Doctor Who: Marco Polo (4 page)

'Shah mat, I believe.' The Doctor's
eyes twinkled.

'Yes, checkmate, as Ian would say,'
Marco agreed with a grin, 'I should have known better than to take
you on.' Silently Barbara and Ian agreed with him.

'Tomorrow, when the caravan stops,'
Tegana said, 'it will be between us, Marco.'

'Very well,' Marco replied affably.

Once, during the third day of their
journey, Marco looked back over his shoulder and thought he saw three
horsemen and a riderless horse following them. But they disappeared
in the haze of the shimmering sand and he decided it had been a
mirage.

That evening's game of chess had a
tension about it, a feeling, unlike the other two, that much more was
at stake than a cry of 'Shah mat'. Tegana strutted up and down in
front of the board making his moves with extravagant gestures,
exulting aloud every time he took one of his opponent's pieces, while
Marco sat quietly, determined not to be distracted by Tegana's
behaviour.

Thankfully, the match ended in a draw
which the Doctor suspected Marco had done deliberately.

There was not a breath of wind on the
fourth day's travel and Marco was uneasy although he tried to conceal
it. From time to time he would squint at the cloudless sky or glance
back over his shoulder. The Doctor remarked that it was the hottest
day yet and Ian reminded him that they were journeying further and
further into the desert.

Ping-Cho and Susan played their match
after dinner. It ended in a draw which the Doctor knew Susan had
planned. Later the two girls lay in their section of the tent with
the outside flap open to let in any night breeze that might come up.

'Asleep?' Susan whispered.

'No, I was thinking,' Ping-Cho replied.

'What about?'

'How peaceful the desert is.'

'It's a lovely night.'

'With the moon it resembles a vast
silver sea.'

'The metal seas of Venus,' Susan
murmured.

'Where?'

'Far, far away.' She hesitated for a
moment. 'I've never walked in a moonlit desert. Shall we?'

'If you tell me about the metal seas.'

They got out of their cots and wearing
their nightdresses slipped out barefoot into the warm stillness of
the night. Susan looked around.

'I dig this,' she exclaimed, 'it's
crazy.'

'Ssshhh, the guard'll hear you,'
Ping-Cho warned and then looked puzzled. 'What are you going to
unearth and why is it insane?' she asked. Susan giggled.

'It's a way of saying you like
something very much,' she explained.

'This language of yours is very
strange,' Ping-Cho replied, 'but I think I dig it.'

They saw Tegana come out of the tent,
say a few words to the guard and stride off across the desert.

'Do you think he's taking the night
air?' Susan asked.

'No. He's going somewhere,' Ping-Cho
replied.

'In the middle of the desert?' Susan's
curiosity was aroused. 'Why not follow him and see?'

'Crazy,' Ping-Cho said and, keeping out
of sight of the guard, they followed Tegana into the desert. 'We
mustn't get lost, though,' she warned. Susan glanced at the night
sky.

'Don't worry, I'll find our way back by
the stars.'

They had tracked Tegana for half an
hour across the dunes when the wind came up. It was stiflingly hot as
though someone had opened an enormous oven door and they saw the
cloud swirling across the desert towards them.

'It's a sandstorm,' Ping-Cho cried, 'we
must return to the caravan quickly.'

'No, it's too far,' Susan replied, 'we
need shelter here.'

'But where?' Already the wind was
tugging at their nightdresses and grains of sand were stinging their
faces. Susan looked around desperately.

'Down the side of this dune,' she
yelled and the two of them slithered and slid down to the bottom,
huddled together and covered their faces with their nightdresses.
Then the sandstorm struck in all its fury as they cowered against the dune for
protection. The searing wind howled and screamed all about them, then
suddenly subsided although the sand still swirled around them. For a
moment there was silence and then they heard it.

What's that?' Ping-Cho's voice
quavered.

'It sounds like people moaning,' Susan
replied and then listened again. 'No, now they're chuckling.' As 'the
two of them clutched each other, the chuckle became laughter which
grew in intensity until they were both enveloped in a hideous,
demoniacal, hysterical shrieking.

"That sounds like all the devils
in hell,' Ian said to Marco as they secured the main flap of the
tent.

"I did warn you about the desert,'
Marco replied as Barbara came out of her compartment.

'What - what's happening?' She
sounded scared. Ian smiled at her.

'It's the sandstorm,' he said.

'But that awful laughter,' she
exclaimed.

'Is simply the wind shifting the sand,'
Marco explained calmly. 'It's a phenomenon.'

'It's terrifying,' Barbara retorted.

'Not always,' Marco said and told her
that at times it could be like musical instruments being played,
drums being beaten and cymbals clashed, or it could sound as though a
host of travellers were chatting amongst themselves as they crossed
the desert, and yet again sometimes it could sound like a single
familiar voice calling out your name. 'Almost
all people who cross the Gobi fear the singing sands,' he added with
a smile.

'Not the Doctor,' Ian remarked, looking
at the sleeping figure.

'I'll check the girls,' Barbara said
and went to their section of the tent. As she opened the inner flap
she was struck in the face by flying sand.

'Ian,' she yelled and both Ian and Marco
ran to her side.

'We must close the outside flap,' Marco
said.

'But where's Susan? Where's Ping-Cho?'
Barbara cried.

'One thing at a time,' Marco replied
sharply, 'the flap.' Both he and Ian took a deep breath then, holding
their hands in front of their faces, plunged into the swirling sand
to grab the outside flap which was thrashing wildly in the wind. As
they secured it the sand subsided.

'Open the inner flap fully, Barbara, so
we can see,' Marco said. She unlaced it completely and went into the
compartment.

'They're not here,' Ian said quietly.

'Then where . . .?' Barbara started to
ask and then answered herself. 'Out there?' Ian nodded.

'There's nothing we can do until the
storm's over, so we'll wake Tegana and go in search of them as soon
as possible,' Marco said.

'What about the Doctor? He's Susan's
grandfather.' Barbara reminded them. Ian and Marco exchanged a
glance.

'Let's not worry him yet,' Ian replied
and they went over to Tegana's bedroll to discover it was empty as
well.

'He must be out there, too,' Ian
exclaimed. Marco knitted his brows.

'But why? Why are they out there?' he
asked.

Although the sand still swirled around
them, the wind had almost completely died down when Susan heard the
Doctor calling her.

'Ssuuussaaannn.'

'That's grandfather,' she said, 'they
must be looking for us.'

'Not in this, not yet,' Ping-Cho
replied.

'Ssuuussaannn.'

'There he is again. I know my
grandfather's voice,' Susan insisted.

'Calling out like that, he'd choke on
sand,' Ping-Cho said. 'It's a desert spirit.'

'There's no such thing. It's
grandfather.' Susan stood up. 'We're over here, grand . . .' she
called out, but stopped short with a mouthful of sand.

Ping-Cho shook her head. 'It's not him.
It's a devil, a devil, believe me.' Then she looked up at the top of
the dune and saw him there, a shadowy figure blurred by sand.
Ping-Cho screamed and got a mouthful of land, too.

The storm stopped as quickly as it had
struck. The desert was still again, the moon riding high in the
star-studded sky. Barbara, Ian and Marco were on the point of setting
out to search for Susan and Ping-Cho when they saw them with Tegana
approaching the caravan.

'You've had us half-worried to death,'
Barbara chided. Susan hung her head.

'It was such a lovely night we went for
a walk,' she said lamely. Marco raised a remonstrating finger.

'Don't you ever do that again,' he
ordered.

'I also chose to go for a walk, will
you forbid me that as well?' Tegana asked. Marco turned to face him.

'No one leaves this caravan at night
without my permission.'

'I told the guard, was not that
sufficient?' Tegana asked.

'No, the guard must come and tell me.'
Marco was adamant and reminded them that he was responsible for
everyone's life. Then he told them to sleep as it would soon be dawn
and their journey must continue.

'It's been a frightening ordeal for
them,' Barbara said looking at Ping-Cho and Susan, 'for all of us, in
fact. Can't we spend one day here to let everyone recover from it?'

'No, Barbara, I'm sorry,' Marco
replied.

'But, surely, one day won't make that
much difference?' she argued.

'One day without progress is a day's
water wasted,' he retaliated, 'and in the desert that can be the
difference between life and death.' He turned to Tegana. 'Am I not
right?' he asked, and the War Lord agreed with him.

With the exception of the Doctor
everyone was tired yet the day's progress was good, the caravan
covering five leagues before Marco gave the order to pitch the camp
for the night. There were no volunteers for a game of chess after
dinner and soon the main tent was still. In their compartment
Ping-Cho and Susan lay drowsily in their cots looking out at the
stars. Susan scratched her head.

'I still haven't got all the sand out
of my hair,' she murmured.

'There were moments last night when I
was sure I would never lie here again,' Ping-Cho replied, snuggling
down under her covers.

'Do you believe what Tegana told Marco
about going for a walk?' Susan whispered.

'No.' Ping-Cho struggled to keep her
eyes open. 'He's not the sort of man who goes for a walk because it's
a nice night.'

'But why would he lie to Marco?' Susan
asked. 'He's an important War Lord, an emissary from, from - '

'Noghai,' Ping-Cho said dreamily.

'To Kublai Khan,' Susan continued. 'Why
would someone like that lie about walking in the desert?'

'I don't know,' Ping-Cho slurred her
words.

'Odd, isn't it?' Susan yawned.

'What's odd?'

'The fact that he did,' Susan yawned
again and closed her eyes.

It was after midnight when Tegana
stirred and, arming himself with his dagger, slipped silently out of
the tent. Lurking in the shadows, he looked around for the guard who
was leaning with his back to Tegana against the side of the supply
wagon. Tegana crept up behind him and with one deft movement slit his
throat. The guard died without a sound. Then Tegana cut the ropes
securing the wagon's canopy and looked at the seven full gourds of
water. One by one he split them open and let the water spill into the
desert sand. The gourd they were using he left and went back to his
bedroll, sleeping soundly until the alarm was given at dawn.

While the Mongol bearers buried their
companion, Marco took stock of the situation. They were four days out
from Lop which meant that the gourd they were using had only one
day's supply of water left.

'And if we ration it?' Ian asked.

'Three or four days at best,' Marco
replied.

'Then we've enough to return to Lop,'
Ian said. Marco shook his head.

'No, Ian, that's the one thing we
cannot, dare not, do.'

'Why?' Barbara asked.

'Because this was done by bandits. It's
happened before, though never to me,' Marco replied. 'They follow you
out into the desert, then one night this happens and the caravan is
forced to turn back. And when everyone is weakened through lack of
water, they attack. Strange, I thought we were being followed two days ago but I decided it was a
mirage.'

'Pity,' the Doctor murmured.

'Then we shall stand and fight,' Tegana
said, drawing his sword. The Doctor gave him an old-fashioned look
and turned to Marco.

'Is there another alternative?' he
asked.

'There is a small oasis, Doctor, to the
north,' Marco replied, 'but it's one week's journey away.'

'But if we pressed hard, Marco, if we
kept going day night, how long then?' Ian was determined. Marco ran
the palm of his hand across his face.

'Five days,' he replied, and pointed
out that with the water rationed they would be growing weaker all the
time so it might still be too far away. 'And there is another
danger,' he added. 'Bandits always camp near an oasis.'

'But you're not talking of the same
bandits,' the Doctor observed.

'No.'

'If we turn back for Lop an attack is
certain, but if we strive to reach the oasis there is the possibility
that no bandits will be encamped.' The Doctor turned to Marco. 'True,
Polo?' Marco nodded.

'What you say makes sense, Doctor,' he
conceded. We strike north.'

'I will not accompany you,' Tegana
proclaimed, putting his sword back in its scabbard. 'I do not fear
these bandits.' He announced that he would ride back to Lop but he
wanted his ration of water for the journey. Marco refused, stating
that as the commander of the caravan he was responsible to Kublai
Khan for Tegana's safety and that they would journey north together.

The caravan set off but the sand was no
longer packed as on the Old Silk Road. There were stretches where it
was firm but suddenly the horses would sink into it to their shanks
or the wagon wheels to their axles and a slow, tedious struggle was
needed to release them.

As they journeyed deeper into the
desert the days became hotter and the nights cooler so Marco ordered
that the caravan stopped between mid-morning until mid-afternoon. The
tents were no longer pitched but sections were used as canopies
attached to the wagons giving shelter from the scorching sun. But
each day their progress diminished, five leagues, four, three, two
and, finally, one, yet they were still four leagues from the oasis.
Just before the end of their rest period on the fifth afternoon,
Marco gave everyone a ration of water. As Ian sipped his, he looked
at Marco.