'She'd better be,' said the Doctor grimly, and disappeared from the room.
Solon watched him go, a faint smile on his face. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He'd handled the situation very well. Just enough attempts at dissuasion to be convincing, but not enough to stop the Doctor from going. Oh, he'd been suspicious, of course. But then, what alternative did he have? He had to go back to the Temple. Congratulating himself on his own brilliance, Solon crossed to a cluttered bench, found pen and paper and began to write.
In the hall, the Doctor was saying a hasty farewell to Sarah. 'I've got to leave you here for a bit, but with any luck it won't be long. Solon's pretty confident of a complete cure but there's a missing ingredient I've got to get for him. I've put the fear of the Time Lords into him, so don't worry.' Snatching up his now dried hat and scarf, the Doctor was gone before Sarah could protest.
Condo came back with a loaded tray. He led Sarah to a table, sat her down before it. He guided her hands to the table. 'Here. Biscuit. Cheese. Milk. Girl eat.'
The biscuit was dry, the cheese rank, and the milk decidedly peculiar. But at least it was a breakfast of a kind, and Sarah did her best to eat something. Condo stood watching her, his fierce face a little less harsh than usual. A voice rang down the stairway. 'Condo!'
Condo grunted. 'Master call. Condo go to him.'
Sarah heard him going up the stairs. Realising she was alone in the hall, she had a moment of panic. Even Condo was better than no one. Then willing herself to stay calm, she went on with her meal.
As Condo entered the laboratory, Solon was folding and sealing his letter. 'Condo, I want you to take this to the Sisters, do you understand?'
Condo shook his head. 'No! Condo not go to Sisters. They kill him.'
'Don't worry, you'll be in no danger. Just give them the letter, that's all.'
'What about arm? Solon promise to give back good arm and hand.'
'I'm working on it now, Condo. But unless I help the Doctor, he'll destroy me. Then you'll never get your arm back. Please, Condo, this one last favour. Then you'll have your arm back, I swear it!'
Condo took the letter.
'Now hurry,' said Solon eagerly. 'Whatever happens you must get to the Sisters before the Doctor. Take the short cut through the gorge. Oh, and leave by the back way, Condo, the girl mustn't know you've gone!'
Condo nodded, took the letter and left the laboratory.
Faintly in the distance. Sarah heard a deep groaning voice. 'Solon... Solon... Where are you?'
There was such pain and anguish in the voice that Sarah felt she had to respond. Uncertainly she stood up, and took a few paces towards the sound. 'Hello!' she called. 'Who is it? Who's there?'
The low moan floated towards her. 'Solon, is that you? Come to me, Solon.'
It was obvious that whoever was calling out was in great pain and distress. There was a compelling, hypnotic note in the voice, and despite her blindness Sarah felt she had to try and help. She tried to summon up a picture of the hall in her mind. There was the main door, the fireplace, the table where she'd been eating. At the back of the hall there had been stairs, leading both up and down. It was from that direction that the sound seemed to be coming.
Arms outstretched like a sleepwalker, Sarah moved slowly towards the stairs. There were odd tables and chairs scattered about, and several times she stumbled against them. But at last her outstretched fingertips touched a large rounded pillar—the central column of the great stone staircase. All this time the voice had continued. 'Solon... where are you, Solon?' It was much nearer now, and there was no doubt as to the direction. It was coming from below.
Cautiously, step by step, Sarah began descending the staircase, holding on to the central pillar for support. With every step the summoning voice became louder and clearer.
The steps ended and she was standing on level flagstones again. There was a rough stone wall beside her, and she felt her way along it until she came to a space—an open door.
The voice was very loud now. It held anger as well as pain, and it was coming from inside the door. 'Solon? Have you come at last?'
Sarah groped her way inside the room. 'Who is it? What's the matter?'
There was an astonished silence. Slowly the voice said, 'Who are you?'
'Just a visitor. I wondered if I could help. Is something wrong? Are you ill? I'm afraid I can't do much, I can't see. But I'll wait with you until Solon comes...'
The response was a howl of anger. 'Where have you come from? Are you one of the Sisterhood? Did that hag Maren send you to destroy me?'
Sarah shrank back terrified. The voice seemed quite mad, beyond the reach of reason. Weakly she said, 'No, of course not. I came to help.'
'You lie!' screamed the voice. 'You came to kill me. You she-devils want to destroy me before I can wreak my vengeance on you!'
Sarah peered blindly towards the voice, wondering if she was trapped with a madman. And so indeed she was, in a way... though with one that had, for the moment, no power to harm her.
Sarah wished desperately that she could see. But perhaps at this moment, her blindness was something of a blessing. The anguished threatening voice that so terrified her came from a greenly-glowing tank in the centre of the room. The tank was filled with nutrient fluids. In its centre floated a spongy grey and purple mass... the still-living brain of Morbius.
7
Solon's Trap
Although Sarah, of course, couldn't see them, delicate electronic connections ran from the brain to instruments in the side of the tank. Solon's scientific genius had preserved Morbius in a kind of ghastly pseudo-life. Nutrients in the tank kept the brain alive. Complex electronic circuitry enabled the brain to hear and converted its electric impulses into speech. But the brain could not see, and it could not feel. The whole of physical life, touch, taste, sight, smell, awareness of light, heat, cold... all these were gone.
On the Earth in Sarah's time, scientists had conducted experiments into something called 'sensory deprivation'. Subjects had floated in a tank of warm fluid, wearing suits and helmets that cut off all sensation. They could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. Deprived of 'input' of all the millions of signals we constantly receive from the world about us, the subjects had begun to have hallucinations, to lose all sense of time and place, and eventually to go mad.
Something like this was happening to Morbius. Thanks to Solon's electronic devices he was able to hear and speak. But the loss of all other sensory functions, of all his physical being, was beginning to upset the balance of his mind. The waiting time in this limbo of non-existence had gone on too long, and Morbius was now perilously close to madness.
This very thought was occupying Solon's mind, as he hurried down, the stairs towards the crypt. Even if he did eventually succeed in providing the brain of Morbius with a physical body—would the creature that resulted be the once great leader he had revered? Or would he have created an insane monster?
His thoughts were interrupted by voices from in-side the door of the crypt. 'Honestly,' Sarah was saying. 'I really don't know what you're talking about...'
Solon flung open the door in a rage. 'You! What are you doing down here, girl?'
By now Sarah was so frightened that she was almost glad of Solon's arrival. 'I heard this voice,' she stammered. 'I only came down to see if I could help.'
'Nobody is allowed down here. Nobody!' shrieked Solon. 'You could have done untold damage to my most delicate equipment. Now, get out...'
He grabbed Sarah and dragged her to the door. The voice from the tank boomed, 'Solon!' Solon gave Sarah a final shove that sent her staggering into the corridor. IIe turned to face his master, moving nearer to the tank.
Sarah heard the voice say, 'Solon, you have lied to me l '
Then Solon's quick denial. 'Lied? I have never lied to you, my lord Morbius.'
Sarah gasped. 'Morbius!' Somehow he was alive, and in that room. She crept nearer to the door.
Morbius s
aid angrily, 'You told me we were alone here.'
'The Doctor and the girl returned but a short time ago. If you could see the Doctor's head, Morbius! It is perfect for our purpose. As soon as I have it, I shall begin the final operation.'
'If the head is suitable, Solon, why have you not already taken it?'
'This Doctor is cunning. Already he suspects me. He knows of my past history, Morbius—and of yours!'
'You have your servant, do you not? This Condo? Did you not tell me his strength was that of a giant?'
Solon was horrified. 'I dare not use brute force, my lord. If there were to be a struggle, the head might suffer some injury. It must be in perfect condition, to house such a brain as yours.'
'Do you think I care for that? Just to walk again, to feel, to see...'
'Naturally that is how you think now, my lord...' said Solon nervously. 'But when you are a physical entity once again, imagine how you will see yourself, how important your new form will be to you.'
Morbius groaned. 'Solon, I think of nothing else. Trapped like this, like a sponge decaying in some murky sea... no, even a sponge. has more life than I do.' There was both agony and self pity in the deep voice. 'I, Morbius, who once dominated the High Council of the Time Lords, reduced to a condition where I envy a vegetable.'
'I beg you, Morbius, endure for only a little longer. I have sent the Doctor into a trap...'
Outside in the corridor, Sarah tensed. She heard Solon go on, 'He has returned to visit the shrine of the Sisterhood—but they are warned and waiting. Before the day is over he will be dead. In return for delivering him into their hands, I have asked only that the Sisters give me his head...'
Sarah had been listening with increasing anger to this grisly conversation. Solon's gloating claim to have betrayed the Doctor was too much to be borne. With a sudden burst of energy she slammed the iron door. Her groping fingers found the keyhole with its huge iron key, and she locked the door.
Solon spun round as the door slammed shut and the key turned. Furiously he hurled himself upon it, pounding with his fists. 'Open it! Open this door, d'you hear me? You'll die for this!'
Morbius, helplessly suspended in his tank, called out, 'What has happened, Solon?'
Angrily Solon turned. 'The girl has locked me in here. A senseless gesture!'
The same thought was in Sarah's mind as she felt her way back up the staircase. Behind her she could hear Solon's muffled voice. 'When Condo returns, you shall die! You're wasting your time with this stupidity!'
He was probably quite right, thought Sarah gloomily. After all, what could she do, blind and helpless? But to look at it another way, it was pretty clear what she couldn't do. She couldn't stay in the castle, waiting meekly to be found and killed. And she couldn't let the Doctor walk into a trap without making some attempt, however futile, to find him and warn him of his danger.
Sarah felt her way carefully across the hall and towards the front door. She did much better on this second journey, and encouraged by her success she managed to find the door and open it.
She stood on the threshold for a moment, welcoming the cool air on her face, trying to gather her courage. She had never felt so helpless and so alone. Her only hope was that the Doctor would somehow escape Solon's trap, and find her on his return to the castle. It was a slender hope, but Sarah clung to it, since it was all she had. She tried to summon up a picture of the approach to the castle, the path, the drawbridge and the rocky plains. Cautiously she started to move forwards.
In the Temple, the Ceremony of the Flame was reaching its end. This was the most sacred of all the rites of the Sisterhood. The Elixir of Life, drawn from the living flame, was ceremonially administered to the Sisters one by one. Its mystic powers arrested the ageing process, preserving them at the age at which they had joined the order. In its full form the ceremony was an impressive sight, with the entire Temple filled with row upon row of chanting black-robed sisters. But this particular ceremony was sadly reduced in size. Only a handful of Sisters passed before Maren, kneeling in turn to sip the Elixir from the silver chalice. The great bronzed screens were drawn back, and the sacred Flame leaped high, burning with a brilliance that only Maren and Ohica knew to be false.
Maren chanted. 'From the Sacred Flame you have been granted the precious gift of life eternal. Cherish and serve the Flame forever, my Sisters!
The last of the Sisters sipped the precious Elixir, bowed low, and left the Temple. Only Maren and Ohica were left before the Flame, which was beginning to burn low. Maren gestured towards it. 'Now our Sisterhood is doomed, Ohica. That was the last of the Ceremonies of the Flame. You and those others who attended it will survive longest—at last you too shall perish, as I will.'
'You mean... there is no more Elixir?'
'That was the last... and the Flame is too low now to give us more.'
Ohica stared into the dying Flame. It was a symbol of her life, of all their lives. When it died, she and her Sisters would die also. For the Elixir of the Flame had to be regularly consumed to have its effect. Once begun, the treatment had to be continued. If not, the ageing process, so long held back, occurred with horrifying rapidity. The worst punishment for offending Sisters was that the Elixir should be withheld. Ohica remembered one such offender, long years ago, banished from the order for betraying its secrets to the followers of Morbius. After her expulsion she had forced her way into the ceremony, begging to be taken back, to receive the life-giving Elixir once more. Maren had refused—and before their eyes the offending Sister had withered into an ancient crone, collapsing in a heap of dusty bones. And now the same fate awaited them all.
'But, High One, you yourself should have been among those who drank of the Elixir. It is your right.'
Maren shook her head. 'There was only enough Elixir for a handful of our Sisters. Besides, what use to postpone my fate?'
Ohica looked sadly at her High Priestess. Maren was already old. The weight of all her years would fall on her with horrifying suddenness. Sadly Ohica whispered, 'You know what will happen, Maren? To you, and to us all?'
Maren bowed her head. 'It is ordained. It is useless to defy one's fate.'
A Sister entered, carrying a letter. 'A message, High One, brought by Solon's servant.'
Maren frowned and took the letter. 'What did he say?'
'Nothing, High One. He thrust the note upon a Sister at the cave mouth and then fled.'
Maren smiled grimly, unfolded the note and read it. She passed it to Ohica. 'It seems the Doctor is returning to us.'
'Already? Why, High One?'
'Read for yourself. Solon claims to have tricked him, to have delivered him into our hands.'
Ohica studied the letter. 'And in return he asks that we slay the Doctor, preserve the head undamaged and return it to him. Insolent fool, does he seek to bargain with us?'
'The Doctor too is insolent, Ohica. Yet he is no fool. Has he no fear of our Sisterhood? Does he think that death—his death—is a trivial thing, a subject for jest. You remember how even bound to the sacrificial stake he mocked us!'
Ohica remembered very clearly. There had been something about the Doctor's gaiety and vigour that had impressed her deeply. She remembered his laughter. It had been a long time since anyone had laughed in the musty caverns where the Sisterhood made their home. She handed Solon's letter back to Maren. 'What shall we do?'
Maren crumpled the parchment. 'We shall show the Doctor that the Sisterhood still has the strength to destroy intruders. Alert the guards, Ohica. This time the Doctor shall not escape alive!'
Ohica hesitated. It seemed almost as if she was about to speak, perhaps even to object—though to disobey an order of the High One was unthinkable.
Maren snapped, 'Go, Ohica!'
Ohica left the Sanctum.
Sarah stumbled over an unseen rock, her foot twisted, and she fell heavily. She lay still for a moment, almost worn out. It wasn't her first fall on this nightmare journey, and she knew it wouldn't be h
er last. Considering that she was attempting to cross a stretch of mountainous, largely unknown country in the equivalent of pitch darkness, she was lucky not to have fallen over some precipice by now.
She picked herself up and stumbled on, hands stretched out before her. Before long she touched a rough stone surface—she guessed it was the side of one of the huge boulders that littered the plain.
She was just beginning to work her way round it, when she heard heavy footsteps pounding towards her. Instinctively Sarah dropped to the ground, huddling under the boulder for shelter.
She heard the footsteps come closer, and soon she could hear the deep sobbing breath of the unseen runner. Sarah lay as still as a rabbit trying to escape a fox. She knew the footsteps weren't those of the Doctor. She thought that the terrified runner sounded like Condo, and she had no wish to run into him again.
Sarah heard the footsteps come loser, closer—then blunder on past and disappear into the distance. She waited a little longer, then, struggling to her feet, she resumed her seemingly endless, hopeless journey.
At about this time the Doctor was nearing the cave that led into the Sisterhood's Temple. He found himself a position on a rock ledge overlooking the cave and waited for some time. He hoped to find some wandering Sister who could take a message in to Maren, asking for a meeting. But the area seemed deserted—the Sisterhood had gone to ground. The Doctor considered looking for an alternative entrance. But it occurred to him that the more secretive his approach the more easily would the suspicions of the Sisters be aroused. 'March up to the front door and ring the bell, that's the thing,' he told himself. Getting to his feet, the Doctor climbed boldly down the rocks and approached the entrance to the cave.
The cave mouth, and the tunnel beyond it, loomed darkly before him. In the distance the Doctor could see the flickering of a wall torch. 'Well, they must be about somewhere,' he thought. 'Unless they've gone out and left the lights on.' He went into the cave and made his way down the tunnel.
DOCTOR WHO AND THE BRAIN OF MORBIUS Page 6
