingers in a warm handshake. 'Would you be kind enough to undo these straps?'

Stephenson complied. 'Forgive me. T'were metal that took my attention.' This was understandable. The t.i.tanium the Rani had used was not known in the nineteenth century. If it had been, many inventors would have benefited. Especially George Stephenson who was experimenting with steam engines and would eventually design the famous Rocket.

'Run, Doctor! Run!' Peri's warning preceded her panting arrival.

The Doctor looked back as he slid from the trolley. Jack Ward and the aggressors were returning to the attack.

Intent on slaughter, they would spare none of them.

'Quickly, we've got to get away!'

'Follow me.' Stephenson hared off.

Drawn by the racket of the fracas, Ravensworth was at the breached pit entrance surveying the shambles of the battle.

Ripped from its hinges, the gate was beyond repair.

Already villagers were drifting in. Ravensworth knew he could not count on their loyalty. Understandably. The attackers, however demented, were their kinfolk. His pressing task was to secure the mine area.

'On the gate!' he commanded a guard. 'No-one enters or leaves! That's an order!'

A second guard was rubbing his bruises.

'Here! Take this!' Ravensworth gave him his blunderbuss. 'Round up all the able-bodied men you can.

Search the pit. I want every one of those scoundrels hunted down!'

A crowd of bystanders surrounded a sentry whose wounds were being dressed by Luke.

'How bad is it?'

'Can't tell, m'lord. Lost a great deal of blood.'

'Where's Stephenson?'

'In't forge. I were on't way over when I heard noise.'

'Find him. Tell him to stay in the workshop until those ruffians are under restraint.'

'Shall I finish binding '

' Now! Now! ' On the double, Luke obeyed. ' On the double, Luke obeyed.

'You!' Ravensworth summoned the drayman. 'Make yourself useful. Staunch the bleeding while I get a bandage from the office.'

He stalked away. The guards watched his departure. So did the Master. His simmering fury fuelled his determination to extirpate his rival. He must get into the pit before its defences were rea.s.sembled.

Handicapped by her costume, Peri had difficulty in keeping up as Stephenson and the Doctor fled through a haphazard muddle of buildings, wagons, stables and loading bays.

'Come on, Peri! Come on! We haven't lost them yet!'

A predatory holler confirmed the Doctor's declaration.

Their pursuers still had the scent.

In a grain store, they disturbed a furry swarm of feasting vermin. Peri gulped, closed her eyes and ploughed on; she tried not to think of the long skirt brushing the floorboards.

They had almost reached the workshop when Luke blundered into them.

'Mr Stephenson, his lordship says-'

'Lift planks!'

Luke shifted a couple of planks at the rear of the workshop.

'Inside!'

Unceremoniously, Stephenson bundled Peri and the Doctor through the hole.

Scrambling in after them, Stephenson and Luke slotted the planks into their fixings.

The workshop's major exhibit was a prototype railway engine. Rough wooden benches claimed the rest of the limited s.p.a.ce. Jotted calculations and primitive tools cluttered their surfaces.

'His lordship told me to keep-'

Stephenson motioned Luke to silence. With bated breath, they listened to their pursuers thumping past. Only then did they relax.

'Somewhat unorthodox entry,' remarked the Doctor.

'Lord Ravensworth's notion,' said Stephenson. 'He thought we should be prepared lest the Luddite riots started here. Seems he were right.'

'Except these men are not Luddites,' came the Doctor's reply.

'They're not?'

'No. That's what you're meant to believe.'

'Then why did they attack thee?'

'a.s.sumed I was attending this meeting of yours.'

'And for that they were prepared to kill thee?'

'Afraid so. Not just me either.'

Luke knew this a.s.sertion to he true. 'That's what I were trying to tell thee,' he added. 'Tha's to stay workshop, his lordship says. He's feared for safety of thee and rest of visitors.'

'Tha' means Davy, Faraday, Telford and t'others are in danger?'

'Don't you?' asked the Doctor.

'Nay, I find that incredible!'

'If tha'd seen devastation at gate tha' wouldn't, sir.'

'You can't reject the evidence, Stephenson.'

Peri joined in. 'That's not the first time they've tried to kill the Doctor either!'

''Tis truth.' Luke's golden hair shone in the light from the wicker lamp that burned in the anarchic workshop.

His earnest young face wore a worried frown.

Stephenson began to waver. 'Dolt reckon us should cancel meeting?'

The Doctor was in no doubt.

'Luke?'

'Aye, sir. I do.'

Peri certainly thought so.

Stephenson capitulated. 'A pity.' He crossed to a bench.

'I suspect Doctor's contribution would've put cat among pigeons. Where's paper, lad?'

Luke ripped a sheet from a pad. Picking up a quill, Stephenson began to write.

'Fine. Now that's sorted out,' Peri said to the Doctor.

'Shouldn't we do something about the TARDIS?'

Paying no heed, the Doctor gazed around the workshop with its crude implements, and was consumed with respect for the inventor. Without the more refined equipment of Peri's twentieth century, George Stephenson's ingenuity would reshape existence on the planet Earth - provided, that is, the Master and the Rani could be foiled. It was a grim thought but not one that prevented him from being intrigued by the prototype engine.

'The Blucher, is it?' he asked Luke.

'Aye.'

'Doctor, this is no time to be playing trains!'

'Mind if I take a peep?'

'The TARDIS is at the bottom of that pit shaft!' Peri wasn't going to be tubbed off.

'We have to wait -' his voice became m.u.f.fled as he stuck his head into the boiler of the engine, ' until it's safe.'

'And that could be forever!'

Speaking quietly, Luke moved closer to Peri. 'When Doctor were attacked again...' he faltered, reluctant to hear the answer to his question.

'Yes, Luke?'

'Was did me Da' take part?'

Peri nodded.

'I asked me Mam about that red mark. On his neck. She knew nowt of it. She'd nay seen it. Dost know what caused it?'

Selfconsciously, Peri rubbed her own neck, recalling that she, too, was almost a victim.

Stephenson interrupted. 'Luke, take this to his lordship.' He gave him the note he had written.

'Dost mind if I also seek me Da'?'

'Of course not, lad.'

'Wait!' The Doctor crawled from under the Blucher.

'Luke, your father's not the man you knew. Take care ...'

Perplexed, the young apprentice left. Stephenson was also perturbed by the Doctor's warning. 'I'd nay like anything to happen to Luke. Lad's got great future. He'll outshine me.'

This final remark worried the Doctor. It bewildered Peri. 'You?' How could Luke Ward outshine George Stephenson? No-one had done that not according to the history books.

Stephenson continued. 'I were down pit at nine. Never did get much schooling. But Lord Ravensworth's seen to it Luke's been well taught. We've both great hopes for the lad.'

Little did he know how tragically forlorn these hopes were to be.

Having gained access, the Master was systematically searching the sprawling environs of the mine when he witnessed a dispute that suggested an entirely new strategy.

'Hey, Tim! Tim Ba.s.s! Hast seen me Da'?' Luke had spotted the marauding aggressor flitting between the sheds, obviously avoiding the guards.

The jaunty scarf was still tied about Tim's brow but his jovial manner had been banished. 'He'll want nowt to do with thee! Not as long as tha's lackey to that Stephenson!'

'But why? He's nay objected afore.'