Doctor Who_ Underworld Part 5

Jackson stared at it in astonished fascination. 'What is it, Doctor?'

'That's your P7E.'

'Power reserves exhausted, Captain,' reported Tala.

Jackson didn't seem to hear her. 'What do you mean, Doctor, the P7E? That's a planet!'

'It's where your signal was coming from, all the same.'

'Where?'

'Right in the middle of it. The planet must have actually formed around it.'

Tala raised her voice. 'Captain, the power's gone.'

'That's it then,' said Jackson dully. 'There's nothing else we can do.'

Leela watched the grey planet zoom closer, filling the entire viewing-port. 'Are we going to crash?'

The Doctor nodded. 'At full speed. Sit down, everyone!'

Obediently the crew returned to their acceleration couches and strapped themselves in.

They waited in tense silence. In a calm electronic voice K9 began counting off the seconds to their doom. 'Impact in eleven seconds. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...'

The Minyan s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p sped through the thin atmosphere surrounding the planet, and headed for the level grey surface like a dart hurled at the ground. It struck the surface of the planet at maximum speed-and disappeared silently beneath it.

The Doctor opened his eyes. 'It's all right, Leela, you can look now.'

Leela opened her eyes and looked around, wondering why she was still alive.

The Doctor raised his voice. 'Relax, everyone. We've hit a soft planet, one still in process of formation. With any luck only the planetary core will be really solid-and this stuff should slow us down so we don't hit it with much of a bang.'

'We are two hundred and fifty kilometres below planetary surface,' reported K9. 'Speed decreasing.'

The danger over, Jackson's one obsessive interest came to life again. 'Orfe, the signal. See if you can find the signal.'

Orfe adjusted a control and the strange double beat filled the control room again, louder and clearer than before. 'That's it,' he shouted. 'Contact!'

'We've found it,' breathed Jackson. 'The P7E at last!'

The Doctor looked at Leela. 'Fascinating, isn't it? The Quest and nothing but the Quest!'

Orfe was using the communicator. 'Minyan Patrol Vessel to P7E... Minyan Patrol Vessel to P7E...'

There was no reply. 'They must hear us,'

muttered Jackson. 'We're right on top of them!'

There was a jarring crash, and everything went black.

Chapter Six.

The Trogs The crashed s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+p was jammed into the heart of the planet like a dart hurled into an ant-heap.

The network of interlinked tunnels which honey-combed the planetary core had been destroyed at the point of impact, and there were cracks and subsidences and roof-falls in the area all around. Like terrified ants, swarms of scrawny, undersized, ragged men and women ran to and fro through the tunnels, screaming with fear.

'The sky! The sky is falling.'

'It's all coming down on us...'

'Run... run...'

To these people, the network of branching tunnels was was the world, its roof the sky. Here they were born, here they toiled away their short, miserable lives, and here they died, to be replaced by others of the same kind. the world, its roof the sky. Here they were born, here they toiled away their short, miserable lives, and here they died, to be replaced by others of the same kind.

Even so, they had their dreams, their legends. Stories that life had not always been like this, prophecies that one day they would escape, through the sky, to the stars- whatever they were.

But such talk was forbidden, to be discussed only in whispers in the crowded darkness of the sleeping-caves.

Meanwhile they toiled and died, obeying the Guards, who were ruled by the Seers, who were servants of the Oracle.

Rebels were dealt with swiftly and mercilessly-the Sword of Sacrifice awaited anyone who questioned the established order.

There had been a particularly severe rockfall in one of the main tunnels, not far from the crash area. A whole section of roof had come down, obliterating an entire family who had been working together, as was the custom.

Now they were all buried beneath the rockpile, the wife and the two daughters. There were two survivors, father and son, who had been chipping at the rock a little apart from the others.

The father was called Idmon, a wizened, balding man, dressed in the brief, ragged smock that all the tunnel workers wore. His son, Idas, was still wiry and strong, though in a very few years he would become a replica of his father. Men aged fast in the tunnels.

The two men were scrabbling frantically, hopelessly at the rockpile that had buried their loved ones, choking in the powdered rock-dust that filled the air. They were sobbing as they worked, the tears making little streaks in their grime-covered faces. A huddled group of their fellow-workers stood watching them apathetically.

Idmon straightened up from his hopeless task, and turned on the watchers. 'Help us, d.a.m.n you-help us!'

'They won't help, father,' said Idas wearily. 'Don't waste your breath!'

Life in the tunnels didn't encourage the n.o.bler qualities. The struggle to survive took up all your strength-there was none to spare for helping others. The watchers turned away, ignoring the old man's appeal.

Idmon shook his skinny fist at them. 'Then may the sky fall on you! May the sky fall on your families!'

'Father, no,' shouted Idas. 'The Guards will hear!' Any reference to Skyfalls, actual or possible, was strictly forbidden.

Idmon was beside himself with rage and grief. 'May the sky fall on your loved ones, as it has on mine!' he screamed.

'Please, father, just dig!'

Idmon began scrabbling frantically at the rockpile. 'My children,' he sobbed. 'My children...'

High in the tunnel wall, a remote control camera studied the scene with its single crystal eye.

In a steel-walled control room, the camera's eye view was reproduced on a monitor screen, one of a bank that filled most of one wall.

Two sinister black-clad figures entered the room. They wore pointed hoods, eyes gleaming evilly through the slits.

Their appearance was deliberately designed to be terrifying. They were Senior Guards, and their task was to maintain order in the tunnels. They pulled off their hoods, revealing heavy brutal faces.

The spy-cameras were one of the Guards' most important weapons, Anything that happened in the tunnels could be seen and heard in this central control room. If necessary, a squad of Guards was despatched to deal with any emergency.

The wall to the left of the monitor bank bore a huge electronic chart of the tunnel system. It looked like an enormous tree, with the great main tunnel the trunk, smaller ones branches and twigs. The chart was constantly being altered as new tunnels were built, and old ones closed down. So vast was the network that it was impossible to monitor it all at once. The Guards maintained a kind of random scan, hoping that any trouble would reveal itself sooner or later. The Guard began punching up random shots of the tunnels.

This particular Guard was called Tarn; his colleague's name was Rask. Both were big, powerful men, very different from the wizened tunnel workers. They regarded the 'Trogs', as they called them, as little better than animals, necessary evils to be kept constantly under control. Trogs didn't use the regeneration process to prolong their lives. They were weak and ignorant and ragged, creatures to be despised.

It never occurred to Tarn or Rask or any of the other Guards that generations of ill-treatment had made the Trogs what they were. Guards took it for granted that the Trogs obeyed them-just as they themselves obeyed the Seers, and the Seers obeyed the Oracle, who ruled over all.

Tarn looked up from the monitor. 'Skyfall on Eight - and a Trog making trouble.'

Rask was studying the wall chart. Sections of the design were flickering to designate damaged tunnels. Others were dark, where tunnels had been closed down. He turned and glanced at the monitor. 'Many dead?'

'Not enough,' said Tarn brutally. 'There were two more births yesterday, they breed like animals. What we need is a good sacrifice. Trogs always work better after a sacrifice!'

Rask put on his hood. 'Maybe you're right. I'll take out a patrol and pickup that troublemaker.'

A few minutes later he was leading a squad of hooded figures through the tunnels.

Inside the crashed patrol vessel, things were getting back to normal. The dim emergency lights were on, and everyone had picked themselves up, none the worse except for a collection of bruises. The Doctor and Leela had been released, their prisoner status forgotten. Now they were all gathered expectantly in the short corridor to the airlock, the Minyans in surface patrol suits.

'Everything's ready, sir,' reported Orfe.

'Right. Open up.'

The airlock door slid open-to reveal a wall of solid rock.

The Doctor examined it. 'Igneus haemat.i.te by the look of it-we must have reached the core of the planet.'

Leela struggled to remember her recently acquired scientific education. 'I thought you told me planets had fire in the middle.'

'Did I? Well, old planets like Earth maybe, but new ones like this sometimes have a molten slurry around a solid core. We're on the very edge of creation here, Leela, a place of cosmic experiment. All the laws of science may be in a state of flux!'

Leela sighed. As usual, the Doctor's explanation left her no wiser.

The Doctor prodded the rock wall. 'All we need to do now is burrow our way out of here.'

'How, Doctor?' asked Jackson helplessly. 'The s.h.i.+p's power system is self-regenerating-it will re-charge itself from the radiation of the planet. But that will take time. At the moment we've no power, no energy-source at all.'

'Oh, I don't know about that,' said the Doctor cheerfully. 'What about the s.h.i.+eld guns?'

Jackson frowned, annoyed that he hadn't thought of this himself. The s.h.i.+eld guns had an almost inexhaustible atomic power pack in the b.u.t.t. 'Yes, of course. Herrick, get the s.h.i.+eld guns, right away!'

The rock pile was so huge it would have taken days to clear it away. By now anyone underneath it was certainly dead.

Idmon had realised the hopelessness of his task and had given up. Crazed with grief and rage, he was again haranguing the little group around him, ignoring the terrified Idas's attempts to shut him up.

'You all know we're slaves to the Guards,' he shouted.

'The Guards are slaves to the Seers, the Seers to the Oracle.

We're all slaves. But we know the answer, don't we? We all know the answer because it was prophesied long ago.

Escape!' He pointed upwards. 'Escape to the stars!'

A harsh voice shouted, 'Now!' and hooded figures sprang from the shadows. Idmon's audience screamed and fled in terror, while Idmon himself was seized and borne to the ground.

Idas moved to help him, but Idmon screamed, 'No, Idas-run!'

Idas turned and fled.

'After him!' screamed Rask.

Idas scrambled up the rock pile, two Guards close behind him. There was a tiny gap at the top, and Idas wriggled through with ease. It took the bulkier Guards some time to follow, and by the time they were through the gap, Idas was disappearing round a bend in the tunnel.

They set off after him.

Rask jabbed Idmon in the ribs with a booted foot.

'Heresy, treason, incitement to escape. Quite a list.'

Idmon glared defiantly at the hooded figure above him.