Doctor Who: Timelash (7 page)

‘The Borad killed my father as he took power by force,’

continued Katz. ‘The violence he used ensured that no one dared attempt to stop him. It was awful.’

Sezon offered Peri a drink in a manner which stressed his apologetic mood. Peri accepted it cheerfully. Looking around her surroundings, Peri could see that the other rebels in the group were all very young, though Sezon explained that many of them had rapidly aged in the short space of time they had been away from the Central Citadel.

The harsh climatic conditions, rougher existence and physically demanding way of life took its toll unmercifully on the freedom fighters. Some of them had been technicians and scholars not used to violence and revolt, yet all of them without exception had lost someone close to them through the ruthless rule of the unseen Borad. It was a melancholy group that Peri felt deeply for, especially since they had rescued her from the clutches of the cave creature.

Katz arranged as many comforts as could be offered to their new guest, as Sezon showed his warmer side. It was good for the group to meet with a new face and a different topic of conversation. Indeed, Earth became a major topic which took up most of the evening.

The Doctor renegotiated the unstable time corridor once more, making his way through time and space to a planet he had visited on many occasions. This time however he knew his stay would be brief. There was so much he had to return to do on Karfel.

The Doctor never really knew why he had a soft spot for the planet Earth. Unknown to anyone else, he had a pre-programmed circuit that automatically took up course and headed for the planet with the flick of a tiny lever. Yet the Time Lord always insisted he had laboriously to set his controls each time. He mused at his harmless deceit, reflecting on the many friends he had made and lost over the centuries of the planet’s rich history through which he had travelled. From the timeof his very first visit to the planet he had become besotted and emotionally attached to the people - some more eccentric than himself - and the rich wealth of challenge and experience that the planet offered adventurous time-travellers.

But the Doctor’s priorities were clear. He had to locate Vena and return the amulet, or at least be in a position to negotiate with Tekker and the Borad. He pondered at the many ways he could return to Karfel - with a crack unit of British assault troops for example, or locate his Samurai friends in early Japenese history. But that would be cheating and the Time Lord contented himself to resort to his inner powers in order to fight and win.

The TARDIS broke through the time vortex eventually, darting into the time-space of Earth’s nineteenth century.

Heading for Europe, the Doctor allowed the TARDIS to be propelled by the final diminishing forces of the corridor to its resting place, Scotland. The Doctor was eager to leave and begin his search. He did not relish the thought of scanning mountains and lochs in the process, hut he had little choice in the matter. The thought of Peri in detention, or worse, forced him to accept his predicament and make the most of it.

A quick scan of where he was, indicated a decided lack of life. But for a tiny cottage there was little else around and certainly no sign of Vena. The Time Lord prayed his calculations were correct. Being a week, or even a day out, would be disastrous. The search for Vena and the amulet was on.

6

The cottage was quite a cosy place really, despite it not being used for most of the year, but then Herbert always took a great delight to make it that way before getting down to any serious writing - or fishing. It all rather depended on how the mood took him. Though not especially tall, he was a well-built young man in his early twenties. Always well-attired, he had an eye for the ladies, a trait he never concealed.

Herbert entered the cabin after a morning’s fishing. He removed his wet wellington boots and padded in his socks to the log fire to stir the dying embers. It was his sixth day in Scotland, and he loved the fresh atmosphere around the loch. Yet his thoughts would often wander from his writing to ideas beyond the stars themselves.

Not far from the fireplace, there stood a rickety mahogany table. Upon its highly polished surface were the letters of the alphabet neatly arranged in a circle. In the centre of the spread of letter cards was an upturned wine glass and on the floor near the table lay a large black book, its cover embossed with the design of unusual symbols and figures as befitting a witch or necromancer.

Herbert eyed the book and table. There was a glimmer of temptation in his blue eyes. Dare he work further on his project? Bouncing up from his seat, the fire behind him now crackling, Herbert dipped into the somewhat dusty manual. He thumbed through its pages searching for a section that he had already read previously, entitled

‘Calling Up The Spirit Of The Glass’.

Closing his eyes tightly, he memorised a passage that had already been scored and marked heavily. Slowly he opened his eyes and dispensed with the book of magic, sitting himself comfortably at the small table. He placed his left index finger on the upturned glass. A cold shiver ran down his spine, and his torso shook momentarily, as an unusually strong atmosphere seemed to present itself in the room. Herbert began to feel a little cold though the fire had now got well under way, and he bunched his toes together, rubbing his feet at the same time.

Although it was two o’clock in the afternoon the lighting in the room seemed to dim, despite the brilliant May sunshine outside. Herbert sensed he should move the glass, and as he did so, the wine goblet began pushing his fingers vigorously from letter to letter. He shivered at this uncanny development to contact the other side. Then, culminating with a spray of sparks in the fireplace, the glass spun violently from the table, smashing into several pieces on the stone floor by the doorway. Before Herbert could react, a spiralling column of air swept the cards and table to opposite sides of the room. Books, candleholders, loose furniture, fixtures and fittings were scattered mercilessly about the room. Herbert found himself thrust tightly into a corner unable to counter the unseen force in the room.

Gradually a white outline emerged from the chaos.

Herbert dived for the crucifix and swung it around his neck for protection. The ghostly shape of Vena materialised before Herbert. Glimpsing his timid face, she collapsed and fell on the stone floor.

Sezon drew up a large rock in front of the camp fire. The contrasting cold evenings on Karfel always required plenty of artificial heat. He offered the make-do seat to Peri, who was still getting used to the fact that he was on her side.

Katz took the opportunity to discuss the state of affairs on Karfel as they currently stood. ‘Which ruler would actually want to provoke an all-out attack on his own planet?’ she asked, as Peri listened with concern.

‘What would he achieve, killing everyone on this planet?’ returned Peri, mystified.

‘Not everyone.’ Sezon moved nearer the welcoming heat of the camp fire. ‘The Bandrils have a bendalypse warhead which they won’t hesitate to use. It’ll completely annihilate all life here that supports a central nervous system.’

Katz stoked the fire. ‘Except the Morlox - they don’t have one.’

‘Would sort of make him king of the desolation,’

concluded Peri.

Katz smiled and stretched out to relax for the night as Sezon checked the guard detachment. Peri looked into the bouncing flames. She wondered about the Doctor, but had little chance to expand her thoughts.

There was a scuffle at the main entrance to the cave.

Instantly Sezon rolled over to load his blaster only to find the cavern overrun with Citadel guardoliers. Katz looked up from her place on the ground. She could see Sezon’s expression of horror and despair as all the rebels were herded together in a corner of the encampment. Their future looked bleak, as Katz above all realised, only being able to offer a smile of apology to. Peri who appreciated the friendly gesture.

Herbert, nodding off, slipped his elbow on the mahogany table and jolted sharply. He checked the lady who had presumably been summoned and who was now sleeping soundly on the couch. He reached forward to touch her, afraid she would evaporate as quickly as she had materialised. Herbert stroked her fine brown hair, and retracted his hand as soon as the woman stirred. Vena opened her pretty eyes and sat bolt upright with a start.

She snaked her head around to evaluate her location eventually allowing her gaze to rest on the fine handsome features of her host.

‘Where am I?’ she queried. ‘And where’s my -’

Herbert pre-empted her. ‘The talisman’s under your pillow.’

Vena rummaged around the bedclothes for the amulet, clutching it like a lifeline. ‘They must not get it,’ she said.

Fear was written indelibly over her face.

Herbert noticed her to be a typical lady in distress. He dwelled on the idea and pandered to the notion.

‘I’m Vena. Thank you for looking after me,’ she said.

‘The pleasure’s all mine, dear lady.’ Herbert, typical of his generation, underlined his politeness and common decency. ‘Though I assume you’re from up there’ - he pointed heavenwards - ‘rather than down there.’

Vena grinned. She liked his simple direct manner. ‘You could say, I’m from beyond the stars.’

The young Victorian man performed a mental somersault. ‘Fantastical!’ he declared, edging forward to learn more from his mysterious visitor from the stars.

‘But what about you? Tell me, please?’ Vena’s soft gentle approach ignited a spark within Herbert’s inner being. It was not long before an explanation about his holidays in Scotland was forthcoming, and that he was a teacher about to start school next term.

The conversational patter was eventually dissected by the drone of the TARDIS’s engines. The couple, assuming the worst, scurried around the room. Vena hid the amulet as her host flicked through his manual of magic to the page that read ‘Ridding Unwanted Spirits’.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors to greet the splendid sight of the Scottish highlands. ‘Not quite the Eye of Orion,’ he mused, making his way to the only house for miles - a small neatly constructed stone cottage with a smoking chimney. Despite the time of year on Earth, there was a distinct nip in the clear Inverness air. ‘Last time I was here,’ recollected the Doctor, ‘I met young Jamie - or was it the time before that?’

Inside the cottage Herbert took his position, armed with a copy of the New Testament in one hand and a large crucifix in the other, whisked from the wall in a frenzy.

The Doctor knocked, pushing open the door cautiously, to find Herbert threatening him in a totally bizarre manner.

The Time Lord bypassed Herbert with a curt gesture of disinterest, finding Vena cowering behind the door.

‘Hello, I’m the Doctor. You must be Vena.’

It did not take long for the ex-Maylin’s daughter to realise who this was, leaving Herbert continuing his attempts to exorcise an unwanted ‘spirit’.

The Doctor sidestepped Herbert’s plans to remove his presence by force, and discussed more serious issues with the lady he had come for. Vena was eager for the Doctor’s help. She reminded herself how he had saved Karfel once before. A severe famine generations ago nearly wiped out all inhabitants. And it was for this reason that Vena agreed to place the amulet in the Doctor’s hands and return to Karfel.

Herbert eventually accepted his visitors’ stories.

Whether he had summoned them through the glass or not, they were indeed real and had to be the most exciting encounter he had ever experienced in his relatively short and uninteresting lifetime.

‘Can I come too, Doctor?’ enquired Herbert with a half-smile and polite frown. An answer to his outspoken request quickly dampened his enthusiasm.

‘We’re not off on some joy-ride, you know young man,’

bellowed the Doctor, eager to get back to the TARDIS.

‘The situation on Karfel is serious, very serious indeed!’

‘Not to mention dangerous,’ added Vena grimly.

Herbert retracted, realising that he was on a losing track. He turned to pick up his shoes and jacket then looked at his visitors directly.

‘Very well then. It was a pleasure meeting you both. I’m sorry we couldn’t have become better acquainted.’ The Victorian gentleman then proceeded out of the room into the kitchen, closing the door firmly.

The Doctor tapped Vena on the arm, signalling it was their cue to leave.

‘Nice enough lad, but I can’t possibly agree to his request.’

The Time Lord spotted a mirror on the oakwood Welsh dresser. He fingered it thoughtfully, then pocketed it.

‘Remind me to return it to Herbert when this is all over,’

he said.

Vena nodded, and they departed.

The main doors of the Borad’s vault slid open to allow his personal android entry. A report was made concerning the captured rebels, and that Peri had also been taken in the arrest. A rather pleased Borad issued further instructions as the android mentally recorded the orders systematically and without emotion.

‘Prepare the girl Peri with the M-80 cylinder as we have discussed, and set up a viewer in order that I can observe the experiment closely.’

The android nodded, then paused to consider another matter: ‘Borad, what about the Doctor? What shall I do with him when he returns to claim his assistant?’

The mysterious ruler of Karfel mused momentarily. It was obvious that little warmth existed between the two, and the Borad made the command that he had issued on so many occasions.

‘Use the Timelash. I have little need of the Time Lord, since he will have served my purposes. But bring me his time-machine - that will be my prize.’

Vena strolled around the centre console of the TARDIS

quite intrigued by the moving parts before her eyes.

‘You’ll soon have to hang on, my dear,’ the Doctor grinned with reassurance. ‘Don’t worry, it will only be temporary discomfort. Once inside the Timelash corridor it will be plain sailing.’