Doctor Who: Shada

by Douglas Adams; Douglas Roberts; Gareth Roberts

  ‘Look, I don’t know what any of this means,’ Clare protested. ‘I’m not an engineer and even if I was I’m not sure I could help you do whatever you’re trying to do.’ It was amazing, really, she thought, how calmly she was taking all of this. Something about the Professor made her heart go out to him, a little like she had felt before with the Doctor. He seemed such a nice old man, and she just wanted to help him.

  The Professor tapped the brass panel meaningfully. ‘Oh dear, did I not explain?’

  ‘Not this particular bit, no,’ said Clare.

  ‘Sorry, thought it was obvious,’ said the Professor. He seemed to be drifting again. ‘Oh dear, that came out rather more pompously than I intended, I do hope you’ll forgive me, young lady.’

  ‘I’ll forgive you anything,’ said Clare, ‘if you just tell me what you want me to do.’

  The Professor tapped the panel meaningfully again, quite clearly forgetting he had just done so. ‘You and I, my dear, we must get this old perambulator of mine moving again.’

  ‘It certainly moved when I touched it before,’ said Clare.

  ‘A spasm, a mere spasm of the emergency mechanism,’ sighed the Professor. ‘I only hope it wasn’t a dying spasm. Nobody likes a dying spasm. Nobody likes spasms much at all, I suppose.’

  Clare gestured to the bewildering view through the curtained windows. ‘You mean we’re stuck? In this space-time vortex?’

  The Professor flinched. ‘And who, may I ask, told you about the space-time vortex?’ he demanded, eyes narrowing.

  ‘You,’ said Clare. ‘You did.’

  The Professor clutched at his head. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. I was confused enough when I was alive. Now I’m dead I’m absolutely hopelessly vague. I suppose it’s inevitable, I mean look at the trouble spiritualists have, all of that “Auntie Sheila says look in a special place for the blue teapot” nonsense, it’s useless…’

  Clare tried to steer him back in the right direction. ‘So we’re stuck?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Professor. ‘The emergency mechanism has left us jammed in the temporal orbit, wedged between two irrational time interfaces. So time is moving away from us. I’ll have to be ever so careful disentangling it all, otherwise I might cease to exist again.’

  Clare gulped. ‘What about me?’

  ‘Oh yes, you too,’ said the Professor, nodding enthusiastically. He seemed to note her troubled expression and patted her on the hand. ‘Just do what I do.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Forget about it,’ he said simply. ‘I’ve done a lot of forgetting in my time. Or rather I suppose I must have done, I can’t actually remember.’

  Suddenly he stared with new enthusiasm at one of the small components he had removed from the panel. ‘Wait a moment!’ he said eagerly and snatched it up. He seemed about to give a cry of victory. But then his shoulders slumped. ‘No, it can’t be done. I can’t fix this on my own.’

  Clare waved a hand in front of the Professor’s face. ‘You’re not on your own.’

  The Professor sucked his teeth and looked between her and the component. ‘Difficult! Very difficult. To repair an interfacial resonator requires two very tricky and very delicate operations that must be performed absolutely simultaneously.’

  ‘Just tell me what to do,’ said Clare. ‘I’m a scientist. A scientist who’s a bit out of her depth, admittedly, but I’ve got a steady hand at least.’

  The Professor smiled sadly. ‘I’m sure of it. But to be honest, my dear, I don’t think you have the necessary technical understanding even to begin to comprehend my instructions. No offence.’

  Clare bristled. ‘I’m a fast learner. Legendarily fast. I’d learned the whole periodic table before I’d started primary school. And then I learned – incredibly quickly – never to mention that fact to anyone else.’

  The Professor stared at her intently. ‘A Time Lord spends over sixty years at the Academy just to grasp the very basics of Gallifreyan temporal theory.’

  ‘Right. Fine. Then we’re stuck in this temporal orbit for ever,’ said Clare, folding her arms. ‘Whatever that means. We can pass the time reciting the periodic table if you like?’

  The Professor gave a small smile, but it quickly faded. ‘It’s no joking matter, my dear. It means dissolution, eventually. Most things do, in my experience. It may take thousands of years of living death for us but eventually the time winds will break down the security systems of this old wreck and—’

  Clare interrupted. ‘Thousands of years of living death?’ She didn’t know how to respond to that. In the end, she heard herself saying very distantly, ‘I had plans.’

  The Professor suddenly sprang to life. ‘Oh my dear! I simply can’t condemn you to that, can I?’

  ‘But if there’s nothing we can do—’

  The Professor leaned in very close to her and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Oh, there is something. But it’s very naughty.’ He looked out of the window. ‘It was naughty for me to still have a TARDIS. It was naughtier still to rig up the emergency mechanism – but this would be extraordinarily naughty…’

  ‘Well if you can’t be naughty when you’re stuck between two irrational time interfaces, when can you be?’ said Clare.

  The Professor grinned. ‘That’s the spirit! The little girl who so diligently learned those boring old elements would undoubtedly be aghast.’

  ‘I should have been playing hopscotch, anyway,’ Clare grinned back.

  ‘I’ll teach you that later. Now then,’ he said briskly, ‘what is that piece of equipment you are holding in your hand?’

  Clare stared at it again. It was a complicated-looking thing, metallic yet criss-crossed with filaments of what might have been coral. ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Good,’ said the Professor. He took off his spectacles and cleaned them absently with his tie, staring blearily at her as he did so. He was one of those people who looked very different without their glasses. ‘How about now?’

  ‘Now what?’ said Clare.

  ‘Now,’ said the Professor, slipping his spectacles back on, ‘what is that piece of equipment you are holding in your hand?’

  Clare looked down at it. The answer to his question was obvious. ‘This? It’s a conceptual geometer relay with an agronomic trigger. The field separator’s gone kaput, but that doesn’t really matter, because we can dispense with it totally if we can get that interfacial resonator working again.’

  The Professor smiled. ‘Splendid!’

  ‘Let’s get on with it, then,’ said Clare. ‘No point hanging about here.’

  She crossed to the console and picked up the resonator, turning it over in her hands. ‘Yeah, very tricky job, see your problem here,’ she said, sucking air through her teeth. ‘We’ll have to strip the lexifier coating totally. You got a spanner?’

  As the Professor hurried off to find such an object, Clare stood staring at the console, thinking. It occurred to her that if they got the resonator going, then gave the rotor a quick burst – well as long as the omega configuration was folded back and the lateral balance cones held out, then it was a case of Bob’s your uncle, no temporal orbit.

  What it didn’t occur to Clare to think, not even for a second, was exactly why or how she knew any of it.

  Chapter 54

  ‘OOH!’ MOANED THE Ship as she engaged her makeshift relative dimensional stabiliser once again and shifted out of the space-time vortex to materialise back in normal space. ‘That hit the spot!’

  ‘I hope you’ve kept your defence shield up,’ called the Doctor, who was polishing off the last of the delicious treats from the golden trolley.

  ‘I followed your orders to the letter, Doctor,’ trilled the Ship happily. ‘We have now materialised at the specified coordinates as instructed. Nobody, not even Skagra, can possibly tell that we have arrived. Big as I am, I can be an inconspicuous little thing when I want to be, you know.’

  Through the forward screen Chr
is could see only a pair of large circular white doors at the end of a rocky corridor. ‘It doesn’t look very inspiring.’

  ‘You can find any number of amazing things at the end of a corridor,’ said the Doctor. ‘At the moment, I’d just settle for the one. Romana. Though the TARDIS comes a close second, naturally.’

  K-9’s ears twizzled excitedly. ‘Confirm proximity of Mistress Romana and the TARDIS, Master.’

  ‘It must be my lucky day,’ cried the Doctor. ‘I should have gone for three wishes and bunged in peace across the universe while I was at it.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Right, this should be a simple enough rescue mission. Come on, you three!’ He made for the gap where the door leading from the command deck used to be, Chris and K-9 following.

  ‘I’m afraid I cannot join you, Doctor,’ said the Ship. ‘But thank you very much for the invitation. It’s certainly never been extended to me before. Oh my, you have given me rather a lot to think about.’

  The Doctor stopped a moment and looked up. ‘Well, sorry, I didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Oh please,’ said the Ship, ‘there’s no need to apologise. I’m sure that all forms of life, no matter what the definition of life may be, must at some point be forced to consider the great abstracts of existence such as love, death, happiness, even personal morality. You, Doctor, have opened my eyes to these big questions. I’m going to go through everything I have in my data store on these weighty topics and then I’m going to jolly well form some definite opinions on them.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ said Chris.

  The Ship seemed to pick up on the irony in his tone. ‘Oh, I’ll find the answers, don’t you worry little Earth person,’ it said a little snappily.

  ‘Imperative we commence rescue mission, Master,’ entreated K-9, his servos revving.

  ‘Quite right,’ said the Doctor. ‘Come on, you two, best feet forward.’ He strode out with K-9, Chris hurrying after.

  ‘Have we got a plan, then?’ asked Chris.

  The Doctor grinned a huge grin. ‘I don’t know, but it’ll be fun finding out. Keep up, Bristol.’

  Romana had lost all hope. She stood under guard and watched as more and more Kraags strutted from the generation chamber and into the observation dome. There were now at least five hundred of the creatures arrayed in military formations before Skagra. He stood at the console, the book clutched tightly in his gloved hand.

  Finally the Kraag Commander emerged and stomped over to its master. It bowed its crowned head to him and rasped, ‘Main-stage generation complete, my lord. We have a full complement.’

  Skagra nodded. ‘Good. Then proceed to your stations.’

  The Kraag Commander bowed again, and gestured to the ranks of his fellows. Immediately, in perfect unison, the long formations of Kraags marched out through a series of dark, almost invisible arches cut roughly into every side of the huge arena. Romana watched as the fiery army filed out, the glow in the room diminishing in their wake, until just the Kraag Commander and one other remained, both standing uncomfortably close to her, their red eyes fixed on Skagra.

  Skagra indicated the TARDIS. ‘We shall depart immediately for Shada! Bring the Time Lady.’

  Romana felt a pang of deep despair. The battered blue box, which had always symbolised warmth and security to her, now looked like an alien object, its wooden exterior illuminated oddly by the sickly red glow of her Kraag escort and the harsh, cold light thrown down from a billion suns.

  Then she became aware that Skagra’s face had set in an expression even stonier and more imperturbable than usual. He was staring over her shoulder at something.

  She felt a familiar tap-tap on that shoulder.

  She whirled around, and saw the Doctor, accompanied by Chris Parsons and K-9.

  ‘Doctor!’ Her hearts surged with relief. ‘You’re alive!’

  The Doctor coughed, ‘Well there’s been a certain amount of debate on that topic of late, but generally speaking I think I’d agree with that statement. Hello Romana.’

  Romana grinned. How had she ever believed the Doctor was dead? ‘But how did you get here?’

  ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, ‘these kind gentlemen escorted us.’ Two more Kraags stood threateningly behind his small group.

  And Romana’s hearts sank once again. All this despair, hope, cruelly crushed hope and despair again wasn’t doing them any good at all, she reflected.

  But the Doctor was alive.

  And that meant anything could happen.

  Chapter 55

  AT FIRST, THINGS had gone well with the rescue mission. The Doctor, Chris and K-9 had managed to get at least fifty yards from the ship before they were apprehended by two Kraags and guided in a rough but effective fashion down a long rock tunnel and straight into what must be, thought Chris, Hell. He barely had time to register the captive Romana, her Kraag guards, the TARDIS sitting in the middle of it all, and the brilliant view of the infinite universe, however, because – incredibly enough – something else was bothering him.

  The man who stood at the centre of this grand arena, dressed in a white tunic, with the book that had started all of this clutched tightly in one gloved hand – Chris was certain he’d seen him somewhere before. It was really going to irritate him until he worked out where. He supposed that it was a good thing to be so distracted, as it seemed likely they were all about to die some sort of horrible fiery outer-space death.

  The man was staring back at him with an odd, stony expression. Chris was wondering if the chap had recognised him back and was trying to place him, too. Then he realised that the man wasn’t looking at him at all, but just to his right. One’s eyes can play tricks across fifty feet of sulphurous cavern lit only by the dim glow of the entire universe. The man was in fact staring at the Doctor.

  ‘Doctor,’ the man said, in a voice that was clearly trying not to express surprise, anger and disappointment but was failing on all three counts.

  ‘Hello there, Skagra!’ the Doctor called back with massively inappropriate cheeriness, giving a cheeky wave.

  ‘That’s Skagra?’ said Chris. ‘But I’m sure I’ve seen him before somewhere…’ Suddenly the memory clicked into his mind and Chris pointed an accusing finger at Skagra. ‘You’re that bloke,’ he said. ‘You pushed past me in the corridor at St Cedd’s, very rudely, just before I found the Professor lying dying all over the carpet…’ Full realisation dawned at last. ‘Oh. Oh, I see.’

  ‘Shut up, Chris,’ hissed Romana.

  Skagra walked smartly forward, looking the Doctor up and down as if to check he was really there. ‘I am,’ he said, as coolly as he seemed able, ‘a little…’ Skagra paused as if grasping for a word he’d never had cause to use before, ‘… surprised to find you here, Doctor.’

  The Doctor shuffled his feet and rubbed his nose as if embarrassed. ‘Yes, well, your ship was a little surprised to find itself bringing me.’

  Skagra tried hard not to raise an eyebrow. ‘You stole my ship?’

  ‘Only after you stole mine,’ said the Doctor, nodding to the TARDIS. ‘Ah, there she is! I hope you’ve been looking after her. May I check? If you’ve been over-revving her in third phase –’

  He made for the TARDIS but the two Kraags automatically barred his path. ‘I see,’ said the Doctor. ‘Well, you’ll be happy to know I’ve returned your ship in perfect working order, if not a little improved. You were very naughty setting her to self-destruct, you know, that poor girl worships you.’

  ‘A machine consciousness is worthless,’ said Skagra. His eyes never wavered from the Doctor’s smiling face.

  The Doctor gasped in mock-horror. ‘Don’t listen to the nasty man, K-9,’ he said.

  Chris was uncomfortably aware that Skagra could order their deaths at any moment. They had no weapons, no plan. But somehow the Doctor’s childish goading had, incredibly, tipped the scales in their favour. Skagra was clearly intrigued and off-beam, at a disadvantage. Chris reflected that a horr
ific place like this, with all the odds so grotesquely stacked against him, was where the Doctor magnificently belonged. Like some people belonged behind a bar, or in a very big office behind a very big desk, or swallowing swords on stage at the London Palladium. This was where the Doctor was at his best.

  ‘I am curious to know how you survived the treatment of my sphere,’ said Skagra flatly.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on the poor old thing. We Time Lords have highly trained minds.’

  ‘So I am aware.’ Skagra nodded, as if satisfied that he was now up to speed. ‘Doctor,’ he went on, ‘if you have come here in the hope of interfering with my great purpose, I am afraid you will be—’

  The Doctor’s laugh cut him off. ‘Ha! Great purpose! You?’

  Chris saw Romana trying to catch the Doctor’s eye, shaking her head a little as if to indicate that he shouldn’t, for once, be quite so dismissive.

  ‘Yes, Doctor,’ said Skagra, ‘the very greatest purpose.’

  If the Doctor had noticed Romana’s look, he ignored it. He laughed again. ‘Great purpose?’ He wagged a finger in Skagra’s general direction. ‘I know what you want to do, you old sly-boots. You want to take over the universe, don’t you? I’ve met your sort before. Any moment a mad gleam will come into your eye and you’ll start shouting “The universe will be mine!”’

  Skagra looked at him quizzically. He was clearly devoid of any mad gleam and was not going to shout.

  ‘How naive, Doctor. How pathetically limited your vision is. “Take over the universe”. How childish. Who could possibly want to take over the universe?’

  The Doctor seemed slightly thrown by this, but pulled himself back on track. ‘Exactly!’ he said. ‘That’s what I keep on trying to tell people. It’s a troublesome place, difficult to administer, and as a piece of real estate it’s worthless because by definition there’d be no one to sell it to—’