Doctor Who: Ultimate Treasure (25 page)

The Marquis nodded in agreement. 'Yes, we must press on.'

Myra rounded upon them both angrily, 'How can you be so callous! Suppose he's trapped somewhere. I wouldn't leave a kazarn slime rat here for another night like that! We find him, however long it takes, Professor. Have a little patience for once!'

Unaccountably, Thorrin flinched, but said nothing.

Gribbs came upon the meteor crater before he reached the
Falcon
. It had landed within half a kilometre of the ship. The Impact had flattened a couple of trees and started a small grass fire, which was already dying down, but otherwise had done surprisingly little damage. The crater was only five metres across and very shallow. More like the blast pit of a rocket, Gribbs thought idly. Then he looked again. In the centre of the crater was a heap of blackened remains that he had first taken to be a burnt bush or shards of rock. But now he looked more closely he saw regular sharp edges to them, and here and there a glint of metal. Puzzled, he circled the still hot crater. There were strange regular marks running from its centre out across the charred earth and grass. At the point they left the crater he identified them. They were the tracks of a set of caterpillar treads.

Suddenly he began to wonder if it was really such an extraordinary chance that something had landed just where it had.

Pistol drawn, he followed the trail. When the tracks reached fresh grass the impressions remained clear. Through the trees ahead of him he saw a familiar form. It was the
Falcon
, resting on her landing legs amid a few torn branches and another swathe of blackened earth, but otherwise looking perfectly sound after her plunge from the sky. And the tracks led straight for her.

Gribbs made a cautious circuit of the ship, but there was no sign of movement. The track prints led up to the main hatch, he noticed, but did not return. The hatch itself was closed.

What should he do next? Qwaid should know somebody else, presumably more treasure seekers, had arrived here and were apparently using some sort of reconnaissance vehicle to spy out the land. But he wouldn't be pleased to learn it had somehow got aboard the
Falcon
, especially if he found out he'd been lying about the girl and so wasn't there to prevent it. On the other hand, how long could he afford to wait and do nothing?

Then the decision was made for him as the main hatch swung open.

'Don't skulk amongst the trees, Gribbs. Come inside, I want to talk to you,' Alpha's voice boomed from the darkness within.

For a moment Gribbs thought he was going to faint, and the world blurred around him while a sick knot began to tie itself in his stomach. Then he recovered, swallowing down hard.

'Do not keep me waiting, Gribbs.'

There was a slightly odd quality to the voice, but It definitely did not come from the cabin speaker. It was not a recording. It was Alpha.

'M-Mr Alpha, sir...' he called out tremulously. 'It was Qwaid's idea. Me and Drorgon had nothing to do with it, honest.'

'To do with what, Gribbs? You'd better come in and tell me all about it. In fact I want you to tell me everything that's been happening for the past few days, Gribbs. Every detail. Do you think you can do that?'

'Y-yes Mr Alpha... uh, you aren't angry with me?'

'That rather depends on what you've been doing, doesn't it?

But I will be angry if we continue this conversation in such a manner any longer, Gribbs. Come inside at once.'

Swaying like a man mounting the steps to the guillotine, Gribbs climbed the ramp and peered inside. The hatch closed smoothly behind him, not quite muffling his involuntary cry of fear and amazement.

In the white pyramid, Shalvis lifted her head as she let her mental projection fade.

'Alpha has arrived as expected,' she announced to the assembled Seers.

'And our powers will not affect him?' one asked.

'No. In any case our trust is inviolate. We may not interfere directly. Evil though he is, Alpha has rights. He must be defeated within the laws of the quest. We can only hope that all else we foresaw also comes to pass.'

Falstaff was huddled in the hollow at the base of a tree. He stared at them blankly at first as Myra gently encouraged him to uncurl, and mutely accepted a drink from her flask and a ration bar. For some reason he kept pawing uneasily at the front of his jacket. Slowly, full awareness returned to his eyes.

'My,' he said shakily, 'but Old Jack's soul was put through the mangle last night and no mistake. Perhaps this was a step too far. I suggest a strategic retreat. I should never have ignored my own dictum: discretion is the better part of -'

'We've heard it,' Thorrin said sharply. 'But nonetheless we are going on. You can follow us or not as you wish.'

'Exactly,' said the Marquis, regarding Falstaff with a trace of contempt. 'Some of us have an obligation to fulfil -'

Arnella, who had been very quiet, suddenly said, 'Uncle please don't talk about obligations!' And she turned her back on him and stomped away.

Through the screen of trees they watched the other gang gradually assemble itself and set off. Qwaid let them get safely ahead, noted the course they were following, then he Drorgon, and the Doctor moved on to a parallel path.

'Isn't it about time you called Gribbs?' the Doctor reminder him. 'I want to be sure Peri has recovered safely.'

Qwaid tapped the call button. It took Gribbs a minute to answer, and when he came on the line there was a slightly forced tone in his response.

'Hi, Qwaid. Everything's fine here,'he said quickly. 'It had better be. What about the ship?'

'Oh, it's fine too. Came down on the emergency retros.

managed to get in and override the cutouts Mr Alpha had installed. It's all ready any time you need it. Soon as you find the treasure we'll be over to pick it up. Just give the word -'

'OK, OK. Now what about the girl? The Doc's worried about her.'

'Oh, she's fine...'

'Well put her on.'

'Er, right. Yes. I'll, er, just get her...'

There was a pause, then Peri's voice came over the line. 'Hi, Doctor. I'm fine, how are you?'

'Are you sure? You must have had quite a knock.'

'Just a bit of a headache. Mr Gribbs has been a perfect gentleman looking after me, but I think he's only going to stay that way as long as you keep helping Qwaid. So please find the treasure as soon as you can so I can get out of here.'

Red had found his way through the woods with little help from Peri. The misleading signposts were still blank, and she could only recall for certain a few of the turnings, but Red had bounded along with hardly a pause. She wondered if he had a better idea of where they were going than she did. Was he scenting their previous trail? Of course: this was his own back yard, so to speak, and a specially bred carriage animal, the product of exotic genetic engineering perhaps, might be created with the ability to find his way about with little or no guidance.

The wood thinned and then before them was the unreal expanse of the tiled plain. Peri scowled at the prospect of crossing it for the third time, but it had to be done.

'Now you've got to step carefully here,' she said firmly to Red, hoping her words or thoughts were getting through. 'We've got to find the right sequence of colours, otherwise the ground drops out from under your feet, and that's no fun, believe me.'

But even as she spoke she felt the pocketing around the stirrups contract up and around her feet and calves, holding them fast. 'Hey, what are you doing -' Simultaneously the saddle back and the pommel hoop hinged and slid forward respectively, forcing her into a posture not unlike that of a racing jockey. Red gathered his legs under him as though to spring.

'Now just a minute -'

He bounded forward and Peri had to save all her breath for hanging on. Red was following the rainbow sequence perfectly, but he was touching only every other tile.

Gribbs turned off the comm link and nervously faced the other occupant of the
Falcon's
control cabin, trying not to make direct eye contact as he did so. They were nothing like Alpha's eyes had been, for a very good reason, but he still did not want to look at them.

'That should put their minds at rest, don't you think, Gribbs?'

'Uh, sure, Mr Alpha. That was, er, some performance on your part.'

'Simply a voice synthesiser unit, Gribbs. I accessed the ship's log recordings of your recent conversations with Qwaid and duplicated the girl's voice and superficial mannerisms. Now all we have to do is allow Qwaid and his assistants to locate Rovan's treasure and give us its location. From the recordings it seems that this "Doctor" person is not unintelligent. He should compensate for Qwaid's grosser deficiencies.'

'Oh, right, Mr Alpha. He will that. And when he's done that we just... pick it up?'

'More or less, Gribbs. I want to give Qwaid a surprise, you see.

You do think he'll be surprised to see me, don't you?'

Oh, he'll be surprised, that's for sure, Gribbs thought miserably.

The far edge of the dead forest was marked by a continuous line of fencing. Through this they could see an open expanse of rocky ground.

The fence itself was formed of black tubular posts, perhaps three metres high and spaced some ten metres apart, linked by black rails slotted alternately into them. There was not enough space between the rails to pass between them, but Myra judged that it should be simple enough to climb over, the horizontal rails making in effect broad ladder-like steps. She wondered vaguely what material they were made of. It had to be extremely rigid to support itself without any apparent sagging over such long spans. She reached out to test it, then jerked her hand back with a yell.

'What's wrong?' Brockwell asked with concern. 'Is it electrified?'

'No, but don't anyone touch it. Look carefully at the edges of the rails.'

Cautiously they did so.

The rails were similar to thin I-beams in cross section, and about twenty-five centimetres broad. But the horizontal edges of their upper and lower flanges were literally razor sharp. In addition, another razor-like ridge rose perpendicularly from between them, pointing vertically up and down. Any attempt to grasp or step on the rail for the purposes of climbing would result in serious lacerations.

'Hmm, an ingenious contrivance,' said Thorrin, examining the railing.

'A cruel trap,' said Myra. 'Suppose you reached it at night, with some imaginary horror at you heels? Would you notice the blades in time? How well can you apply bandages with your fingers cut to ribbons?

'Cruel perhaps, but necessary,' the Marquis said quietly. 'I beg you pardon?' said Brockwell.

'Never mind,' said the Marquis.

'Whatever its morality, it prevents us from leaving this evil place,' said Falstaff. 'And I for one do not propose to spend another night here.' And he reversed his staff and drove its metal ferrule hard against the side of one of the vertical blades. Despite its thinness, it did not break or chip, and the rail itself merely shivered slightly under the force of the blow.

'Some sort of toughened synthetic,' Thorrin pronounced. 'We must either wrap enough spare items of clothing and bedrolls over it to protect ourselves while we climb, or else see if our pistols can be set to burn through a section.'

'Can we dig under it?' Brockwell wondered. He bent down and experimentally began scooping at the earth below the lowest rail.

Suddenly he jerked his hand away. There was another rail buried just below the surface, linking the bases of the fence posts.

'Oh well, it was a good idea,' said Arnella sympathetically.

Brockwell risked a small quick smile of thanks.

The Marquis was looking up at the trees, some of which overhung the fence. 'Perhaps it would be possible to swing over on our climbing lines.'

'We could try sliding one of the rails aside; said Myra, who had been examining the nearest fence post. 'They don't seem to be secured in any way, and the slots they sit in run right through. I think I can push the end of a rail from the other side...' She thrust the end of her staff into the slot, and the rail, surprisingly light for its size, slid free and dropped to the ground. It was as easy as that.

At least Falstaff had the decency to laugh heartily. Thorrin looked put out.

With a rail removed it left a gap of almost eighty centimetres, through which they stepped carefully one by one. There was a sense of palpable relief to have the fence between them and the forest.

'I think we should replace this section,' said the Marquis, once they were all safely through. 'Should those criminals come this way it may slow them down.'

'I shouldn't think it will make much difference; said Thorrin, with a touch of his former self-assurance. They must be far behind us by now.'

'Don't underestimate Qwaid.' Myra said sharply. 'He might not have Alpha's brains, but he's determined. And if he's forced the Doctor to help him he might not be short of brains either.'

'I bow to your superior knowledge of the mental processes of the underworld,' said Thorrin heavily. 'By all means replace it.

But then can we please proceed?'

They gingerly edged the rail back in place by lifting it with their staffs. Then they set off across the open rocky plain, leaving the dark line of the dead forest, and all its nightmares, behind them.

As they plodded across the rocky wasteland, Willis Brockwell dropped back until he was walking beside Myra. 'I'm sorry about the professor,' he said quietly.

'What do you mean?'

'The way he spoke to you back there. It wasn't like him. I know, I've worked with him for years. I mean he can be short tempered and a bit overbearing at times, but he usually apologises for it afterwards. It's this quest business. He's become... well, fixated on finding this cursed treasure. I never thought money would have that sort of effect on him. He's made enough of it already after all.'

'Well, you never can tell what touches people that way. Like the Marquis, for instance.'

'Yes. What did he mean by "cruel... but necessary"?'