'Well, don't just stand there looking at it, man!' Robson was literally pushing the other engineers out of his way. 'Do a complete check!'
'Excuse me. D'you mind if I make a suggestion?'
Robson turned around with a glare to see the Doctor calling from the back of the group.
'When I was in your pipeline room just a short while ago, I distinctly heard some kind of movement coming from inside the pipeline tube. It was identical to the movement I heard coming from inside the pipeline on the beach,' said the Doctor in a stern voice. 'A thumping, pulsating type of sound.'
Van Lutyens immediately became very animated. 'That is what they heard out on the rigs!'
'Nonsense!' snarled Robson, aware that alarm was being generated amongst his crew. 'What they heard and what everyone's heard is a mechanical fault somewhere along the line!'
'But why did they hear it way out on the rigs?' insisted the Doctor.
'Because, my friend, beneath this impeller shaft is a vast steel gasometer buried in the earth. It's like an echo chamber. Drop even a pin down there and it'll sound like a thunder-clap! Any sound down there travels along the pipeline.'
Robson's theory seemed logical, but unconvincing.
'But this sound wasn't mechanical,' retorted van Lutyens.
There was no doubt that Robson was now on the defensive. 'All right!' he thundered. 'Suppose it wasn't mechanical. Suppose there is something in the pipeline, a fish or something. What d'you expect me to do about it?'
The Doctor was first to reply. 'Turn off the gas flow until you've had a chance to check.'
'Out of the question!'
'But Mr Robson,' pleaded van Lutyens, 'if something is inside the - '
Robson was adamant. 'We do not turn off the flow. And that's final!'
'Down another half, sir!' The Chief Engineer was tapping the pressure meter again.
Robson pushed him aside to look at the meter himself. 'It must be a mechanical fault!' he snapped. 'Get a couple of men in here, and double-check!'
'Yes, sir!' The Chief Engineer rushed out.
Van Lutyens wiped the sweat from his forehead, and took an anxious look at the pressure meter. The indicator needle was flickering perilously close to the red danger level.
'If you allow the pressure to build up much more in that pipeline!' said the Dutchman, turning to Robson, 'you'll blow the Control Rig sky-high!'
'And all of us with it,' warned the Doctor.
Van Lutyens stared defiantly straight into Robson's eyes. 'Just because you're too stubborn to turn off the gas!'
There was a delayed reaction from Robson, which seemed like hours to the crew who were watching tensely.
'So what d'you think it is then?' There was a restrained but acid calm in Robson's eventual reply. 'Some more of these creature things that hysterical girl is supposed to have seen?'
'Who knows?' answered the Doctor. His face revealed just the hint of a wry smile.
In the Control Hall, Price was showing Jamie and Victoria the lay-out of the communications system.
'You mean, this place supplies gas to the whole of the south of England?' asked Jamie, casting his eyes over the maze of computer monitors on the huge Cone structure.
'Not only England,' replied Price. 'Wales too.'
Victoria's face was illuminated by a succession of different coloured lights, flashing on and off all over the Cone. 'What are all these lights for?' she asked, looking totally bewildered.
Price nodded towards a computerised board. 'That's a plan of the entire Refinery Compound. Each light represents a remote-controlled camera that I can switch through to my own personal monitor if I want to check with a particular area.'
Jamie scratched his head, trying hard to take in all the technical information. 'What about these rigs they keep talking about?'
'The rigs are out at sea,' said Price. He was now looking up at the huge illuminated panel on top of the Cone. 'That panel up there shows the relative position of all of them.'
'What's the big one... there in the middle?' asked Victoria. She was referring to a large red-coloured oblong shape in the centre of the panel.
'That's our main Control Complex Rig, the nerve centre of the entire group. The other rigs feed her with the gas, and she pumps it through to us via the main pipeline.'
'How horrible to have to live out there in the sea all that time,' said Victoria, bringing the conversation down to a more human level. 'And lonely.'
'Oh, I don't know,' said Price. 'Mr Robson spent nearly four years on one of the early rigs. He never came ashore once.'
'Aye,' said Jamie acidly. 'That accounts for quite a lot.'
Jamie had no sooner spoken when Robson himself came out of the Impeller Area. Van Lutyens and the Doctor were with him.
'Doctor! I need your help!'
The Doctor turned, to see Harris hurrying across the Hall from the compound entrance.
'It's my wife. She's very ill.'
'I'm sorry, Mr Harris,' said the Doctor awkwardly. 'You see I'm not really a - '
'Our own doctor is still out at Rig D. There's no one else I can turn to.' There was desperation in Harris's voice. 'You must come. Right away!'
'He's going nowhere!' interrupted Robson, firmly.
'But this is an emergency,' insisted Harris.
'These people are in my custody until I decide what to do with them.'
'But my wife... ' Harris was almost pleading.
Robson thumped his fist on the side of the Cone. 'Damn you, Harris! I won't have you bringing your domestic problems into this refinery.' Then he turned and shouted at the rest of his crew working in the Hall. 'And that goes for the lot of you!'
Harris was appalled. This time Robson had gone too far. 'Mr Robson,' he said through clenched teeth, 'my wife is ill. If anything happens to her, I'll... '
Robson was completely taken aback by his second-incommand's defiance. But he had been long enough in the business to know that if he lost the respect of his crew, there was nothing left. 'All right, Mr Harris,' he replied, without blinking his eyes. 'One hour!'
'Mrs Harris?'
'Yes?'
'We're maintenance controllers, madam. I wonder if we could have a few words with your husband?'
Maggie had answered her front door to two men. One of them was small and fat. The other was tall and thin. Both of them were dressed in white cap, tunic, and trousers. They looked like medical orderlies.
Maggie rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. She was absolutely drained of all energy. 'My husband isn't here,' she said. 'He's at the Compound.'
It was Mr Oak who replied. He was the small, fat one, with a cherubic, almost circular face, which seemed to be fixed in a perpetual smile. 'Oh dear,' he said, 'that does make it rather difficult. We have to carry out an inspection.'
'Inspection?'
'Your gas cooker, madam. In the kitchen.'
Maggie looked blank.
Mr Oak exchanged a puzzled look with his colleague. Then he turned back to Maggie and said, 'Your husband didn't tell you?'
'No, he didn't,' sighed Maggie wearily. 'Look, I'm not feeling very well. Can't it wait until another day?'
Mr Oak shook his head, but retained his smile. 'Oh, I'm afraid not, madam. It's got to be done without delay. Chief Robson's instructions.'
Maggie groaned. 'Chief Robson! That man never stops giving out instructions. Well, I suppose you'd better come in.' She opened the door wide, and stood back.
'Thank you, madam,' said Mr Oak, bowing politely. 'After you, Mr Quill.'
The tall, thin man entered the hallway first. He was carrying a small black leather bag. Mr Oak followed him in.
'Allow me to introduce ourselves, madam,' said small and fat. 'My name's Mr Oak. And this is my colleague, Mr Quill.'
Mr Quill didn't speak. In fact he never spoke. He slightly raised his cap, and bowed politely.
Maggie closed the front door and said impatiently, 'Could you please be quick? I really am not very w
ell.' She pointed to a door on the other side of the hallway. 'That's the kitchen.'
'Thank you madam,' said Mr Oak. 'And don't you worry about us. You won't even know we're here. Will she, Mr Quill?'
Maggie disappeared quickly back into her bedroom. Only then did Mr Oak's smile finally fade. He nodded to tall and thin, and they both went into the kitchen.
Mr Quill went straight to the back patio door of the kitchen, and for a moment just stared at it. His pale, gaunt, funereal features were quite impassive.
'The bag, Mr Quill,' said short and fat. He was already inspecting the cooker they were supposed to be servicing.
Mr Quill took the small black leather bag to the cooker, placed it on a working top alongside, and opened it.
Mr Oak reached into the bag, and took out two pairs of plain white gloves...
'Mr Robson, sir!' Price was calling from the Control Cone. 'Message from Control Rig!'
Robson was on the observation platform, checking temperature gauges. 'What do they want?' he yelled.
'There's an excessive pressure build-up in their pipeline feed to us!'
Robson hurried across to the Cone, snatched the telekation print-out message from Price. 'Ask them how much,' he ordered.
'Mr Robson!' Van Lutyens was rushing across from the Impeller Area. 'Pressure's almost up to danger level. Shall I give the order to turn off the flow?'
'You'll do nothing of the sort, Mr van Lutyens.'
'But the pressure is almost up to capacity,' warned van Lutyens, again mopping beads of sweat from his forehead. 'There will be an explosion at any minute!'
Robson flicked his eyes up from the message he was reading. 'There will not be an explosion,' he said, confidently.
The Dutchman stared at Robson in total disbelief, and said, 'If you don't turn off the flow, there's no way you can avoid it!'
Robson lost his patience, turned his back on the Dutchman and yelled out to an engineer on the observation platform. 'Open Beach Release Valve, Section D. Full capacity!'
The engineer paused, unsure whether he had heard right. Robson yelled again. 'Did you hear what I said?'
This time the engineer obeyed immediately, and started turning a valve wheel to release gas pressure in the specified section.
'What are you doing?' shouted van Lutyens. He was now convinced that Robson had completely misread the situation. 'You will never release enough gas in time!'
Robson's only reply was to turn with a sneering look at the Dutchman and say, 'D'you want to bet - Mr van Lutyens?'
The curtains were drawn in the Harrises' bedroom. Maggie was feeling much worse. Even though there was only a dim half-light in the room, she was lying flat on her back on the bed, covering her face with her hands, shielding her eyes from the light.
The silence was eventually broken by a gentle tapping sound, coming from the kitchen. The two maintenance controllers were clearly in the middle of their work on the gas cooker.
Maggie took her hands away from her face, and squinted. She again had a pounding headache. After lying there for a few minutes, she managed to summon up enough energy to pull herself up from the bed and cross the room. She sat down at the dressing table, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The shock was immediate. Not only was she looking very tired and drawn, but, in her mind's eye, she was beginning to age prematurely.
In the kitchen, Mr Oak and Mr Quill were carrying out their mock inspection of the gas cooker. Not a word passed between them.
Almost by word of command, the two men suddenly stopped work. They could hear the approach of the thumping, heartbeat sound. Both men looked at each other. Mr Oak smiled. It was time for the real work to begin.
Mr Oak stretched out his hand to the cooker, and turned on each one of the taps. As he did so, he noticed the strands of seaweed that were beginning to form on his hand and arm. Both he and Mr Quill reacted to this with a triumphant glow in their eyes. Again, Mr Oak smiled. Then he picked up a pair of white gloves, similar to those which Mr Quill was already wearing, and put them on. Then both men turned to look at the back patio door.
The thumping, heartbeat sound was becoming louder, and more intense.
Mr Quill went to the back door, and opened it. The noise was immediately deafening. Thumping. Pulsating. Shrieking. Hissing. On the kitchen patio outside, the clump of seaweed had expanded into a solid mass, engulfed in a sea of bubbling white foam.
Mr Oak and Mr Quill left the room, and went out into the hallway. As they did so, bubbling white foam began seeping over the kitchen step through the open door.
Maggie was still sitting at her dressing table, resting her head wearily between her hands. On a sudden impulse, she determined to pull herself together. Grabbing her comb, she started tidying her hair. But as she looked up into the mirror, she gasped with a shocked start. The silhouettes of two-figures were reflected there, standing behind her. Maggie swung round.
'What are you doing in here!' she yelled.
Mr Oak and Mr Quill did not reply. They remained absolutely still, just staring at Maggie.
Maggie looked terrified. She slowly rose, her back pressed against the mirror. 'You have no right to come into my room... ' Her hands were gripping hard the edge of the dresssing table.
Mr Oak and Mr Quill did not reply.
'Did you hear what I - '
Maggie did not finish her sentence. Her eyes suddenly flicked straight past the two intruders, to the open doorway. A wall of bubbling white foam and seaweed was pushing its way into the room. Maggie was too chilled with fear to speak. All she could do was to look on helplessly as the advance guard of the foam and weed began to snake its way across the room in her direction.
Mr Oak and Mr Quill took a few steps towards Maggie, then stopped within just a few feet of her. Both their faces were fixed with almost identical grins.
Maggie tried to scream. But she was stopped abruptly, as Mr Oak and Mr Quill simultaneously took a deep breath, and opened their mouths as wide as they could. Then, in unison, they exhaled straight at Maggie. The sound they made was eerie and terrifying. It was the sound of hissing gas.
Maggie was immediately overcome by the fumes. She tried desperately to scream, but couldn't.
The bubbling white foam and weed was drawing closer and closer...
Maggie was clutching her throat, coughing, spluttering. Shc couldn't breathe.
Mr Oak and Mr Quill were immovable, like marble statues. The hissing sounds of gas fumes was still pouring out from their wide-open mouths.
Maggie was losing control, and could hold on no longer. As she slumped to the floor, she grabbed at the dressing table, scattering the contents all around her.
As the wall of foam and seaweed drew closer and closer to Maggie's lifeless body, the sound of hissing gas continued unabated from the wide-open mouths of Mr Oak and Mr Quill...
Somewhere along a lonely stretch of beach, the hissing sound of gas continued. This time however, it was being released from the valve on top of the giant pipeline tube.
The hissing sound suddenly stopped. The valve was closed.
5
Waiting in the Dark
'It's down!' The Chief Engineer raised his fist triumphantly, after checking the pressure gauge on the wall of the Impeller Area. The needle was wavering to and fro frantically. 'The pressure in the pipeline - it's back to normal!'
A great cheer went up from the group of engineers who were watching anxiously.
'Congratulations, Mr Robson,' said van Lutyens with relief. 'I would not have thought you could have done it.'
Robson was glowing with self-confidence after the success of his decision to open the valve and release gas from the beach section of the pipeline. 'If you have too much gas in the tube, get rid of it!' he scowled bombastically. 'Didn't they ever teach you that in Training School back at the Hague, Mr van Lutyens?'
The Dutchman refused to answer. He had become immune to Robson's petty insults. Robson grinned, then turned to one of the engine
ers. 'Inform Baxter at Control Rig that the immediate crisis is over. And contact the other rig chiefs.'
The engineer rushed off to pass on the messages. Robson and van Lutyens followed him out to the Control Hall, stopping at the observation platform to check various pressure gauges.
'What about the feed-out to the receiving stations?' asked the Dutchman. 'It's still dropping.' Robson ignored him and started tapping one of the gauges. The Dutchman persisted. 'The impeller is still slowing down...'
Robson suddenly lost his cool again. 'What's the matter with you, van Lutyens?' he growled. 'You've been trying to teach me my job ever since you came here. I've been drilling for gas out there in the North Sea most of my life. I don't need people like you, or Harris, to teach me how to do it!'
'Mr Robson!' Price was calling urgently from the Control Cone. There was a touch of hysteria in Price's voice. 'It's Rig C, sir. We can't raise them!'
Robson hurried across to the Cone, followed by van Lutyens.
'What d'you mean you can't raise them?' snapped Robson, as he looked at the video monitor screen used for contact with Rig C. It was streaked with distorted, quivering lines.
'We've tried everything, sir. There's no response at all!'
Robson ignored Price and started punching out video and computer keys. The monitor screen remained defiantly blank.
'So the immediate crisis is over, is it?' said the Dutchman to Robson ironically. He was also watching the blank monitor screen.
Frank Harris arrived home to find the front door of his apartment block wide open. 'Maggie!' he called out anxiously. 'I've brought the Doctor!'
The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria followed Harris into the hallway. The moment they entered, Jamie became convulsed with a loud fit of sneezing.
'Gas!' yelled the Doctor. He and the others quickly covered their mouths.
Harris rushed into the bedroom and immediately shouted back to the Doctor to follow him. The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria charged into the bedroom, and were nearly choked by the smell of gas fumes.
DOCTOR WHO - FURY FROM THE DEEP Page 5
