Doctor Who_ Deep Blue Part 26

The Doctor shrugged. 'I never judge by appearances.'

The mouths smiled. 'Then that is something we have in common. To we Xaranti, all forms, all species, have something to offer us. We celebrate the great variety of life forms in the Universe.'

The Doctor's face hardened. 'That's not the same thing at all. You don't appreciate variety for its own sake. You celebrate it only because of what it adds to yourselves. By recreating other species in your own image, you're making mockery of life, denigrating the essence that makes each race unique.'

'We liberate liberate other species, Doctor,' the figure said. 'We do not destroy them. They grow stronger through us.' other species, Doctor,' the figure said. 'We do not destroy them. They grow stronger through us.'

'No,' the Doctor snapped, his face flus.h.i.+ng with anger. 'You don't liberate, you enslave. You absorb their individuality into this great repository of yours and turn them into mindless drones, creatures driven by nothing more than negative rudimentary emotions and a basic hive mentality. Conquest through absorption. It's what the Cybermen do, and the Wirrrn. It's the most heinous crime in the universe.'

'Soon you will become part of us, Doctor,' the figure said, its voices imbued with smugness. 'Soon you will celebrate the fact that all life exists within us just as we celebrate it.'

'I don't think so,' the Doctor replied quietly.

'You have no choice, Doctor. You are becoming us.'

'I'm afraid that's where you're wrong,' the Doctor countered. 'I'll never become you. I'll never join you. I'll never see life through your eyes. In fact, I'm here to offer you the chance to withdraw the infection you've set in motion on this planet and leave before I get cross. Rather sporting of me, I think you'll agree.'

'Withdraw the infection?' The voices chuckled. 'It is already too late, Doctor.'

'There's an old Earth saying - it's never too late. But then you probably already know that.' Steel entered the Doctor's voice. 'You know as well as I do how you can withdraw the contagion.'

'Do we?' the voices said innocently.

'Yes. You can think it back.'

The Xaranti queen did not respond immediately and the Doctor smiled and nodded. 'I'm right, aren't I? There are no toxins, no germs, no bacteria involved in this infection of yours. It's psychological warfare, a thought-plague. You simply release this gloop of yours into the water where it's ingested or absorbed, firstly by marine and then by animal life. The gloop contains telepathic suggestions encoded at a molecular level, which then persuade the host body that it is metamorphosising. It's an impressive feat, I'll give you that, making people change physically simply by planting the belief that they're going to do so inside their heads, but it's ultimately flawed. Because when it comes down to it, it's simply a question of mind over matter. All it takes is a stronger mind than your own to expose the whole process for the sham it is.'

The Xaranti queen spoke, and just for an instant its many voices seemed to coalesce into something deep and melodious, before splitting once again into its const.i.tuent parts. 'You are a clever man, Doctor. How did you come by your discovery?'

'Oh, process of elimination,' said the Doctor airily. 'There was nothing very clever about it really. I ran some of the infected material through an exhaustive programme of a.n.a.lysis in the TARDIS, but could find no physical reason why the infection was taking place. In desperation I dug out an old lash-up of mine which reproduces thoughts as images, and decided that if I couldn't read the stuff physically I'd try reading it mentally.' He smiled. 'The results were extremely interesting, as I'm sure you can imagine. Improvisation has always been my watchword.'

If the figure had been human it might have shaken its head in dismissal. 'Your discovery is not important,' it said.

'Nothing has changed.'

'Oh, it has,' the Doctor insisted, and, reaching into his jacket pocket, drew out a flask of clear liquid and held it up.

Did the eyes opening and closing lazily within the iridescent flux widen a little in alarm, or was that simply the Doctor's imagination? Certainly its many voices sounded wary. 'What is that?'

'Antidote,' said the Doctor brightly. 'I threw it together in the TARDIS.' He unstoppered the flask and drank the contents in three gulps.

The effects were almost instantaneous. The cloud of Xaranti infection faded from the Doctor's eyes, the spines on his hands and neck withered and shrank until there was no evidence that they had ever been there, and the hump on his back deflated, enabling him to draw himself once more to his full height.

'You see?' he said, holding the flask up. 'Mind over matter.'

'There is no mind that can combat ours, and therefore there is is no antidote,' the figure said angrily. 'It is a trick.' no antidote,' the figure said angrily. 'It is a trick.'

'You can't deny the evidence of your own eyes,' the Doctor retorted. 'I believed believed that this was an antidote and therefore it became one. It destroyed your infection just as I can make you believe it will destroy you.' that this was an antidote and therefore it became one. It destroyed your infection just as I can make you believe it will destroy you.'

The mouths and eyes were forming and fading more rapidly now, the flux quivering as if in agitation. 'Your mind is no match for ours, Time Lord,' the figure said, its voice now sounding like the hiss of its own creatures.

'Isn't it?' said the Doctor mildly, and withdrew a second flask from his other pocket. 'Why don't you take some of your own medicine and find out?'

He hurled the flask at the metal column that contained the s.h.i.+p's energy core. The gla.s.s shattered against it, spraying the figure with clear liquid that only the Doctor knew was tap water from the TARDIS. Instantly the strange, s.h.i.+mmering substance of the figure's flesh began to blister and liquefy, to blacken and steam. The Xaranti queen's mouths opened in unison and released a single, fractured, ear-splitting scream.

Words formed within the scream, high and undulating.

' Releeeease usssss Releeeease usssss...'

'I'll release you when you release this planet!' the Doctor shouted, and his voice became almost pleading. 'Go now before it's too late!'

Without waiting for a reply he turned on his heels and strode from the room.

Tegan opened her eyes and looked around. She saw a sea of faces regarding her with wary alarm. She recognised none of them; nor did she recognise the thin-faced young man who was crouching beside her. She thought his eyes looked kind, and relaxed slightly - then she noticed he was holding a gun.

'Where am I?' she demanded. She glared at the young man.

'Who are you?'

'Tegan,' the young man said, surprising her with her name, 'are you all right?'

'Why shouldn't I be?' Uncertainty was making her angry.

Her glance swept across the group of people, many in pyjamas and dressing gowns, still watching her as if she was a wild animal they had cornered in the woods.

'Her eyes look fine now,' one old man said.

A large black man with a sweaty face who was wearing some sort of grey-blue uniform that made Tegan think of hospitals replied, 'It could be a trick. I mean, she's still got those things all over her.'

Tegan looked down at her hands and bare arms and saw black thorns jutting from her flesh. Her voice grew shrill with panic. 'What's going on? What's happening to me?'

'It's OK,' the young man said gently, soothingly. 'How much do you remember?'

Tegan tried to think. 'I remember... I remember leaving Sea Base Four with the Doctor and Turlough. After that, it's all a blur.'

'Look!' a woman said suddenly, pointing at Tegan. 'Look at her arms!'

Tegan looked just as everyone else did, dreading what she might see this time. But the thorns poking through her flesh were beginning to shrivel, to shrink. In less than a minute they had disappeared, the bloodless wounds they had made closing up, leaving not so much as a blemish on her skin.

'She's beaten it,' the woman who had pointed at her arms gasped in awe.

'I still think it's a trick,' the black man muttered.

The young man crouching beside her rounded on him. 'Of course it's not a trick, Max. Don't be so paranoid.' He holstered his gun, turned back to Tegan and took her hands.

Smiling, looking into her eyes, he said, 'No, I really think she's cured.'

Turlough's lungs were bursting. If his limbs were not being held in a vice-like grip he would have been thras.h.i.+ng with panic. The urge to breathe was almost overwhelming; he wouldn't be able to fight it for much longer, even though he knew that sucking in a breath would fill him with nothing but sea water. Sergeant Benton's hand on the back of his head was like a ma.s.sive weight bearing down on his skull.

Turlough didn't know whether the soldiers were trying to drown him or infect him, and at that moment he didn't much care. All he wanted was to be allowed to breathe.

As soon as the TARDIS had de-materialised the soldiers had moved in and grabbed him and carried him down to the sea. Turlough had protested, but they had been wordless, robotic. They had waded in almost to their waists before dunking him under. It seemed a long, long time ago now since he had last drawn breath, though it couldn't have been more than a minute or so.

I'm going to die! he thought, and the words were like screams in his head. he thought, and the words were like screams in his head. I'm going to die on this horrible planet in I'm going to die on this horrible planet in this horrible century and it's all the Doctor's fault! this horrible century and it's all the Doctor's fault! He had heard it said that drowning was a not unpleasant death, but this was worse than any nightmare he had ever had. All at once something clenched inside him, some instinctive muscular contraction caused him to inhale, and suddenly sea water was rus.h.i.+ng up his nose and down his throat. He had heard it said that drowning was a not unpleasant death, but this was worse than any nightmare he had ever had. All at once something clenched inside him, some instinctive muscular contraction caused him to inhale, and suddenly sea water was rus.h.i.+ng up his nose and down his throat.

This time panic surged through him so powerfully that his body jerked and spasmed in the soldiers' hands. Then he was floating, weightless, and he thought: This is it. This is death. This is it. This is death.

It took him a moment to realise that his limbs were free and that there was no longer a hand gripping the back of his skull, holding his head underwater. Turlough thrashed and flapped, kicking down with his legs, trying to find solid ground beneath him. He was disorientated, his lungs were as painful as open wounds, and his heart was a thick, heavy pulse that seemed to be squeezing his thoughts smaller and smaller. The sea felt stronger than he was, the inexorable suck of its tide upending him, dragging him along the sea bed. Just as the crus.h.i.+ng weight of unconsciousness threatened to engulf him completely, his head broke the surface of the water.

The sun was a hot, bright slap across his eyes. Turlough desperately wanted to suck in air, but he emerged coughing and retching, seawater rus.h.i.+ng back up out of his mouth and nose, tasting like blood. Finally the water stopped coming and Turlough took a deep, gulping breath, then immediately winced; his lungs felt bruised, as if he had been kicked repeatedly in the ribs. He was still floundering in the water, barely holding his head above the surface. Steadying himself, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and stood up.

He was surprised to find that the sea only came up to his thighs. He blinked, swiping water from his face, and saw that he was facing the sh.o.r.e. The Brigadier, Sergeant Benton and the four UNIT soldiers who had been holding him under were behaving very curiously indeed. They were convulsing, their faces twisted in anguish, as if a powerful electrical charge was being pa.s.sed through them. As Turlough watched, astounded, the six men collapsed one by one, the Brigadier on the beach, the others in the shallows as the froth of dying waves fizzed around them. Up on the promenade, Xaranti hybrids which Turlough had glimpsed patrolling to and fro like border guards, were convulsing and collapsing in a similar manner.

What was happening? Could it be something to do with the Doctor? As if thinking about his friend had willed him to return, Turlough heard the familiar grinding roar of the TARDIS's engines. Next moment, by the sea's edge, a faint blue outline s.h.i.+mmered into view and quickly solidified. The door opened just as an extra-large wave surged up the beach and slapped over the rim of the TARDIS, drenching the emerging Doctor's white cricket boots. He looked down at his soaked footwear ruefully. 'Slight miscalculation,' he said.

Then, as the wave receded, he leaped out of the TARDIS and ran across the wet sand towards the unconscious Brigadier.

'Help me get these men inside,' he shouted to Turlough, heaving the Brigadier expertly on to his shoulders in a fireman's lift and jogging with him towards the TARDIS.

Turlough, dripping wet, waded towards the sh.o.r.e. He had an entire skeleton of bones to pick with the Doctor. 'You abandoned me!' he exclaimed, hearing the wheedling quality in his voice that Tegan always commented upon, and hating it. 'I could have been drowned.'

'Yes, yes, we'll talk about that later,' the Doctor said briskly. 'Now come on, we haven't got much time.'

'Before what?' Turlough said.

The Doctor nodded up at the vast, drab bulk of the Morok s.h.i.+p towering above them. 'Before that thing takes off and gives us all a tan we'll never recover from.'

He disappeared into the TARDIS with the Brigadier and emerged again almost immediately. Turlough sighed. He could see now why Tegan always got so frustrated. She simply never had time to sit down with the Doctor and properly air her many grievances; there was always something more urgent to do. He splashed through the shallows and lifted Sergeant Benton's legs while the Doctor grabbed him under the armpits. 'Where's Tegan?' Turlough asked as they carried Benton's solid bulk, made even heavier by his wet clothes, into the TARDIS.

'Safe,' the Doctor said, lowering Benton's dripping, unconscious form to the floor of the console room, beside the Brigadier.

As they carried the third soldier into the TARDIS, Turlough exclaimed, 'Doctor!'

'What is it?'

'The Xaranti infection. It's vanished.'

It was true. With everything that had happened in the last few minutes it was only now that Turlough had noticed the spines on the men's skin and the growing humps on each of their backs had disappeared.

'Yes,' said the Doctor, grinning. 'Miraculous, isn't it?' He laid the man next to his colleagues and ran out for the next one, leaving any further explanations still-born.

Less than a minute later, the Doctor and Turlough were hurrying towards the TARDIS with the last soldier. A few steps from the open door, Turlough heard a dry, scuttling sound and looked up. 'Doctor!' he called.

The incoming tide had perhaps another hundred yards of sand to cover before it came up against the sea wall.

Swarming over that wall now, and dropping down on to the beach thirty feet below, were dozens, perhaps hundreds of mature Xaranti. They were moving strangely, lop-sidedly, like injured crabs, scuttling and scrambling over one another in their cluttering, high-pitched panic. They were moving in one direction only, towards their mother-s.h.i.+p, which meant that in another ten or fifteen seconds they would be swarming over and around the TARDIS.

'Inside, quickly!' the Doctor said. He and Turlough covered the gap to the TARDIS at a run, carrying the soldier between them. They laid the man down, then the Doctor leaped across to the console and yanked back the lever that closed the TARDIS doors. Turlough, meanwhile, switched on the scanner and watched as the bristling ma.s.s of Xaranti rushed past them. Their purloined s.h.i.+p had extended ramps like lolling tongues, which lapped up the Xaranti and gulped them into the craft's interior.

'Time to go,' the Doctor said from the console where he had been setting coordinates. Turlough was unsure whether he was referring to themselves or the Xaranti. The Doctor pulled the lever that would propel the TARDIS into the s.p.a.ce/Time vortex and then frowned.

'Turlough,' he said sternly, 'you're dripping on my floor.'

For two minutes after the TARDIS had de-materialised, the Xaranti continued to pour into the Morok s.h.i.+p. At last they were all aboard and the ramps that had extended to admit them were retracted before the doors slid closed. Immediately six portals, evenly-s.p.a.ced around the body of the s.h.i.+p, opened like eyes, and a cannon-like tube extended smoothly from each one. These tubes extended so far, then bent downwards in the middle at a forty-five degree angle, quickly becoming jointed, telescopic supporting struts. As soon as their tips had embedded themselves in the sand, there was a deep rumbling sound and two large cavities opened at the base of the Morok craft, one on each side. The gigantic caterpillar tracks that had been used to trundle across the sea-bed and up on to the beach lifted up from the sand, tipped slowly sideways with a growling of powerful machinery and folded themselves neatly into the belly of the s.h.i.+p.

Once the cavities had rumbled closed, sealing the caterpillar tracks inside, the Morok s.h.i.+p looked less like the kind of tank that could flatten houses and more like a conventional s.p.a.ce craft. There was a pause, then the s.h.i.+p began to growl and shake as if building itself into a rage.

Slowly the growling increased in volume and pitch and the shaking grew more intense until suddenly four columns of fire - pink and orange threads twisting like agonised spirits in the blinding whiteness - gouted from the ma.s.sive thrusters at the base of the s.h.i.+p, accompanied by black, boiling plumes of smoke which sullied the pristine blue of the sky.

The supporting struts snapped back into the s.h.i.+p's interior as the columns of flame struggled to lift the Morok craft from the expanding pool of boiling clinker it was bequeathing the Earth. The s.h.i.+p seemed to groan, its engines screamed - and then it was free, and lumbering skywards. It rose and rose until it was nothing but a black speck trailing fire, and then finally less than that - the merest glint of flame.

The tide rushed over the glowing pool of molten rock that the s.h.i.+p's departure had created, turning instantly to a furiously hissing cloud of steam.

Mike and Charlotte had just finished filling Tegan in on the events of the past two days when the materialising TARDIS swept panic through the R and D unit. Charlotte scrambled clear of the howling roar of the engines and ducked behind the nearest bed. Max Butler took several steps backwards before tripping over his own feet and plumping unceremoniously on to his backside.

'What the h.e.l.l is that?' that?' Max cried, clearly at the end of his tether. Max cried, clearly at the end of his tether.

'The TARDIS, of course,' Tegan said as if it was obvious.

Mike jumped up, raising his hands placatingly, as the craft solidified and the roar of its engines faded. 'There's no need to panic,' he shouted, feeling like Corporal Jones in Dad's Dad's Army. Army. 'This is a friend. He's come to help us.' 'This is a friend. He's come to help us.'

I hope, he thought, crossing his fingers, remembering that the last time he had seen the Doctor he had been infected by the virus. He tensed, his hand moving instinctively to the b.u.t.t of his holstered gun, as the TARDIS doors opened. he thought, crossing his fingers, remembering that the last time he had seen the Doctor he had been infected by the virus. He tensed, his hand moving instinctively to the b.u.t.t of his holstered gun, as the TARDIS doors opened.