Doctor Who_ Warmonger Part 21

Delmar and Hawken began discussing the details, but the Doctor was only half-listening.

He was thinking of Peri.

Chapter Sixteen.

Amba.s.sador Peri was lying stretched out on the bunk when the door opened.

She looked up and saw the General standing in the doorway.

She was still wearing the linen dress she'd worn all day. It was rather grubby by now, and so was Peri.

The General looked down at her disapprovingly. 'You should be washed and changed by now, my dear. My time is limited, you know.'

'All right,' said Peri listlessly. She got up and began unb.u.t.toning her dress, slipping it off her left shoulder.

'I do think it's terribly brave of you.'

The General frowned. 'Brave? What do you '

Suddenly he noticed that the skin on her shoulder was red-raw, suffused with an angry-looking rash.

'What's that?'

'It's the disease,' said Peri mournfully. 'Some kind of jungle-rot. That's why I was surprised when '

'But you were cured! You told me you were about to leave the Hospice. Solon said he'd operated for an arm wound and the operation was a complete success.'

'It was. But there was some kind of poison in the saliva of the creature that attacked me. It gave me this. Doctor Solon thought he'd cured it too but it recurred. Apparently it's some completely unknown variety of fungus. Solon says it's incurable.'

Peri lifted up her dress and showed him another inflamed patch on her thigh. 'There are patches like this all over my body.

Eventually they'll join up. When it reaches my face I think I'll kill myself.'

The General recoiled in horror, a hand going to his face.

'Got you!' thought Peri with savage joy. She'd been banking on the General's overwhelming vanity. He wouldn't risk spoiling his precious good looks.

'You must leave the ship at once,' said the General. 'I've an army to command: I can't risk being riddled with some terrible disease.'

It was what Peri had been hoping for. 'I understand,' she said. 'Just drop me off anywhere you can.'

'No time for that,' said the General brutally. 'I'm in a hurry, and I can't afford to make any detours. I'm dropping you off now.' He raised his voice. 'Guards!'

Two soldiers, the ones she'd seen when she awoke, came hurrying along the metal corridor. 'Prepare the escape pod, put her in it and send it off,' ordered the General. He turned to Peri.

'You'll have air, food and water for three days. We're still on the trade routes. Somebody will probably pick you up.'

He hurried away down the corridor.

The two guards looked at each other in amazement.

'Seems a waste just to shoot her off like that,' said the smaller one, 'Couldn't we just...'

Suddenly the General reappeared. Beside him was the thin man in black with burning red eyes the one she'd seen at the reception.

The General said, 'And don't touch her, unless you want to die a horrible death. She's diseased!'

The black-clad man whispered something in the General's ear.

'Certainly not,' snapped the General. 'She's contaminated, her blood would poison even you. Wait till the next planet and I'll find you a nice plump prisoner.'

They hurried away. It was all over surprisingly quickly after that. The guards, now as horrified as the General, herded Peri along the corridor at blaster-point until they came to a coffin-shaped door in the ship's hull with a control panel beside it.

The smaller guard touched a control and the door slid back.

It gave onto a coffin-like compartment holding a long low couch with a head-rest at one end.

'Inside,' said the guard.

Peri hesitated for a moment and then clambered in. Her scheme had worked rather too well. If she refused to go now, they'd simply kill her and jettison her body into s.p.a.ce.

As soon as she had settled on the couch, the door slid closed and everything started to vibrate. There was a sudden jolting sensation then absolute silence. Peri guessed that the escape pod had been discharged. She was drifting in s.p.a.ce while the General's ship went on its way.

She started to take stock of her surroundings. She was in a long, low, dimly lit compartment, shaped rather like the inside of a giant cigar-tube.

A narrow tube projected from the ceiling, its end close to her mouth. Compartments within hand-reach on either side held little packets condensed s.p.a.ce rations, thought Peri. She sucked cautiously at the end of the tube and was rewarded with a trickle of lukewarm water.

At the end of the couch was some kind of astronaut-type sanitary arrangement something Peri preferred not to think about.

A dashboard in the low ceiling held a simple com-unit and a steadily pulsing light. The light, Peri hoped, signalled that the pod was emitting some kind of distress signal. The com-unit was to make contact with any ship that came close enough.

If any did.

Peri ate some of the s.p.a.ce rations a peculiarly nasty kind of dry biscuit took another sip of water and settled back onto the couch. Strangely enough, she felt more resigned than frightened.

A ship would come, or it wouldn't. She would live or die, neatly packed in her own floating coffin. She would know in three days.

Three days...

Pert drifted off to sleep, wondering about the Doctor.

The Doctor stood by the entrance ramp to Lord Delmar's s.p.a.ce yacht, saying goodbye to Commander Hawken and Reverend Mother Maren.

Lord Delmar had generously loaned him the yacht so that he could travel in suitable style. He had also provided a set of amba.s.sadorial regalia, including a gorgeous blue and gold uniform, a white-plumed c.o.c.ked hat and a gold chain with a seal of office.

'I think you're safe enough for the moment,' the Doctor was saying. 'Morbius won't risk another defeat, he'll return in force.

But it will take him some time to gather that force.'

'By which time you'll have gathered a force to oppose him,'

said Hawken.

'I admire your confidence! I'll certainly try. Meanwhile, I'd put what forces you have on full alert, just in case I'm wrong.

And keep a guard on the Temple of the Flame. The Reverend Mother will give you her full cooperation, I'm sure.'

'We need no guard,' said Maren confidently. 'If the evil one returns, we shall know of his approach long before he arrives.

We shall deal with him ourselves.'

'Don't get over-confident,' said the Doctor. 'Psychic powers aren't effective against laser-cannon. If you do sense danger, warn Commander Hawken and coordinate your efforts.'

He looked ruefully at the towering Hawken and the black-robed, wizened form of Reverend Mother Maren. An oddly matched couple of allies, he thought. But maybe common danger would keep them together.

'Well,' said the Doctor. 'I'd better go. It's a long way to Gallifrey.'

'Sure you won't take a pilot and some guards?' asked Hawken.

The Doctor shook his head. 'I'm better alone. No point in risking any more lives.'

'Won't the Time Lords think it odd, an Amba.s.sador flying his own ship?'

'If it comes up, I'll tell them it's a matter of security,' said the Doctor. 'They'll like that they're very keen on security.'

He shook hands with Hawken, bowed to Reverend Mother Maren and went up the ramp.

Minutes later the ramp retracted and the s.p.a.ce yacht blasted off.

Solon watched it go from the window of his office.

He turned to Drago, who was hovering deferentially as usual.

'Good riddance to him, meddling fool. With any luck his fellow Time Lords will dispose of him. According to Morbius, they've been after him for years.'

'And the girl's gone too,' said Drago sadly.

'Morbius is welcome to her,' said Solon dismissively. 'Come, Drago, we have work to do. We must prepare for the day of his return.'

Drago looked alarmed. 'We must? How?'

'Come and I will show you. You will be amazed at the progress I have made. That last phial of Elixir made all the difference.'

When they reached the secret laboratory, he led Drago through the ante-room into the main chamber, where rows of sheeted forms lay on their stone slabs.

Solon bellowed, 'Squad, attention!'

Slowly all all the covered forms lurched to their feet, the sheets falling away. the covered forms lurched to their feet, the sheets falling away.

Solon surveyed them proudly. Row upon row of mutilated corpses, roughly repaired and cobbled crudely together, the pallid flesh seamed and scarred. Body parts from different races and different species were joined indiscriminately, with alien claws dangling from humanoid arms and insectoid heads on biped shoulders.

Drago shuddered, but Solon's eyes glowed with pride.

'An Army of the Dead,' he whispered. 'When Morbius strikes from without, we shall attack from within!'

The small conventional s.p.a.ceport outside Gallifrey's Panopticon is little used.

Time Lords, if they travel at all, travel by TARDIS, and visitors from other planets are not encouraged.

There was considerable surprise when a s.p.a.ce yacht emerged from hypers.p.a.ce and landed without warning, pa.s.sing the transduction barriers without apparent difficulty. Alarms were sounded and by the time the ship's ramp came down, the ship was surrounded by a gorgeously uniformed squad of the largely ornamental Capitol Guard.

They waited in suspense until a solitary figure emerged, his apparel even more colourful than their own. He bore several large parchment scrolls, ornately sealed.

At the bottom of the ramp, the figure confronted the guard captain, a nervous young aristocrat called Alaron.

'How did you pa.s.s the transduction barriers?' demanded Alaron.

'I was given the codes,' said the newcomer loftily.

'Diplomatic courtesy.'

'Who are you? What do you want here?'

'I am the Amba.s.sador of Karn,' said the Doctor. 'Here are my credentials. I wish to see your Lord President.'

Alaron took the credentials and studied them. They looked genuine enough. The stranger was either a distinguished visitor or a dangerous spy.

Unused to anything actually happening happening when he was on duty, Alaron decided it was all too difficult. Safer to refer the matter to higher authority. He saluted and said, 'Very well, sir. Please follow me.' when he was on duty, Alaron decided it was all too difficult. Safer to refer the matter to higher authority. He saluted and said, 'Very well, sir. Please follow me.'

The Doctor straightened his plumed hat, took a firmer grip on his scroll of office, and strode after the young officer.