Dr. Who - BBC New Series 25 (21 page)

He stopped abruptly in front of another petal-like opening. He raised a hand to knock, but before he could do so the ‘petals’ folded back. ‘Looks like we’re expected,’ the Doctor said. ‘Normally I’d say “after you”, but you’d better let me go first.’

He stepped into the opening and strode along the short, throat-like corridor ahead. Ranjit followed, goggling at his surroundings, still overcome by the sheer wonder of the alien craft. He found it hard to believe that he was actually inside
the ball of light which had fallen from the sky over a week ago. Although everything was made of strange metals and some kind of shiny rubber, he was reminded of both a thick jungle and the belly of some great fish which had swallowed them whole.

He followed the Doctor into an oddly shaped room, full of more of the rubbery vines and incredible machinery.

His mouth dropped open when he saw that in the centre of

the room, suspended like a spider in its web, was a huge black plant with hundreds of blinking eyes. Unable to speak, Ranjit looked at Gandhi, and was astonished to see that he was staring up at the plant with clasped hands, a rapt expression on his face. There were even tears glinting in his eyes, as if the horrible creature was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

The Doctor didn’t even seem to notice the plant creature at first. He walked over to a blue box on the left-hand side of the room and patted it like a pet dog. ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said, and then he spun round, strode up to the plant and pointed a finger at it.

‘As for you, sunny Jim, you’re a sneak and a liar, and you owe me a big fat apology.’ He folded his arms and scowled. Two seconds passed. ‘Well, come on, I’m waiting.’

Ranjit’s eyes opened wide as an icy, high-pitched voice filled the room. ‘You were foolish to come back here, Doctor.’

‘Yeah, yeah, people are always telling me that,’ the Doctor said. ‘Did you honestly think, Darac-7, that I’d just sit back and let you carry on helping yourself to members of the human race as if they were sweets on a pick ’n’ mix stand? Cos that’s so not gonna happen. Instead what you’re gonna do is power up those nasty little zytron engines of yours and vamoose out of here. And don’t think about starting up your filthy little racket elsewhere, cos I’m gonna see to it that the whole base of operations is found, closed down and the extraction factories dismantled. If I were you, I’d find a nice quiet planet

somewhere and keep your head low for a while. Right, I’ll give you one hour to pack up and go. First and last chance. See ya.’

He turned and strode away without waiting for an answer. However, he had taken no more than half a dozen steps when the air in front of the circular exit shimmered and a gelem warrior appeared, blocking his path. Almost immediately the air shimmered again, and four more gelem warriors materialised, two on either side of Gandhi and Ranjit, cutting off every avenue of escape. The Doctor sighed, as if this was no more than a minor irritation. He spun on his heel and approached the Jal Karath again.

‘You really don’t want to mess with me, Darac-7,’ he said grimly. ‘If you listen to what your pulse sensors are saying, you’ll know that your plans are already in ruins.

Your first consignment of human fodder is halfway back to Calcutta by now. We’ve penetrated your glamour, dismantled your stasis barrier and disabled half your precious workforce. Believe me, your best bet is to leave and never come back. You win some, you lose some. Why not just put this one down to experience, eh?’

Once again the icy voice of the Jal Karath filled the air.

‘I know that what you’re telling me is true, Doctor, but I’m afraid that I don’t accept defeat so easily. I’m a Hive-7 Jal Karath. We are the proudest and most patriotic of the eleven Hives. Unfortunately for you, that also makes us the most unforgiving.’

As if at some unspoken command, three of the gelem warriors lurched forward and grabbed the Doctor, Gandhi and Ranjit. Ranjit struggled fiercely, to no avail, but the

Doctor and Gandhi remained still.

‘Big mistake, Darac-7,’ said the Doctor in a low voice.

‘The mistake was yours, Doctor, by coming here. Now I’ll have to create more gelem warriors and start the harvest all over again. But you can help me take the first step.’

Ranjit was still struggling, but the gelem warrior held him in an iron grip. ‘What is he going to do with us, Mr Doctor?’ he wailed.

As if in reply, a panel slid open in the back wall, to reveal an open-fronted cabinet-like device. The cabinet thrummed into life, lights flickering through a tubular system of inner workings. The Doctor’s face twisted into an expression of abhorrence.

‘What is that contrivance, Doctor?’ Gandhi asked, his voice calm and steady.

‘It’s a extraction machine,’ said the Doctor. He glared up at the Jal Karath. ‘You can’t do this, Darac-7.’

There was a peculiar bubbling sound – the sound of alien laughter. ‘Oh, I think I can, Doctor. As you will imminently find out.’

‘No,’ the Doctor said, speaking quickly now, ‘you don’t understand. You really
can’t
do this. Listen to me, Darac-7. You wanted to know what species I was? I’m a Time Lord. The
last
of the Time Lords. The only survivor of the Last Great Time War. And as a Time Lord I’m telling you that you
can’t
put Mohandas Gandhi into that filthy machine. If you do, you’ll tear the timelines apart. You’ll plunge this planet, this whole galaxy, into a new Dark Age.’

There was a pause. Ranjit stared at the Doctor wide eyed.

Finally Darac-7 murmured, ‘Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor firmly, ‘it is. So here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a deal with you. Take me. Take the boy even.

But spare Gandhi. For the sake of the planet, let him go.’

There was a long pause. Then the Jal Karath said, ‘No.’

The Doctor’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean, “no”?’

‘I mean no, Doctor. I will not accept your terms. What do I care if this galaxy is torn apart?’

‘But… you’ll be caught up in it,’ the Doctor said desperately. ‘You’ll die along with everyone else.’

‘I’m not an idiot, Doctor. We both know that the effects of the time disruption will not be felt immediately. It will spiral slowly down through the causal nexus, unravelling history as it goes. By the time it impacts on this axis point I will be long gone.’

‘But… your harvest. Your precious warrior army.’

The quivering motion that rippled through the weed-like body of the Jal Karath was the equivalent of a shrug.

‘There are other worlds, other galaxies. Millions of them.’

Raising its voice it said, ‘Place the old man in the machine.’

‘
No!’ the Doctor yelled, struggling wildly. ‘No, Darac-7, you can’t!’

‘Don’t concern yourself, Doctor,’ said Gandhi as he was led, unresisting, to the cabinet at the back of the room. ‘I am not afraid to die. Fear of death makes us devoid of valour and faith.’

‘But you’re not meant to die
now
,’ said the Doctor, still struggling hopelessly.

Gandhi smiled. ‘If God says I am, then I am.

Everything is in His hands.’

Gandhi walked across the room, his back straight and his head held high, and stepped into the machine. His face remained serene as levered metal arms swung inwards from each of the four corners of the cabinet and clamped together in the centre, sealing him in. Instantly, with a rising whine like an accelerating engine, the machine powered up, coloured lights beginning to flow over Gandhi’s white-clad form. The Doctor slumped in his captive’s immovable grip, his hair flopping over his face as his head drooped forward.

The high-pitched whine of the extraction machine climbed and climbed, building to an ear-splitting crescendo… and then suddenly there was a loud bang. A huge shower of sparks erupted out of the top of the cabinet, followed by a thick black cloud of smoke. The machine itself began to judder, the high-pitched whine to

deepen and die as the power seeped away. Inside the machine, apparently unharmed, Gandhi looked around with an expression of mild interest.

The Jal Karath started to thrash and writhe in its web of technology. ‘What’s happening?’ it screamed. ‘I feel…

pain
.’

As though their command link had been cut off, the gelem warriors suddenly released the Doctor and Ranjit and stood motionless, their hands dropping to their sides.

Slowly the Doctor straightened up and raised his head.

There was a grim, knowing look on his face.

‘Thought that might happen,’ he said quietly. ‘I did warn you, Darac-7.’

Whatever fault had caused the extraction machine to overload now seemed to be having a knock-on effect on the rest of the ship’s systems. Things were sparking and burning-out all over the place. Thick black smoke was filling the room.

‘What did you do, Mr Doctor?’ Ranjit asked, ducking as a shower of sparks burst from what looked like a melting metal box close to his head.

‘Me? Nothing,’ said the Doctor. ‘It was Mohandas.

He’s just too good.’

The levered arms which had clamped Gandhi into the machine now sprang apart, releasing him. Stepping out, he overheard the Doctor’s words. ‘Good in what sense, Doctor?’

The Doctor was already darting from one of the ship’s failing systems to another, apparently looking for something. Suddenly he exclaimed, ‘Aha. You know what

this is?’

Both Gandhi and Ranjit shook their heads.

‘It’s an energy inversion module. And if I just refine the search parameters and set it at maximum…’ His fingers danced over an array of complex-looking controls, then he stepped back with a satisfied grin. His head whipped round and he stared at Gandhi. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

‘You said Bapu was too good, Mr Doctor,’ Ranjit reminded him.

‘Oh yeah, he is. Too good, too nice, too pure of heart.

You see, the extraction machine works by sucking all the badness out of people, like the juice from a lemon, and storing it to be used later. But now and again someone comes along who hasn’t got any badness in them – a genetic anomaly, or just someone with such incredible strength of mind that they’ve literally willed it away.

When that happens – and we’re talking… ooh, one out of every billion people here – the machine can’t cope. It’s like trying to boil a kettle with no water in it. Only problem for Darac-7 is that his kettle is linked to every other kitchen appliance, which in turn are linked to him…’

They ducked as an almighty explosion to their right scattered burning debris across a wide area. The Jal Karath screamed in pain.

‘… and I’m afraid that his warranty has just run out,’

concluded the Doctor. ‘Follow me.’

With the alien craft collapsing in flames around them, the Doctor ran across to the TARDIS. He unlocked the

door, bundled Gandhi and Ranjit ahead of him, and then leaped inside, slamming the door.

‘Everybody ready?’ Donna shouted.

She was at the centre of a massive human chain.

Together with Gopal, Becharji, the Campbells and Adelaide’s friend Edward Morgan, she had descended again to the cavern, issuing instructions to gather the unconscious and injured together into one area.

Gopal looked around to make sure everyone was in physical contact with the person beside them. He himself was holding the hand of an unconscious woman, whose other hand, in turn, was being held by a bewildered-looking man with a gash on his forehead. As far as he could see there were no breaks in the chain.

‘We are ready here, Donna,’ he called back.

‘Here too,’ Adelaide confirmed from the other side of the chain.

‘Mr C?’ Donna shouted, knowing that Sir Edgar’s link of the chain was behind her, stretching from him to Cameron, who was clinging to her elbow as if his life depended on it.

‘What? Oh yes,’ he called in his bluff tones. He sounded as if he was actually enjoying himself. ‘Chocks away!’

‘Please, Edgar,’ his wife said stiffly, ‘can’t you just—’

‘Right, hold on tight everybody,’ Donna yelled, taking some satisfaction from drowning out Mary Campbell’s wheedling voice. ‘Here we go!’

Trapped in its disintegrating web, the Jal Karath was contorted in agony.