by Doctor Who
88
‘It’s the Domovoi,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘She’s going to roast us alive!’
‘But I thought she wanted to keep us all here for ever?’ Martha said.
‘Why would she kill us?’
The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Maybe she just wants to incapacitate us.
Do enough damage to us softbodies to ensure that we need her to look after us. And she’ll damage us sure enough if she keeps messing around with her systems like this.’ Even the Doctor was starting to feel a bit over-warm. The others around him were really suffering by now. ‘That’s it! That’s it!’ he cried. ‘The Domovoi doesn’t just want inhabitants! She wants dependants! She wants poorly, vulnerable softbodies she can fuss over for ever more! She wants us totally at her mercy!’
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The plastic-covered floor beneath their feet was melting. As they started to feel that searing heat through the soles of their shoes, noxious fumes were lifting off the ground in smoky tendrils.
The Doctor commanded everyone to try to cover their mouths and noses and to try every door and to find some form of exit from the boiling corridor. Then he rounded on Tiermann.
‘You know where we are. You must know this place inside out. Get us out of here, Tiermann.’
Martha heard that dangerous edge in the Doctor’s voice.
She
watched Tiermann’s face twitch in response.
‘Of course,’ the old man said. ‘There will be a hatchway down to the next level. . . ’ He dropped to his knees, wincing with pain from the wound in his side. He felt along the floor with both hands, and now it was the Doctor and Martha’s turn to flinch, as they saw his gloves smoulder and burn.
‘Doctor,’ Solin shouted. ‘Father. . .
can you hurry? Mother has
passed out. . . ’
Martha rubbed perspiration out of her eyes and saw that the Doctor was grinning at her encouragingly. He looked a bit more tousled than usual, perhaps, hoiking off his necktie, but he didn’t seem to be 91
suffering as much as the rest of them. ‘What’s the Domovoi trying to do?’ she croaked at him. ‘We’ll be dead and then she’ll have no one to look after any more. . . ’
The Doctor shrugged and did his quizzical eyebrow thing. ‘One way of keeping us, if we’re dead. And she’s crazy and malfunctioning, too.
Poor old thing doesn’t know what she’s doing.’
‘Poor old thing?’ spat Tiermann. He wrenched open the hatchway he had found with sheer brute strength. It opened at his bidding with a reluctant screech.
The hot vapours writhing on the air were sucked into the cooler air below and everyone took a deep breath and a sigh of relief. ‘Quickly,’
said Tiermann, ‘before she cottons onto us.’
The motley group of captives of the Dreamhome clambered through the hole in the floor. The Doctor went first, then Tiermann, and they were ready to help the others down into the corridor – dark, identical, though not so hot – underneath. There was a sticky moment as Barbara set about wedging herself through the floor. She was extremely heavy and shaking with fear. Tiermann snapped something about her being just some useless old machine; something he had consigned to the rubbish years ago. But the Doctor shot him a nasty look. ‘We’re all in this together, Tiermann. Barbara’s survival is just as important to me as yours is.’
‘Hear, hear!’ warbled Toaster, throatily, his blue bulbs giving a valiant flash. Truth be known, the sun bed was looking much the worse for his ordeal. He seemed very rickety on his feet, and much of his glass had fallen out en route.
Now that they were all out of the choking heat, Tiermann was hastening into action. ‘The override controls are in a room on Level Minus Twenty. A tiny room. A blind spot in the Domovoi’s defences.’
‘Sssh!’ hissed the Doctor. ‘Don’t say it out loud! Just take us there!’
Tiermann nodded stiffly. ‘Emergency stairs. Unless you’d trust the lift?’
None of them wanted to trust the lift.
They followed Tiermann as he hobbled rather painfully down the winding corridors until he found the emergency exit that led to the 92
stairs.
Amanda was sounding delirious as she was helped along by her son.
‘I didn’t even know there were all of these floors. We lived in such a small part of our house. . . What was all of this for, Ernest?’
Martha said to the Doctor: ‘It’s like they were parasites, living inside the body of something alive. . . ’
The Doctor pulled a face. ‘That’s a horrible but pretty apposite image, Martha. I’m sure the old Domovoi would agree with you. . . ’
As if on cue, the Domovoi’s voice rang out in their corridor as they filed into the emergency stairwell. ‘Where are you going? What are you doing? Stay where I can see you!’
The Doctor paused thoughtfully. ‘Have you noticed how the voice is changing? Sounding more desperate. . . more insane. . . ’
‘I noticed that,’ Solin said. ‘It’s not a very reassuring thought.’
‘It’s as if she can’t cope with the idea of everyone wanting to escape. . . ’ Martha said.
‘Hmmm,’ mused the Doctor, and ushered them all into the stairwell.
‘Come on, Level Minus Twenty! Don’t let that old rascal Tiermann get too far ahead! I don’t trust him one inch!’
The Domovoi’s plaintive voice was still tolling in the corridor above them: ‘Don’t you see that I know what’s best? I always know what is best for you! Stay with me! Stay here with me! Mummy knows best. . . !’
Luckily there didn’t seem to be any loudspeakers in the stairwell.
The Doctor clanged the exit shut and blocked out the wailing tones.
Then he hastened after his friends, the melty soles of his trainers slap-ping stickily on stone.
The twists and turns of the staircase seemed to occupy them for hours.
Down and down they clattered, with the Doctor gallantly bringing up the rear. Once or twice, Martha peered into the endless pit of the stairwell and it seemed to go right into the core of Tiermann’s World. Her jumbled thoughts were wondering about the ego of Professor Tiermann, in naming this whole world after himself, and in thinking he could claim it for his own and his family. No wonder the old coot was 93
going crazy: everything was rebelling against him. Even his precious super-computer.
Martha was aware that Solin was having to just about drag his mother along with him. Amanda was looking very weak. She was used to having everything done for her, and today she had worn herself out. Martha pitched in to help. ‘It would be best to just leave me here,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ll only hold everyone else back. . . ’
At this point Barbara decided that she had heard enough. She was sick of Amanda complaining. ‘I’ll carry her,’ she said, ‘Hoist her onto my back.’ Barbara crouched and let them slide the mistress of the house onto her strong square back. ‘Are you steady, mistress?’ Barbara asked, and Amanda Tiermann nodded feebly, grasping Barbara with both hands.
‘Come on! Come on!’ urged the Doctor, catching up with them. ‘We can’t hang around here. Soon the Domovoi will work out a way of getting to us. . . ’
‘All right, all right,’ wheezed Barbara, struggling to cope with the extra weight. Perhaps, she reflected, she had been a bit foolhardy, carrying Amanda. And why was she bothering anyway? It had been Amanda, during one of her perennial clean-outs, who had consigned Barbara to the lower levels and redundancy. Barbara could still see the woman’s sniffy and imperious face, regarding the vending machine up and down. ‘Take it below! Nasty, common thing!’
So why was Barbara helping her now?
She wasn’t sure. Something about not wanting people to suffer un-necessarily. Helping where she could. It was part of her programming, instilled by Tiermann long ago. She had to help the humans whenever she could. But there was something else, too. Compassion stirring in Barbara’s rather decayed circuitry. That was something
Tiermann knew very little about, and yet it was still there in Barbara. Curious, the vending robot thought to herself. The more she liberated herself the more she was beginning to like herself.
Then: ‘SSSSTTOOOPPPP!!!’ cried the Doctor, at the top of his voice.
They all froze in their tracks and whipped round to look up at him.
‘What is it?’ Martha gasped.
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‘Listen!’
It sounded like helicopters. Like the furious chopping whirr of blades going round and round.
Something was coming up the stairwell, rising out of the pit of gloom towards them.
‘I know that noise. . . ’ Amanda said, raising her head.
‘So do I,’ Tiermann snarled. ‘I made them, too! How dare the Domovoi send them after us!’
The Doctor dashed down and grabbed Tiermann. ‘What are they?’
Tiermann didn’t get a chance to reply.
A gaggle of flying robots hovered into view. They were propelled by helicopter-type blades in their heads and their eyes flashed a malevo-lent, searching red, just as Walter the drinks robot’s had. Their mouths were the weirdest thing, however. They were much too large for their small bodies and metal faces. And they seemed to be sucking air into themselves, stirring up the air in the stairwell into a kind of mini-cyclone as they approached.
‘Sukkazz!’ Solin yelled, and the word was snatched out of his mouth.
‘What are they?’ Martha shouted.
‘Vacuum cleaners,’ the Doctor said, suddenly by her side. ‘Harmless enough. Unless you turn the power up.’ He pointed to the rotating sets of sharpened teeth inside their open mouths. ‘I think they’ve turned nasty. Run!’
The small party tried to increase their pace down the steps, but the flying Sukkazz followed them effortlessly. Progress was made even more difficult by the air, whirring and sucking all around them like a force-ten gale.
‘Doctor! Help!’ Barbara was shrieking. They turned to see Amanda Tiermann being lifted away from Barbara’s back. The robot’s telescopic arms stretched out to save her mistress, grasping her powerless limbs. It was as if Amanda was weightless, lifting off into the air and floating up to meet the attacking robots.
‘Amanda!’ Tiermann howled.
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She had passed out. She was like a limp rag, wafting in the breeze towards the deadly robots. Toaster leapt into the fray but soon became confused and exhausted.
There was nothing they could do.
Solin charged forward up the steps, but found himself ensnared by the suction force of the Sukkazz. He lifted off the steps and found that he was being borne along behind his mother.
‘Noooo!’ Tiermann shrieked. His voice reverberated up the stairwell, even louder than the whirring blades.
Up, up, and away. It seemed that the vacuum robots could only manage two prisoners at a time. But they seemed very pleased with their success. They rose aloft, hurtling up storey after storey, leaving the others far below, shouting in their wake. Both Solin and Amanda had been buffeted into unconsciousness and had ceased their struggles.
Far below, the Doctor turned to Tiermann. ‘Where will they take them?’
‘Where they empty themselves out,’ he said, in a hollow, shocked tone. ‘The Dust Chamber.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s a vast hall filled with all the dust they’ve ever sucked up.’
Tiermann nodded. ‘I was looking for a use for it. I felt sure there must be one.’
‘Just as well,’ the Doctor said. ‘Can you get them out of it?’
‘They’ll suffocate!’ Tiermann said. ‘If they get pushed into the Dust Chamber. . . ’
‘We need to get to the override room,’ the Doctor told him. ‘That’s where we need to get first. Which floor are we on now?’
Tiermann hurried to a wall panel and read the display. Minus Sixteen. ‘We’re almost there.’
‘We need to get on,’ the Doctor told him. ‘Will you be able to free your wife and Solin from there?’
‘If I can get the override working, I can do anything.’ Tiermann said.
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‘All right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Come on, everyone,’ he told Martha, Barbara and Toaster. They all set off, top speed, following Tiermann down to Level Minus Twenty. All of them were hoping and praying that no more robots of any kind would come to intercept them.
But as they went, no one noticed that Barbara’s pale blue eyes were changing colour. She blinked fiercely and resisted with every fibre of her being. But something was happening to her inside. Even she wasn’t sure what it was.
But if Martha or one of the others had turned at that moment, to look back at the vending machine, they would have seen that Barbara’s eyes were starting to burn a savage crimson. . .
Solin woke to find himself hurtling through the air. His body con-vulsed with panic. He felt the sharp, steel arms of one of the Sukkazz gripping him. As his senses stirred he could see that both he and his mother were being carried like this and suddenly he knew where they were being taken.
It was only logical.
He kicked and struggled, but to no avail. If he freed himself, he would fall all the way back down the stairwell. He’d break his neck, surely. But right now, even that seemed preferable to where he and his mother were being taken.
It was only a matter of minutes before they reached a certain level.
The Sukkazz whooshed their captives down a sheer, circular tunnel.
No human member of the Tiermann household ever came down here.
They had no need to. This was where the rubbish was sent.
A circular door slid aside with great ceremony.
The Dust Chamber lay beyond. No gravity, no light. Just a sus-pended mass of floating particles.
A whole world of filth.
Amanda was waking and she was struggling too.
‘Take a deep breath! Fill your lungs!’
It was all Solin had time to say before he and his mother were flung bodily into the twilit chamber of dust.
97
TheoverrideroomwastheroomthathousedthecontrolsthatErnest Tiermann had hoped he would never have to use.
Why would he ever need to?
The Domovoi loved him. She adored him. She was his willing slave.
And she was his perfect wife. Even Tiermann’s human wife, Amanda, knew that. And she just had to give in to the disappointment of it. The Domovoi and the Dreamhome were what Ernest loved and trusted most in the whole world. Nothing could come between them.
Except. . . now that everything had gone haywire, the world was turned upside down. And everything had changed so quickly Tiermann could hardly fathom it.
Here he was, striding into the override room, with complete strangers right on his heels, as well as robots he had long ago dis-carded. And his wife and son were lost somewhere in the Dust Chamber. Perhaps he was already too late to save them.
But there was no time to think too much about it now.
They had just one very slim chance.
‘Is this it?’
The Doctor looked and sounded very disappointed with the override room.
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Tiermann snarled: ‘Close the door behind you, robot. Quickly!’
Toaster was bringing up the rear, watchful for any more nasties sneaking up on them, now they were on Level Minus Twenty. He turned and slammed the metal door shut and then all five of their party – Tiermann, the Doctor, Martha, Barbara and Toaster – were crammed tightly into the tiny room.
‘It looks like a downstairs lav!’ the Doctor suddenly burst out laughing.
The lighting in the override room was red and Martha wondered what that reminded her of. Then it came to her: a submarine. Like in old war films, when something was going wrong. When they’d been torpedoed and water was gushing in and they were sinking slowly to the bottom of the ocean. Everyone’s faces were lit up red and black.
Not too far from the truth, she reflected. S
he had a very definite sinking feeling.
‘It has to be an inconspicuous room,’ Tiermann muttered. He was pressing a series of controls on the far wall, frowning and trying to remember the protocols. ‘Otherwise the Domovoi would have wanted to know what it was. As it is, I don’t think she ever suspected what these controls can do.’
The Doctor peered over his shoulder. ‘Do you want to stand there bragging about it, or do you want to get on with it?’ he asked, with a kind of jaunty menace. ‘I don’t have to remind you that your family’s lives depend on it.’
‘You’re right,’ Tiermann nodded. ‘This is it.’ He stabbed a few final buttons and a small, very ordinary panel slid upwards, to reveal a black switch.
‘Is that it?’ Martha said.
Tiermann nodded brusquely. ‘Push that and we put the Domovoi out of action.’
‘How long for?’ the Doctor asked. He couldn’t quite see past the square bulk of Barbara’s body. He wriggled slightly in order to see the controls, and in an attempt to get closer and maybe slam down the button himself. But, in the tiny room, he was wedged solid.
‘Not long,’ Tiermann admitted. ‘It won’t kill her. Or bring her to her 100
senses. Ten minutes? Twenty? It will disorient her. It’ll take a while for her to regain autonomy. But it should be long enough for us to get to the rooftop and the ship. I hope.’
The Doctor whistled through his teeth and quirked his eyebrows thoughtfully. ‘When you built that monstrous Domovoi, you certainly pulled out all the stops, Ernest. You can’t kill her, can you?’
‘Nothing can do that,’ Tiermann said, with a hint of pride.
‘Except the Voracious Craw,’ Martha pointed out. ‘And the Domovoi knows that. That’s why she’s gone bananas.’
‘Is that a medical diagnosis, Doctor Jones?’ said the Doctor.
Too right it is!’ Martha said. ‘Go on, Professor Tiermann. Push the button! Get us out of here!’ She, too, was in an awkward position in the room. Only Tiermann could get his hands on the vital control.
