Doctor Who_ The Twin Dilemma Part 7

Meanwhile, Peri, who had resigned herself to the fact that the dome would be her home for the rest of her natural life, had started to explore.

The first room she had discovered was the kitchen, complete with adjoining storeroom which contained enough food to keep a schoolful of hungry children sated for a millennium.

The delight of discovering that they wouldn't starve to death was somewhat dampened by the sight of the cooker. To say that an honours degree in theoretical engineering was necessary to successfully operate it, would have been an exaggeration. To observe that the controls resembled the flight deck of Concorde would not only have been cliched, but would also have been untrue. But to Peri, who had never even grasped the fundamentals of the microwave oven, learning to fly Concorde would have proved easier than learning how to boil water on such a monster.

Deciding that the Doctor would have to do the cooking, but then remembering how badly he did it, Peri left the kitchen feeling rather depressed.

The sight of the bedrooms, laboratories and greenhouse (the purpose of which was to provide the dome with fresh vegetables) lifted her spirits slightly. The library, considered the best this side of Magna Twenty-eight, lifted her spirits even more.

To die in the dome, she thought, wouldn't be a bad thing after all.

At least she wouldn't die ignorant.

And when she discovered the wine cellar, she also knew she wouldn't die sober.

Peri continued her tour of inspection, pa.s.sing through the power plant, workshops and a compact cinema equipped to show film, video and many other visual mediums she had never seen before.

It wasn't until she entered the last corridor that her heart really sank. Before her was a door with a purple flas.h.i.+ng light above it.

Written on the door was the legend: SELF-DESTRUCT CHAMBER. NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL ALLOWED.

ENTRY.

Not stopping to consider whether she was authorised or not, Peri pushed open the unlocked door. Inside the room she was greeted by a ma.s.sive console, which flashed and winked reminding her whimsically of the last high school prom she had attended.

After examining the console more closely, all humour evaporated from her spirit and she felt sick. The device had been set to explode.

At first the Doctor didn't recognise the sound of Peri calling, being too intent on solving the problem of the lock. But as the calling became more insistent, he abandoned his task and shuffled off.

On arriving at the self-destruct chamber, the Doctor soon confirmed that Peri's panic was fully justified and, if the timer was accurate, it was to explode in the next few minutes.

Quickly, the Time Lord set about trying to deactivate the device, but soon learnt why whoever had set it hadn't bothered to lock the door on leaving. The unit was sealed, safe from interfering fingers, including the Doctor's.

'What do we do now?' said Peri urgently.

'Find another way of getting out of here. And very soon!'

As they entered the main area, the Doctor crossed to the revitalising modulator and started to fiddle with its control unit.

'What are you doing?' demanded Peri.

'You must remain absolutely quiet,' snapped the Doctor. 'I need all my concentration.'

At least he sounded sane. Peri was concerned that the discovery of the self-destruct device might have proved too much and induced another change of personality. So far it hadn't. But how would fiddling with what looked like a gla.s.s box help them to escape?

The Doctor continued to work, rapdily reducing the control to a ma.s.s of wires and printed circuits. With increased speed, he set about removing several modular units from the main console.

After careful examination of the units, his face lit up. 'I can do it, Peri! I can do it!'

'Do what, though?'

'Get us out of here!'

Quickly he carried the units to the revitalisation chamber and started to connect them to the dismembered control panel, using wire Peri was ordered to steal from anywhere she could.

As he worked, the recurring question constantly came into his mind. Why had Azmael, at one time his greatest friend, set the self-destruct unit to explode?

The more he thought, the less sense it seemed to make.

Putting aside their friends.h.i.+p, Azmael must have known it would have taken weeks to break out of the dome. Whatever Azmael had planned, he would have had plenty of time to carry it out with little fear of the Doctor's interference.

The Time Lord worked on, his old energy and presence of mind having returned. He felt a new man. He only hoped that his fresh inner self would have time to mature and mellow. To be atomised on a barren, miserable planet, whose only claim to fame was that its atmosphere-created feelings of melancholia, was not the way he intended to say farewell to the universe.

When not cannibalising machinery for its wire, Peri constantly flitted back and forwards to the self-destruct chamber to check the timer.

Four minutes, it said.

As she returned to the Doctor with this particularly depressing piece of news, he ordered her to enter the revitalising modulator.

'Why?'

'Just get in,' the Doctor insisted.

'But what will happen to me?'

The Doctor paused for thought. He was fairly certain what he had done would work, therefore wasting time explaining the principles of something Peri wouldn't understand seemed unnecessary. On the other hand, if he had been mistaken in any part of his wiring, she would be atomised the moment he pressed the master control.

The Doctor's dilemma was to tell or not to tell.

Under more normal circ.u.mstances he would have been more than happy to explain what was about to happen, but with less than four minutes before the self-destruct device exploded, there wasn't really the time.

There was also the possibility that Peri would resist entering the modulator cabinet if she knew the truth. If she stopped to argue, and they ran out of time, she would die anyway.

So what was the point of an explanation? he thought. But what confused him even more was why he was bothering to convince himself when death was almost imminent.

Quickly, the Doctor pushed the complaining Peri into the machine and slammed the door. He then made some rapid calculations, pressed the master switch and watched his panic-stricken friend dematerialise.

What the Doctor had done was really quite simple. As explained, the function of a revitalising modulator is precisely the same as a matter transporter, only it doesn't send you anywhere. To convert the machine into a transporter requires two things: a directional beam locater (i.e. a way of telling the machine where you want to go) and a transmission sequence (i.e. a way of sending - through time and s.p.a.ce - what you've reduced to molecular globules).

By cannibalising various bits from the main console, the Doctor had managed to build or, more accurately, cobble together, the necessary components.

Whether they worked remained to be seen. Although Peri had dematerialised, she could in fact have been anywhere, in any condition, and that included being dead. But wherever she was and whatever state she was in, the Doctor would soon be joining her.

As the timer on the self-destruct device entered the last sixty seconds of its countdown, the Time Lord entered the revitalising modulator, set the controls and waited.

Nothing happened.

Frantically he checked the wiring for loose connections but found nothing. He then checked the master control - again nothing.

The countdown was now into its last thirty seconds.

As quickly as his shaking hands and panic-stricken mind would allow, the Doctor carefully rechecked his handywork, but still couldn't find the fault.

Finally, fraught with frustration and anger, he allowed his natural instinct as a trained and experienced scientist to take over. With all the energy and pa.s.sion of a lecherous stallion he gave the revitalising modulator the heftiest kick the weight and strength of his leg would allow.

If that didn't work, then nothing would.

Again the Doctor clambered into the cabinet, sealed the door and threw the main switch. This time he was reduced to a sea of sparkling light, then he slowly faded.

It had worked!

No sooner had he gone than the timer on the self-destruct mechanism reached zero, made an electrical connection and exploded, causing the building to vaporise.

Gone was the finest library this side of Magna Twenty-eight. Gone was the most complicated cooker ever built in the history of the universe. Gone were the ghosts of the demented souls who had built and originally occupied the dome. Gone was the computer containing their last, tortured literary jottings.

Gone was everything to do with the dome on t.i.tan Three.

It its place appeared a large, deep crater which was soon filled with grey dust.

Meanwhile at the TARDIS, two areas of s.p.a.ce were filled by the Doctor and Peri materialising in the console room.

Bemused and a little insulted, as neither of the sudden arrivals even bothered to say h.e.l.lo, Lieutenant Hugo Lang watched as the Time Lord and his companion scuttled about the console room, flicking switches, pressing b.u.t.tons and generally getting in each other's way.

'What are you doing?' he said at last.

The Doctor glanced at the intergalactic policeman and, for a moment, wondered who he was. Seeing Hugo's confused look, Peri piped: 'Going to Jaconda.'

'Why?'

'Do you always ask so many questions?' snapped the Doctor.

T'm a policeman. It's an occupational disease.' Then find a cure for it. We have work to do.' And with that said, the Doctor pressed the dematerialisation switch and the time rotor juddered into motion.

8.

JACONDA THE BEAUTIFUL!.

Azmael sat on the bridge of his freighter and furtively brushed a tear from his eye. Displayed on the monitor before him was a computer a.n.a.lysis of the explosion that had occured shortly after their departure from t.i.tan Three.

Next to him stood the twins who were bristling with indignation.

They had just witnessed a heated conversation between Azmael and Noma which had made them very angry.

Although they had not met the Doctor and Peri, the news of the way their lives had been casually wasted by Noma had hurt and outraged them. Although part of their anger was motivated by the fear that they too might be disposed of in an equally offhand way, they had also felt a genuine compa.s.sion, fury and indignation that, until now, had been quite alien to their immature minds.

What, in reality, had happened was that Noma had secretly informed Mestor of the Doctor's arrival. Concerned by the intervention of a second Time Lord, Mestor had ordered Noma to destroy the Doctor, Peri and the safe house.

Also, Mestor was still concerned that once the Earth authorities had rediscovered their nerve, they would launch an attack. As already proven, Azmael had shown a rather casual att.i.tude towards covering his tracks. With the safe house destroyed, the trail to Jaconda would end on t.i.tan Three.

Although Azmael tried to explain this, the twins weren't interested and remained resolute as to who was really to blame. As leader of the group, Azmael was responsible for the activities of each member.

As Romulus and Remus continued their verbal attack, Drak came to the elderly Time Lord's rescue with an offer of more food.

Reluctantly, the twins gave into their baser need and allowed themselves to be bustled away.

Once gone, Azmael could no longer hold back the tears. Not since the death of his dear wife had he felt such grief and despair. As he sobbed, he wondered how many more good people would have to die before Jaconda would be rid of Mestor.

Although his tears were mainly for the Doctor, they also contained a few of self pity. It was becoming obvious to Azmael that he was losing his grip on the situation. Up until recently he had always been confident that ultimately he could defeat Mestor. Yet lately the creature seemed to grow stronger, more confident and inventive by the day.

The cloud Mestor had sent to destroy the starfighters was proof of that. The technology and imagination necessary for such a feat was beyond Azmael's comprehension. Even Mestor's ability to thought-read had grown more effective, making it more and more difficult for Azmael to plot and plan. It had almost reached the point where the Time Lord felt nowhere was safe from the prying awareness of his arch-enemy.

Although the twins had been harsh and brutal in their attack on Azmael, they had in one respect, been absolutely right. He was the President of Jaconda and the responsibility for the safety and well-being of his people did lie with him. If he wasn't capable of fulfilling his duties, then it was right that he should resign and leave others to try and succeed in their own way.

But who would replace him? It was a thought that had constantly crossed his mind.

When Mestor and his army of gastropods had emerged from hibernation, many socially important Jacondans had rushed to join him before an angry shot had been fired. Even those who had bravely fought soon surrendered once they realised the war could drag on for years.

Civil servant, politician, merchant and financier alike had all declared their allegiance and had openly collaborated. A few had smiled to deceive their conqueror, whilst quietly working to defeat him, but they had soon been betrayed and murdered.

It is said by cynics that the shortest list of war heroes in the whole of the universe is to be found on Jaconda. Azmael learnt, to his misery, that there was more than a grain of truth in that observation.

Of course, Jacondan historians deny this, declaring that Jaconda exists to trade peacefully. It never seemed to occur to them that only free people can trade peacefully, and however much war may be despised, it is sometimes necessary, especially when invaded by a monster determined to destroy everything the planet is supposed to hold sacred.

When the Seedle warriors had come to Vitrol Minor in search of Azmael, he had been helped beyond the call of any individual's duty. While the warriors had set about murdering the populace, he had been smuggled off the planet by brave people indifferent to their own personal safety. Azmael hadn't needed to ask for such sacrifice, as each individual had offered their help willingly, only too aware that subjection to evil creates and feeds further evil.

Perhaps it was too much to expect the Jacondans to be as brave as those on Vitrol Minor, but it saddened him that the people of his adopted planet had such little self respect and awareness of their own freedom and dignity.