by John Peel
‘What’s that, Scott?’
‘The police box has gone again.’
‘Yes, so it has,’ Trevor agreed. ‘Well, that wasn’t too much of a delay, was it?’
‘About two and a half minutes, I made it, Trevor.’
‘Yes, well, there’s the situation. England now needs seventy-eight runs in forty-two and a half minutes to win. They really have to go some now, don’t they, Scott?’
‘Yes, Trevor, they do. I think we may yet see some action here at the Oval today.’
The Doctor hunched over the controls, checking that the TARDIS computers had had the time to reset themselves properly in their brief pause. He hated taking off so soon again, but had really been faced with little choice in the matter. ‘Definitely some sporting ocassion,’ he commented. He couldn’t chance facing the Daleks in such a crowded place. The Daleks would create utter havoc and slaughter there.
Sara considered the scene that they had witnessed on the scanner – people dressed in white, standing around doing nothing. ‘I hardly think to, Doctor,’ she disagreed.
‘Was it Earth, do you think?’ Steven asked.
‘Possibly, yes, possibly.’ While he was trying to take a pair of companions back to their home on Earth in the 1960s, the Doctor had managed to get the TARDIS in some kind of pattern that tended now to make the Earth in that period one of the more frequent landing spots. He wished he could figure out how he had managed that – and undo the damage. It was getting terribly dull to be constantly turning up at the same time and place – give or take a few years and a few thousand miles – all the time.
Sara looked grimly at the time-path indicator, which was still bleeping away. ‘Well,’ she observed practically, ‘wherever we were, whoever is following us wasn’t thrown off by that landing.’
‘Not only that,’ the Doctor added. ‘They are closing in on us fast!’
The activity in the laboratory on Kembel halted as a slight, whispering noise began to grow. In the centre of the room, the air puckered, and suddenly a featureless silver-grey cube materialized. After a second, a door opened, and a Dalek – painted a distinctive red – emerged. It glanced around, and then glided across to where the Black Dalek and Mavic Chen stood.
‘By order of the Dalek Prime; the Red Dalek announced, ‘the time machine is at your disposal.’
‘Understood. Preparations for the journey will be made at once.’ The Black Dalek’s eye-stick swivelled to face its second in command. ‘Organize a task force for the pursuit of the Doctor and his companions.’
‘I obey.’ The Dalek moved off to the communications area, to gather in a security team for the assignment.
The Black Dalek spun to face the first scientist. ‘Operate the tracking instruments within the time-machine. Discover the space and time-path being taken by the enemy time-travellers.’ The first scientist acknowledged, and then entered the time-machine. Finally, the Black Dalek turned to Chen. ‘Mavic Chen, you will accompany the task-force. You will ensure that the Taranium core is returned to Kembel.’
‘Of course,’ Chen replied, smoothly. ‘I shall do everything in my power...’
‘If you fail,’ the Black Dalek interrupted him, ‘or if we find that you have deceived us – you will be eliminated.’
Chen inclined his head slightly. ‘Understood.’
The first scientist moved into sight at the entrance to the time-machine. ‘The enemy time-travellers are approaching the planet Tigus.’
The Black Dalek turned to the Red Dalek. ‘As soon as the task-force is assembled, you will leave. The Taranium core is to be recovered and the time-travellers are to be eliminated. If Mavic Chen shows any signs of treachery or weakness – exterminate him also.’
Chen turned his cold eyes onto the time-machine. It was his last chance to gain control of the Time Destructor. They had to find the Doctor again – and wrest the core from him. He had to have the power that it represented – he had to!
*
The TARDIS had landed again, and the view on the scanner was both appealing and appalling. Appealing, because there were no people about to be harmed if the Daleks should arrive. Appalling, because the planet lacked any signs of life – and exhibited many signs of potential death.
The sky was blood-red, a uniform, dull colour. No clouds were visible, and the redness hung over the planet, transforming it into a picture of the realms of Hell. The surface was warped and rocky, with steaming fissures. In the distance, clouds of smoke and steam gave mute evidence of immense volcanic activities. All about the TARDIS were lava beds. They looked as though they were relatively fresh. Dull flashes of light broke through the sky from time to time.
‘Where are we, Doctor?’ Sara whispered, intimidated by the grim nature of this world. ‘Do you know?’
The Doctor simply shook his head. It could be anywhere. There was nothing to distinguish this place from a billion other raw worlds, heaving through the strains of volcanism.
‘It doesn’t look very pleasant,’ Steven commented.
‘We’ll take off again as soon as the TARDIS computers have realigned themselves,’ the Doctor decided. This world was a dangerous place to wait – anything could happen in a half-hour here, from an earthquake to the continent sinking into some primeval sea.
At that second, the insistent bleeping of the time-path indicator stopped. They all turned to look at it. Finally, Steven asked: ‘Have we lost them?’
‘Lost?’ the Doctor repeated, then shook his head. ‘No – whoever was following as has landed, landed out there somewhere.’
Their eyes turned to look at the picture of burning desolation on the scanner.
On the surface of Tigus, rocks tended to be a temporary phenomenon. They might melt in the incredible heat of a volcano, or he carried along in the next lava river. They could vanish into chasms created by earthquakes. They did not, however, normally materialize from nowhere, as a largish rock had apparently just done. After a moment, two doors in the ‘rock’ swung open, and a figure emerged.
He was whistling rather tunelessly, and was dressed in the robes of a mendicant monk, untidily held in place by a faded rope, knotted together at the waist. In his hands he held a pair of binoculars, which he used to scan the horizon. To his immense satisfaction, he caught sight of the TARDIS almost immediately. His rotund face was split by a big grin that soon developed into an almost insane chuckle.
Revenge, at last!
A short while later, after a brief but strenuous argument, the Doctor led his two companions gingerly over the unsafe surface of the planet, glancing around all the time as he did so.
Steven, as ever, was grumbling. ‘You know, Doctor, it would help if we knew what we were looking for.’
‘I still think it was madness to come out here,’ Sara added. ‘We should have taken off again.’
The Doctor looked at them both, sharply. ‘What good would it do to run away, mm? If we’re being pursued, the sooner we find out who it is – the better!’ He stared about the landscape thoughtfully. ‘This isn’t like the Daleks at all – they’d have been haring all over by now...’
Steven had had enough, and moved to sit down on a rock. ‘Hey,’ he exclaimed, ‘this rock is still hot!’
‘Yes, of course.’ The Doctor patted his arm. ‘This is a young planet, my boy, still cooling down and filled with the fires and impetuosity of youth! Fascinating, utterly fascinating. I do wish we had the time to explore, but there are urgent matters to settle.’ He shook his head. ‘Now, who else would take all that time and trouble to follow us?’
He was lost in his musings. Steven started to look around for a cooler rock to sit on. Sara shook her head. ‘Are we going to stay here for ever?’
‘I hope not,’ Steven answered, looking at the sheer desolation all around. There wasn’t even a sign of life – or any kind of comfort.
‘Yes, and so do I,’ the Doctor agreed. He was smiling, having finally realized who might be on their trail. ‘However, I don’t think that will be
necessary. And, what is more, I think our shadow will soon show himself. Yes, very soon.’
‘You sound as if you know what’s going on,’ Steven commented.
‘Do I?’ The Doctor chuckled happily to himself. ‘Well, there is a possibility – unlikely, perhaps, but possible .’ He chuckled again to himself. Who else could it be?
The robed figure had neatly avoided being seen by the Doctor’s small party, and had now arrived at the TARDIS. He kicked at it with his sandalled foot, then winced with pain. ‘To work, to work,’ he muttered, and set down the battered leather bag he had been carrying. Opening it, he extracted a pair of dark goggles, which he fitted over his eyes. This was a mistake, because they rendered him as blind as a bat. Muttering to himself, he shoved them up on his forehead, then rummaged in the bag again for his laser pencil.
He returned his attention to the TARDIS lock. He almost forgot to pull the gaggles down again, but caught himself just in time. He didn’t want to blind himself doing this little trick, after all. Goggles firmly in place, he triggered the laser. Thanks to the filters in the goggles, he could see quite plainly, and he turned the thin beam from the laser on to the TARDIS lock. His manipulations took just a few seconds, then he switched off the laser pencil. Everything went black again, and he whipped off the goggles. He dumped them and the pencil into his bag and snapped it that before turning his attention back to the lock for a moment.
A broad grin of satisfaction crossed his face. That had fixed him! He patted the TARDIS, gathered up his bag, and set off back to his own TARDIS.
‘Hello! Hello there!’ the Doctor called, cheerfully enough. ‘Don’t you think we should meet and talk this over?’ There was no reply.
‘Who are you expecting?’ Steven asked, exasperated. This place was getting on his nerves. Another volcano belched in the distance, sending up a plume of smoke, a small jet of flames and a loud rumbling.
‘You’ll see, you’ll see,’ the Doctor chuckled.
‘Come off it,’ Steven answered. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. Tell me now – otherwise whoever it is, you’ll say it’s the person you were expecting.’ When the Doctor didn’t reply, he added: ‘You’re cheating.’ The Doctor just snorted.
It was Sara who first spotted their visitor, as he came into sight on a nearby pile of rocks. She yelled and pointed.
The Doctor was not at all surprised to see the Meddling Monk again. He and Steven had met him once before. The Monk was from the Doctor’s home world, and possessed a more sophisticated TARDIS than the Doctor had – though the Doctor refused to admit to that. It still had functional chameleon circuits, for example, and that had been the clue that the Doctor had picked up. He knew that the time-machine that had followed them must be around this spot, but since it wasn’t visible, it must be disguised somehow.
The Monk waved, his cherubic face split by a broad grin. ‘Hello there, Doctor. Keeping well?’
‘Can’t complain,’ the Doctor replied, sociably, as if this were a casual meeting over afternoon tea. ‘And you?’
‘Oh, so-so, you know. So-so.’
Sara glared at Steven, whose face showed a mixture of recognition and irritation. ‘Who is that?’ she hissed. Steven just shushed her.
The Monk nodded at Steven. ‘I’m delighted to see you again, young man.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Steven, drily. ‘I wish I could say the same.’
‘I suppose congratulations are in order,’ the Doctor observed to his compatriot. ‘For your escape.’ The Doctor had stumbled accidentally on the Monk in England in AD 1066, where he was attempting to change history and defeat the invading forces of William the Conqueror. Like the Doctor, the Monk had a fascination for Earth history. Unlike the Doctor, he wanted to tinker and interfere, and try to remake it along the lines that he felt would be better. The Doctor had nipped his plans in the bud, and then stranded the Monk in that era by removing the dimensional stabilizer from his TARDIS. Since the time-ship had been disguised as a stone sarcophagus, the interior had shrunk down to a doll’s-house version of the control room to fill the smaller space available to it.
The Monk looked smug at this comment. ‘Pretty good, wasn’t it?’ he said, without modesty. ‘Took me a little time, of course, but then I hit upon the solution. I managed to visually link the circuits of the dimensional integrator through the scanner linkages, and create a temporary stabilizer. Than I could get into my ship and replace the unit. Simple, but innovative, don’t you think?’
The Doctor inclined his head. ‘Mm, an interesting solution indeed – and very elegant. Something I might have done myself. But I would think it would make for a bit of an uncomfortable time.’
‘You’re right, Doctor,’ the Monk agreed. ‘But one can’t have everything.’ His tone of philosophical resignation changed to one of sly cunning. ‘It’s better than being stuck in 1066, though.’
‘Yes, I imagine it would be.’
Sara was tired of the incessant prattling. She turned to Steven. ‘What’s he talking about? 1066?’
‘We’ve met the Monk before,’ Steven answered softly. ‘I’ll explain later. Just listen for the moment – he’s up to something.’
The Doctor gripped his lapels, and frowned up at the Monk, who was hopping back and forth from foot to foot in his attempt to control his excitement. ‘I take it that it’s the obvious reason that brought you here?’
‘I’m afraid so, Doctor,’ the Monk said, apparently a trifle ashamed of this. Then he brightened up again. ‘Revenge is a strange emotion, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed. I thought – well, I hoped that you might have risen above it. Ignored the temptation.’ He looked at the Monk without much hope of that eventuality.
‘I tried, Doctor, really I tried’ The Monk started to chuckle. ‘But I failed. Oh, I know it’s childish, but I do want my own back’
‘I see.’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘Any plans?’
The Monk rubbed his hands together, gleefully. ‘And all carried out! Yes! You left me in 1066,’ he laughed, tears rolling down his face. ‘Now I’ve marooned you – on the planet Tigus!’ He was almost falling about laughing as he waved, encompassing the terrible landscape. ‘Sorry I keep laughing,’ he said, between gales of merriment, ‘but it’s so difficult to control it!’
‘It must be,’ the Doctor observed, drily.
The Monk waved again. ‘Goodbye, Doctor.’ Picking up his bag, he shot out of sight. His voice came back to them: ‘Perhaps I’ll return and rescue you one day!’
Steven ran over to where the Monk had been standing, but there was sign of the elusive figure. ‘He’s gone,’ he announced, glumly. ‘We’ve got to find him.’
‘It’s much more important that we find out what he’s done to the TARDIS,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘He won’t leave here until he’s sure we’re trapped, and he’s had another chance to gloat. He’s so childish. Come on!’
The three of them dashed back as fast as they could to the TARDIS, which stood where they had left it. Steven had arrived first, and had looked all around it by the time that the Doctor had arrived last, puffing and wheezing.
‘It looks all right,’ Steven said, doubtfully.
‘So did the Monk’s sarcophagus when we left it,’ the Doctor minded him. He began to examine the ship very carefully for signs of interference.
‘You locked the doors when we left, didn’t you?’ Sara asked.
‘Of course I did!’ the Doctor snapped. ‘Whatever he’s done, he couldn’t have got inside.’ Pulling the TARDIS key from out of his pocket, the Doctor moved to put it into the lock.
It slipped away. Puzzled, he tried again, and again the key refused to enter the lock. The Doctor went down on to one knee and peered into the mechanism. Then he straightened up, a serious expression on his face.
‘He’s jammed the locking mechanism,’ he explained. ‘The TARDIS lock has several dozen potential combinations, and will only open to my key or one of the duplicates I’ve made. It’s a matt
er of light refraction. Somehow, the Monk has made all combinations of the lock invalid...’
‘So we’re locked out,’ finished Sara.
‘Yes,’ the Doctor agreed, slowly. ‘We’re locked out.’ Steven looked out over the red-hued surface of Tigus. ‘Then we’re marooned,’ he said, hollowly. Doomed to remain on this volcanic world until the Monk’s appetite for revenge had been sated – if they could live that long.
The Monk was watching all of this from a nearby pile of rubble. He was holding his mouth with one hand, his stomach with the other, and was racked with bouts of silent laughter. This was rich, far richer than he had anticipated!
Steven finished his line of thought. ‘If the Daleks do come after us...’
‘We’ll be at their mercy,’ Sara concluded, grimly.
The Red Dalek joined the Black Dalek in the laboratory. ‘The task-force will shortly be aboard the time-machine.’
‘There most be no delay.’ the Black Dalek replied. ‘As soon as the force is aboard the time-machine, follow the time-travellers. Annihilate them.’
Mavic Chen moved to join them. ‘Where are they now?’
The Red Dalek replied: ‘Still on the planet Tigus.’
Sara and Steven were hammering away at the TARDIS lock with small rocks, without any success. The Doctor had been thinking, and finally moved to push them roughly aside. ‘You’ll achieve nothing like that,’ he told them. ‘Nothing! As if brute force could affect the lock of the TARDIS!’
‘Perhaps not; said Sara hotly, ‘but it’s better than simply accepting exile as our fate.’
‘Like you feel I have, umm?’
‘Well, you haven’t been taking much interest, have you?’ Steven answered.
‘And why? The Doctor raised his eyebrows, and poked a finger into Steven’s chest. ‘Why? I’ll tell you why – because I’ve been letting my brains solve the problem, not brute force. Now – stand back, both of you.’
‘Can you open it?’ Sara asked, eagerly.
‘I shall be able to answer that question in a few moments.’ He took off his large ruby ring, and held it to the door lock. From his inside pocket, he took his small pencil torch. Setting it to its highest power, he shone the light through the crystal in his ring, and focused it on the door lock. The beam played about for a moment, and then he snapped it off, and slipped the ring back on to his finger.
