Doctor Who: The Zarbi (17 page)

In their furious excitement and intentness on the battle the Zarbi appeared to have forgotten their earth captives.

Vicki was the first to come ‘alive’. She stole a quick sidelong glance at the creatures chirruping and bustling around the control panel – and then she looked at the Doctor.

She reached out furtively, snatched the necklet from around the Doctor’s throat, and dropped it hastily as if it were hot.

Doctor Who blinked and awoke to an awareness of his surroundings. Vicki quietly put a hand on his arm and motioned him with a finger to silence.

Doctor Who stared at the necklet still encircling the girl. ‘Vicki – you’re still wearing the...!’ he whispered.

She smiled, calmly removed her own necklet, and offered it to him.

She whispered back, ‘It’s the one you treated. I slipped it in the Zarbi’s way when I saw what they were going to do. You succeeded, Doctor – it doesn’t work any more...’

Doctor Who took the necklet and examined it carefully, keeping an eye on the Zarbi. He stared at the smiling Vicki.

She said, ‘When they directed us to the wall, I just...

walked there. I shammed!’

‘My dear child...!’

‘Oh!’ Vicki shrugged lightly, rather pleased with herself.

‘It was nothing, really...’

‘Nonsense! You have a very sharp brain! Now we must take advantage of... this discovery...!’

The Doctor rubbed his chin and swivelled his head carefully to stare towards the Zarbi. Again he pondered the necklet.

‘Hmm... if it no longer works on us, it seems I have managed to reverse the... force field... well, well...!’

‘Careful – look out!’ Vicki breathed.

The activity at the control panel was slackening. The speaker, having hummed a final set of instructions, shut off the big light in the centre of the web indicator faded and blanked out. The Zarbi manning the control panel relaxed.

One of them turned, looked towards the Doctor and Vicki, got up, and marched towards them.

Vicki and Doctor Who stiffened to attention, staring before them, pretending to be still in a trance.

The Zarbi passed them with only a brief flash of its glowing eyes and headed for one of the exits. It vanished down a tunnel.

Another Zarbi moved away from the control panel and crouched sleepily, leaving a single companion manning the controls. Doctor Who relaxed faintly. He took the bracelet he had treated and slipped it on his own neck. He kicked the other necklet in front of Vicki and nodded at it. Out of the corner of his mouth he whispered, ‘Now, child – this is what I want you to do...’

As he whispered to Vicki the Zarbi at the control panel turned its head slightly. Then it rose at a sound from Vicki.

The girl was ‘awake’. She was staring around her bewildered.

‘What’s happened...?’ She called. ‘Where... am I...?’

The Zarbi stared and saw the necklet had apparently fallen from her and was lying at her feet. It chirruped and scuttled across to her from the panel. Its claw reached to pick up the necklet and replace it on the dazed girl. As it stopped Doctor Who moved swiftly. He whipped the treated gold circle from his own throat and thrust it at the Zarbi’s thin neck, between the evil head and the sleek body.

The Zarbi stiffened, reared. Doctor Who tensed against the expected blow. The Zarbi remained staring at Doctor Who.

Suddenly it grew stiff, motionless. Vicki shot a questioning, anxious look sidelong at the Doctor. He watched the Zarbi. He raised a hand – and directed it.

Obediently the Zarbi turned as he pointed.

Vicki smothered a wild yell of excitement. Doctor Who was beaming now, and chuckling.

‘Splendid... splendid...!’

‘But... what can we do now?’

‘Eh?’ Doctor Who pondered that slyly. Slowly his face lit with mischief — and hope.

‘Well — I think we should get our friend to take us out of here, don’t you think? It’s essential that we contact these Menoptera, my dear...’

Vicki flashed an anxious look at the other Zarbi guard still in the control room, resting itself, its head turned away. She looked towards the tunnel exits.

‘But... they won’t let us out of here just like that...!’

Doctor Who was wagging his head over that problem.

‘I don’t know...’ he mused. ‘Now — if the other creatures think that
we
are the ones being directed — to this slave colony the Voice spoke of, for instance — they might, mightn’t they? Mm...?’

‘I... suppose so...’ Vicki said uncertainly.

Doctor Who seized her arm reassuringly. ‘Come along then — let’s try it...!’

He turned and pointed at the Zarbi, then towards the nearest doorway to a tunnel.

Dully, the Zarbi responded. It walked on its ungainly hind legs towards the tunnel.

There Doctor Who stopped it with a commanding finger. He placed himself and Vicki in front of the Zarbi.

Then he turned and beckoned the Zarbi to follow.

As they entered the tunnel a Zarbi guard emerged from the far end and came scuttling along towards them. Doctor Who and Vicki walked steadily towards it, their faces blank, apparently unseeing, the creature under their control shuffling along behind them.

The oncoming guard paused, glaring curiously — and then passed on.

Only when it had passed did Vicki venture a look around them.

‘I expected to see more of these Zarbi creatures about than this, Doctor.’

‘Mm — they must have been sent to the plateau... to meet this spearhead... Be careful now — I’m afraid we’ve still a long way to go...’

They walked warily on down the tunnel.

Barbara was staring about her in wonderment. So were her Menoptera friends — Hrostar, Prapillus, Hlynia and Hilio.

‘It’s... a temple,’ Hlynia breathed.

‘An ancient Menoptera temple,’ Prapillus murmured. ‘It must be fifty generations old.’

Hrostar pointed at the walls. ‘It was of such things that our great civilization was made.’

Their voices had a strange echoing quality. The great sheer walls were carved with immense designs of Menoptera wings, and still — though crumbling and decayed — brilliantly coloured. Gold and coppery markings, some of them turned to a luminous green with age, shone down among the ochres, the reds and sky-blues of the vivid wing patterns.

They saw that the rock walls which had opened to let them in and then closed behind them were shaped and carved too, into the pattern of a massive pair of wings.

Prapillus, the wise old scholar among them, was entranced. ‘One of our temples of light,’ he whispered. ‘I knew they existed. The legends about them have been handed down. But I thought they were lost forever...’

Hlynia turned to her father. ‘There are
others
?’

Prapillus nodded. ‘According to the stories — scattered in the craters and the plateaux of Vortis... slowly crumbling away, their locations long since forgotten as our ancestors sank into slavery...’

Barbara and Hrostar were leaning against the great winged walls, now folded down, closed.

‘It sounds as if they’ve gone... given up,’ Barbara said.

Hrostar faced their party. ‘One of us must explore.’

Prapillus shook his head. ‘No, Hrostar, not yet. The Zarbi are almost certain to mount guards. We must wait.

Perhaps... find another way out.’ The old Menoptera looked around him.

Hrostar stared up at the brilliant walls. ‘The Light God was kind to us today. It is a good omen.’

‘Is it?’ Barbara challenged him. ‘From what I saw of the battle – the spearhead was wiped out!’

The spearhead officer Hilio drew himself up, proud and confident. ‘All is not lost – the main invasion force will soon arrive. Then we will triumph!’

‘But they were relying on your spearhead, weren’t they, Hilio?’ Barbara asked.

‘It was only... a... a setback. But we will not be stopped by the Zarbi! After all these years of planning, it is now or never. Nothing will stop us! Even if our electron-guns proved, er, disappointing in battle against the Zarbi, we shall rely on our numbers, our... courage!’

‘It is fine to make patriotic speeches, Hilio,’ the old Menoptera Prapillus said coldly. ‘But they will not free Vortis for us!’

‘You must face it,’ Barbara urged him. ‘Both your scouting party and your spearhead failed! The Zarbi routed them! The same will happen to your main force – unless you change your plans. You must think of a new way to outwit these creatures – this intelligence which controls them.’

‘Very well!’ Hrostar wheeled and faced Barbara. ‘How can we establish a landing point for our forces? Tell me that!’

Barbara shook her head. ‘We couldn’t! But... perhaps we could do something else – just as effective.’

Hilio pointed a scornful finger at Barbara. ‘Should we listen to a stranger? Let the invasion go on! Some of us will get through! We must!’

Prapillus held up his hand. ‘Hilio – surely this disaster has taught you something good.’

‘Good?’ Hilio exploded.

Prapillus nodded. ‘We Menoptera are blessed with the power of flight. It has made us god-like in our confidence –

that we can rise above any difficulty, instead of solving it.

It has made you blind! But we slaves are not blind. When we had our wings clipped or taken from us, we were forced to use our brains, to think! For that lesson we must
thank
the Zarbi!’

He turned towards Barbara. ‘And we can learn much from this earth girl. Sheer courage alone is not enough to win us victory. We must be ready to change tactics, plan, scheme,
outwit
...!’

Hilio folded his arms. ‘Very well,’ he said sarcastically.

‘Let us listen to this girl – and her brilliant ideas.’

There was a pause. All eyes were on Barbara.

She said uncertainly, ‘Well... if your spearhead
had
been successful, what would you have then done?’

‘If we had met no resistance,’ Hilio answered curtly, ‘We would have proceeded to the centre of the great web growing over Vortis – and destroyed whatever it is that controls the Zarbi!’

‘How?’

Hilio paused. He looked at them, hesitated, then drew out a small instrument the size of a pistol from inside his brilliant combat jacket. It had a short, thick snout, but instead of a target sight, it was equipped with a tiny, saucer-shaped mirror with an electrode projecting from its centre. At the trigger end the barrel was wound thickly with fine wires, like an armature, and studded with a circle of brilliantly coloured tubes the size of transistor valves. A short tension-sprung lever switch took the place of a trigger.

Hilio held the weapon carefully before him.

‘With this,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ Prapillus asked, his bright old eyes alight with interest.

‘A whole generation of our scientists have been working to produce it. It was called Project V-W-D. It is designed for one use – against the Intelligence which controls the Zarbi. You would understand it better if I called it by the name our invasion command has given it. They know it as... the Web Destructor.’

Prapillus stretched forward his hand and reluctantly Hilio allowed him to handle the instrument. The old Menoptera examined it keenly, his eyes roving over the armature with its cluster of brilliant tubes and the tiny glittering dish-shaped sight.

‘... A... living cell destructor...?’ Prapillus ventured, musing. ‘Correct...?’

Hilio nodded. ‘That web and the living thing behind it is an organic matter that
grows
— and spreads its evil around Vortis. This destructor will reverse the process...

the cells will mutate, grow inwards — and the being will be destroyed...’

Prapillus finished admiring the Web Destructor and restored it to Hilio. He wagged his head doubtfully.

‘It is precious little use to you, though, while the Zarbi stand in your way. Your ordinary electron-guns proved useless against them.’

Hilio hung his head and admitted that. ‘We must expect setbacks. We are prepared for massive casualties.’

Barbara shook her head. ‘That is not the way!’ she said.

‘It is folly to waste countless lives! The thing is to get
behind
this creature’s shield — The Zarbi — and strike at its heart. I agree with Hilio about one thing...’

‘Yes...?’ Prapillus prompted her.

‘The key to all this is to attack the centre — the Intelligence behind it. What I do not agree about is that we should try to reach it by overcoming the Zarbi in open battle.’

‘When our invasion force lands...’ Hilio began to say...

Barbara rounded on him. ‘Force is not the answer! You have seen what happened on the plateau! Has that taught you
nothing
? It could mean suicide for your whole army.’

‘She is right,’ Prapillus said. He tapped his head. ‘We must attack the centre. But to get to it — we must
think
, use...
guile
...!’

The pigmy-like underground kinsmen of the Menoptera now crowded respectfully around Vrestin and the earth man Ian, listening spellbound to their story and the plan they unfolded for their future.

It was as though Vrestin’s glowing words had opened up new vistas for them. He told them of their rich heritage, of what history had told of the true civilization on Vortis, how rich and splendid it had been.

It was this civilization that the rescuing Menoptera were returning to restore.

But the way would be hard and fraught with danger, Vrestin and Ian had warned them.

Now they crowded about the two men, pointing out the tunnels they had dug with their curious whorl-shaped spears. Their skill with these. implements was impressive.

Not only had they adapted them for their defence, but they burrowed and dug through the ground with incredible speed, turning them around rock and dislodging solid veins of silica with tremendous dexterity. They used the natural underground fissures and chasms they came upon, too, to join the complex of tunnels which made up their underground home.

Now they shouldered their spears and listened afresh as Ian and Vrestin unfolded a plan to reach and bore into the very heart of the planet’s great enemy — the being whose vibrations controlled the hated Zarbi and whose web crawled and tightened its evil grip on Vortis.