The Romance Of Crime Part 25

'Relative dimensional stabilizer maps interior dimensions onto exterior outlet,' K9 replied. 'Number of relational components of TARDIS inestimable, therefore detailed report on its workings is unavailable.'

A particular device at the base of one of the console panels caught Spiggot's eye. It was a golden grille with a couple of switches at either end. 'Ah, right,' he said, stretching out a hand, 'this'll be your guidance and local hazard warning system. Looks like it, anyway.'

'Caution!' K9 squeaked. 'Do not touch TARDIS controls or I may be forced to stun you. Unauthorized handling of systems is very dangerous.'

Spiggot withdrew his hand. 'I get it. Like, only the Doctor knows how to fly this thing, yeah?'

K9 replied, 'I am fully integrated to TARDIS systems. I will operate this flight by remote.' He beeped a signal and the central column of the console began to rise and fall. An unearthly trumpeting noise sounded from deep within the console.

'And I thought I'd seen it all,' said Spiggot. 'This could be a fun ride.'

Stokes scampered along the darkened corridors of the survey base. Hearing guided him, away from the side of the base where he judged the Ogron ship to have docked. The thought of b.u.mping into a horde of those rampaging brutes in pitch blackness was not comforting.

At every one of the creaks and rumbles that rattled the metalwork about him, his head jerked up, his nostrils twitched, and he flushed a deeper shade of purple. This beastly place was alive. Alive with shadows, m.u.f.fled noises and the distant conversations of the shuffling dead; a ghost base, a snare for the souls of the gruesomely dispatched miners.

Perhaps, thought Stokes, slippery hands twisting, there was something on this planet. A dark, ancient force more powerful than death itself. Something that could hide in the dark.

Something that could lurk in the mind, feeding off your fear, something you could never shake away. A twisted white thing, spattered with warm blood, with thirty eyes, and seven giant claws. At the moment it was content to rattle a panel or shake a loose inspection covering or two. Just to let him know it was about. It would strike later, when it had brought him to his knees. A tap on the shoulder. He would turn. There it would be, half covered by shadow. It would jab its claws into his chest and bring out his beating heart, sink its teeth into his head and suck the juices from his brain. It was worse than Xais or the Nisbett brothers ever could be. Worse than Ventol, the three-headed killer of the lower City. Worse than Strapping Jack or the Zinctown Cobbler. Perhaps it was here.

He could feel its breath on his neck, but of course when he turned round it had dashed back into cover. It was playing with him. He had to escape from it, get through the door up ahead, set the timer on the transmat, climb up and disappear.

His outstretched fingers felt along the cold metal wall, leading him around obstacles that his failing eyesight could not detect. He b.u.mped into something and cried out, but it was only an abandoned trolley. Alarmed by his own cry of distress, he ran recklessly ahead in a wobbling frenzy.

A shaft of light fell over the door at the end of the corridor, now only a few metres away. Yes, this was the transmat. He threw himself forward onto the metal hatchway.

The door to the transmat chamber refused to open. It was sealed. Stokes thumbed the opening panel but it failed to respond.

Stokes's vision started to wheel. He shook. His legs almost gave way. He tottered from wall to wall, desperate to stay upright. Hunger and fear and exhaustion were pressing him down. Shivering pangs of fever creased his shoulder blades.

His mind and body were screaming for rest. He was transformed into a creature compounded wholly of terror.

He stumbled away, choking and spluttering. There had to be somewhere to hide. Somewhere safe, away from this madness.

Romana tapped the Doctor on the shoulder as he sped down the corridor. 'What are we going to do when we get to the survey room, Doctor?'

He stopped and she almost cannoned into him. 'Stop Xais. I think the Nisbett brothers ought to be told a few truths.'

'Is that wise? We don't know how they'll react.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No, we don't. We'll just have to hope, won't we?'

He ran ahead again.

A bubble of mud swelled up and burst over the boots of the mining Ogrons. The probe shot back a second later, now coated in glistening blue soil. Gjork caught it and wiped clean the snout-nosed end.

He reported to the base. 'Gjork to Mr Charles. Probe is back.'

Xais tapped a foot. 'This is unnecessary. Why are we wasting time?'

Eddie frowned. 'Wait. Just stand there and wait.'

Charlie put down his soup and brought out the probe's relay unit, a large red box, from a crate. He flipped up a small screen and a series of results started to flash up.

PORTIZOL 0.00000012%.

GOOMINUM 0.00000000000003%.

VIBLIUS 0.0000000000000000000014%.

BALL'S ORE 0.00000000000000000000000000023% BELZITE 0.00000000000000000000000000006%.

HELICON.

residual ??????

'There,' said Charlie, satisfied. 'Not much we didn't expect.' He turned to Xais, who was studying the probe's findings over his shoulder. 'Right. You'd better give us the coordinates for these mountains, then, and we'll get the lads sent out.'

Xais raised a hand as he made to close the screen down.

'Wait. The helicon. Explain the reading for helicon.'

Eddie shrugged. 'It could be a freak reading for this area. It doesn't matter.'

'A residual trace of helicon?' said Xais. 'Impossible.

Jarrigan Voltt's initial report estimated helicon at one point three per cent of planetary ma.s.s. A residual trace suggests that the helicon has been sucked away by selectively programmed mining bugs.' She turned to Pyerpoint. 'Yes?'

He looked away. 'The reading must be false.'

Xais clenched her fists. 'No! What has happened here?

Where is the helicon?'

Curious, Spiggot removed one of the Doctor's coats from the stand in the TARDIS control room and examined the label inside. 'H.J. Barber and Son, Aylesbury,' he read out.

'Aylesbury? Isn't that one of the outer worlds?'

'Aylesbury unimportant,' K9 replied. 'TARDIS now entering hover mode. Activating force field.'

There was a slight change in the ambient hum of the TARDIS's engines. The central column rose to its full height and stopped.

'Have we arrived then?' asked Spiggot.

K9 trundled forward officiously and operated the shutters over the scanner. Spiggot saw a close view of the atmosphere of Planet Eleven, flecks of which were already starting to adhere to the scanner lens.

'We are stationary above planet's surface,' said K9. 'I will now carry out sensor survey to locate mining base.'

'What about the atmospheric interference?' Spiggot asked.

'n.o.body's ever surveyed this planet from s.p.a.ce, it's impossible.'

'Gallifreyan technology superior.' Lights on the input panel on K9's back started to flash and his eyescreen flickered as he interfaced with the TARDIS computer. The picture on the TARDIS scanner shifted into scan mode, and topographical details became visible. After a few seconds, a green light started to flash over one area. The focus sharpened and Spiggot made out a couple of familiar shapes.

'Ah, right. That'll be the survey base and there's the Ogron ship.' An orange glow clung to the rear of the smaller object.

'It must have just touched down, there's still a heat shadow.'

He looked down at K9, who was still flashing and beeping anxiously. 'What's up?'

K9's tail wagged in bemus.e.m.e.nt. 'TARDIS sensors register a secondary generator on planet's surface.'

'Don't be daft. It must be the distortion, playing up your fancy galliwhatsit technology,' said Spiggot. 'There's nothing else down there.'

In reply, K9 pulled the scanner image back and zoomed in to another point. The enhancers strained to pierce the cover of a dense typhoon of gas. Peaks of a mountain range became visible, cramped and irregular. The spectrum of the image switched to negative, and Spiggot saw it. A tiny patch of black against bright green. 'What is it?'

'Insufficient data. Structure has been built under cover of mountain range. Patina of energy traces suggest there is an impulse-powered generator beneath structure. Smaller energy trails also present. This suggests use of processing machinery.'

Spiggot rubbed his chin. 'What, mining machinery?'

'That is possible.' K9 conferred again with the TARDIS. 'I have completed a rapid mineralogical a.n.a.lysis of planet. There is evidence of recent extraction of mineral alloy RL225, common name helicon.'

'There are pirates down there,' said Spiggot. 'Got there before Xais. It can't be one of the big companies. But who the h.e.l.l would have the money to build a place like that down there? And what do they want with the helicon anyway?'

He knelt down and addressed K9. 'Hey. Why don't we take a nose at that place, eh? Give it the once over?'

'Your idioms are not in my phraseology bank,' said K9. 'If your suggestion is to travel to this mining base, I have already programmed a suitable course.'

'This cannot be!' Xais screeched. She threw the probe relay down and advanced on Charlie. 'Your equipment has malfunctioned.'

Charlie folded his arms and stared back implacably. 'Does it matter, eh? Who needs helicon?' He signalled to Eddie.

'Perhaps you'd like to tell us why you're getting upset about it.'

Eddie levelled his revolver at Xais's back. Pyerpoint, watching from the corner, reached for his own pistol.

'Because I like to have all the facts, dear,' Charlie went on.

'I like to have everything tidy and on the table and in its place.

So, tell me. Why are you so interested in helicon?'

'One glance from my eyes and you are dead,' Xais warned.

Her voice was becoming louder and more tremulous. 'I merely wish a.s.surance that your equipment is functioning correctly. If we are to proceed with the extraction of the belzite, everything must be in good order.'

'So where is the belzite?' demanded Charlie. He spat out the last word of the sentence sceptically. 'Tell us. Now. We've fulfilled our part of the bargain.'

The tension in the survey room had lessened for the moment. Eddie lowered his revolver. Pyerpoint's hand moved away from his laser pistol.

Xais strode past Charlie and tapped out a series of figures into one of the consoles. A symbol flashed on the contoured map of the planet's surface. 'There. The Jilharro mountains.

The range is almost impa.s.sable, but your Ogrons can reach the seam, I'm sure. All they have to do is set up mini-rigs at five points. I will program them by remote, and the belzite seam will be extracted and refined in two months.'

'At last,' said Eddie. He moved towards the communicator.

'I'll call Gjork back in and brief him.'

'Wait a second.' Charlie raised the flat of one hand. 'Xais.

There's another thing I want from you. The name of Sentinel.'

Xais laughed. 'Do you think me such a fool? That information will be revealed to you only after the operation is over.'

'Then no deal,' said Charlie. 'You're going to tell us.

Now.' He raised his hand to the mask. 'I don't like being kept behind. I've never had to do it before. I'm too old to start now.'

Eddie raised his revolver again.

Xais snarled. 'I'll tell you nothing until our business is complete.'