Deep Time

by Trevor Baxendale

‘Well,’ Cranmer said, peering down at his computer display again. ‘It’s quite remarkable, actually. I confess that I don’t understand it completely. But it appears that there are some extraordinary spatio-temporal phenomena occurring on or around the planet.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asked Marco.

  ‘There is a layer, or a shell, of chronons and anti-chronons surrounding the planet in a highly agitated state, throwing off a storm of loose tachyons and Hawking radiation.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Tibby. ‘Can’t you explain it a little better?’

  ‘The readings are unusual and difficult to interpret,’ Cranmer said, ‘but there appear to be overlapping spheres of discrete time surrounding the planet.’

  ‘Oh, that makes it a lot clearer,’ said Marco with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘He means it’s not just any old toxic planet lost in deep space,’ said the Doctor. ‘I couldn’t materialise my TARDIS there even if I wanted to. The temporal interference would act as an impenetrable barrier to a time machine.’

  He paused, making sure that he had everyone’s complete attention.

  ‘There’s only one way onto that planet – and that’s in the Alexandria.’

  ‘But why do we have to go there at all?’ asked Cranmer.

  ‘It’s what we came for, isn’t it?’ said Tibby crossly.

  ‘It’s certain death!’ Cranmer said. ‘Seventy-two hours’ air, remember.’

  ‘You can do a lot in seventy-two hours,’ said Tibby.

  The Doctor’s fingers clicked loudly and he pointed at Tibby. ‘Correct.’

  No one looked as if this was the most reassuring thing they’d heard all day, but the Doctor seemed not to notice, because at that moment the Alexandria rocked slightly and everyone had to reach out for something to hold.

  ‘We’ve been caught in some kind of gravitational field,’ said Laker. His hands were busy at the flight controls, adjusting to the sudden turbulence.

  ‘It’s the charged chronon layer,’ said Cranmer, tapping his computer. ‘It’s creating some kind of gravity vortex, pulling us in…’

  The planet suspended in the holoviewer looked suddenly very close. Clouds swirled across the surface, tracing the paths of continental storms flickering with electrical charge.

  ‘What we’re seeing now are real time pictures at full scale,’ said Laker, making another adjustment to the controls. ‘Whatever’s happening on that planet, we’re seeing it now.’

  The planet was growing larger by the second as the Alexandria moved into orbit, rocking from side to side as it flew through the chronon fields. A web of blue and purple light, pulsing like the arterial veins, flickered across the surface and drew great clouds of darkness into the atmosphere.

  ‘Best get your spacesuits on,’ announced Laker. ‘This could get rough.’

  For a moment nobody moved. It was almost as if no one could quite believe it had actually come to this. Suddenly the prospect of wearing a spacesuit was very uninviting, but a further shudder through the Alexandria focused minds very quickly.

  ‘The suits are all here,’ said Balfour, touching a wall control. A series of panels slid noiselessly aside to reveal plastic packs in recessed units. Trugg moved forward and began to hand out the packs to everyone on the flight deck.

  ‘The spacesuits are made from the latest steelex conform mesh with chain-molecule superglass helmets and fully compressed oxygen rods,’ said Trugg.

  ‘We don’t need the sales pitch now,’ said Balfour. ‘Just give them out.’

  Clara took one of the packs from Trugg and found it to be much lighter than she expected. Future materials, she guessed; presumably very durable but without much weight. She unsealed the pack and removed a metallic blue one-piece similar to a wetsuit. The material was soft and extremely flexible; nothing like the bulky suit she had once worn on the Moon.

  ‘Put it on over your clothes,’ advised the Doctor, who was already pushing his legs into the suit from his own pack. ‘The material will expand to whatever size is needed. It should be able to manage, even with you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Clara said drily. She pulled on the spacesuit and discovered that it automatically adjusted itself and sealed without her having to do anything at all.

  The Doctor looked even skinnier than normal in his spacesuit. He was already pulling on slim white boots and a pair of matching gloves. Clara did the same, and found that these too sealed themselves to the rest of the suit. It was surprisingly comfortable and warm.

  ‘Helmets,’ said Balfour as Trugg distributed a number of transparent globes fitted to flexible collars. To Clara they looked rather fragile, and she hesitated to put it on.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said the Doctor, rapping a knuckle against his own space helmet. ‘It’s unbreakable – a kind of chain-molecule polymer with a polarising light filter. You could chuck a house brick at it and it won’t even scratch.’

  ‘The name tag will activate according to your vital signs,’ Balfour said. ‘Doctor, Miss Oswald, you may have to put yours in manually.’

  There was a digital display embedded in the glass. After a moment or two Clara worked out how to use it and typed CLARA. ‘Where are the oxygen tanks? What do we breathe?’

  The Doctor indicated a small device attached to the back of the helmet. ‘Compact life-support unit with solid oxygen rods. That’s enough air for three days; two if you spend it running up a hill.’

  ‘Let’s hope there are no hills, then,’ Clara said, pulling the helmet on. It clicked into place on the collar of her suit and she heard the pneumatic hiss of the seal engaging. For a moment everything seemed muffled until the air system activated and some kind of transceiver allowed sound in and out of the globe.

  ‘You’ve got atmospheric audio pick-up now,’ Balfour advised them. ‘In vacuum conditions you’ll need to switch to radio comms. Each suit has its own transponder. The controls are on your sleeves; you can adjust the environmental settings as well if you want, although the suits are all thermostatic.’

  ‘Where do we sit?’ asked Tibby. She was helping Luis Cranmer into his suit.

  ‘There’s a bank of emergency seating situated behind the captain’s chair,’ Balfour said. ‘It’s a standard safety feature on all Heracles-class starships, but these have been updated with—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Marco. ‘Just get on with it!’

  Trugg operated a control and two rows of chairs rose smoothly out of the deck behind the captain’s chair and the astrogation couch. The seats were tilted back at an angle and had safety bars fitted. They reminded Clara uncomfortably of the seats in a theme park rollercoaster.

  The ship was shaking quite a lot now and it was getting difficult to stand upright. Clara was surprised to see that the holographic view of the planet had flattened out into nothing more than a vast, curved horizon and black sky. They had already reached the upper atmosphere and the Alexandria was starting to feel it.

  ‘All set?’ Laker called back. ‘Better sit down and strap in.’

  ‘It’s been a while since I had to strap in for landing,’ said Mitch.

  ‘I bet you had to do it all the time in the old days,’ said Hobbo. ‘You and Neil Armstrong.’

  ‘Cute,’ Mitch replied. ‘Real cute.’

  Marco had already taken his place in the row behind Laker and Jem and, as there was nowhere else to go, Clara and the Doctor sat with him. Cranmer eased himself carefully into the seat next to Clara. He didn’t look happy; his face was sweating profusely inside his helmet. Clara tried to think of something wittily reassuring to say but couldn’t. She settled for giving him a brief smile, which she suspected looked more like a worried grimace.

  ‘I hope this is over quickly,’ he said, closing his eyes.

  ‘Right,’ said Laker, raising his voice over the noise of the turbulence. ‘I’m switching to radio. Channel 1 on your suits.’

  They all inspected the controls on their forearms and selected the right channel. Instantly
Laker’s voice sounded inside their helmets, as clear as if he was standing right next to them.

  ‘I’m taking us in as best I can but it’s not going to be pretty. Autopilot can only do so much, so the rest is down to me. If we crash, it’s the computer’s fault. If we make it, then it’s mine.’

  ‘You’ll be great,’ said Jem. ‘Go for it.’

  The Alexandria was skirting the planetary atmosphere, bumping and jolting every time the underside of the ship touched the edge. A screaming sound began to build up as the ship nosed deeper into the air. They were still some way above the cloud layer, but already they seemed to be coming in at a very steep angle.

  Clara reached out and grabbed the Doctor’s hand. It was purely instinctive. ‘Not done this before,’ she said. ‘One to cross off the bucket list.’

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ the Doctor said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Luis Cranmer nervously.

  Clara suddenly remembered they were talking on an open channel, and everyone could hear the conversation.

  ‘Actually, there’s quite a lot to be worried about,’ said the Doctor. ‘Gravity for one thing, of course. That’s the main problem. Get that one wrong and splat! The ride’s over.’

  Cranmer swallowed audibly and turned back to face the hologram of the planet. The clouds were rushing up to meet them, thin streams of vapour whipping past the ship as it dived towards the surface.

  ‘Gravity will pull us down towards the surface all right – but luckily for us there’s an atmosphere, which will cause friction if we keep the angle of re-entry just right. That’ll help to slow us down.’

  ‘Won’t we burn up or something?’ asked Cranmer.

  ‘Well that’s the problem with friction. The temperature will shoot right up and if it gets too hot the ship will ignite and we’ll all be incinerated in a gigantic fireball.’

  Cranmer groaned and closed his eyes. ‘I think I’m going to puke.’

  ‘Don’t,’ warned the Doctor. ‘Spacesuit. Not a good idea.’

  ‘It hardly matters if I’m going to be burnt alive!’

  ‘Ah, but the blunt shape of the Alexandria will create an ablative shockwave as it passes through the atmosphere,’ explained the Doctor. ‘That shockwave will keep the worst of the heat away. Plus the hull is made from a special material which will absorb a lot of the heat. So no worries there.’

  ‘You mean we’re going to be OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘We’re going to be OK.’

  Clara felt something move beneath her hand and looked down. The Doctor had crossed his fingers.

  Chapter

  9

  The Alexandria skimmed the edge of the atmosphere, throwing off plumes of superheated plasma before plunging towards the planet’s surface.

  The ship immediately began to buckle under the intense changes in atmospheric pressure. Exterior panels bent and twisted and peeled away from the hull, disappearing in a stream of molten alloys. Insulation layers bubbled and trailed lines of black smoke. The Alexandria drew a long, dark scar across the steel-coloured sky and disappeared into a gigantic storm cloud.

  Laker could barely see the holoviewer. The ship was vibrating so badly it was impossible to focus. He glimpsed layers of cloud rushing towards him, and flashes of lightning which were so bright they left him momentarily blinded. He concentrated on keeping the vessel under control, his hands white and painful with cramp. It took all of his strength to keep the ship level. Toxic clouds whipped past the ship in long, grey streamers. Alarms flashed on the flight controls as the cocktail of acids ate into the hull. Laker ignored them. There was nothing he could do about the acid except hope it didn’t touch anything vital. Finally he began to feel the Alexandria bouncing against the weak thermals rising from the planetary surface and he activated the aerofoils. The ship was shaking so much it was impossible to tell if the wings were deploying properly. He fought to keep the nose down, aware that with the increased surface area provided by the wings there was a danger the ship could just flip over on its back and die in the air. Sure enough the ship began to roll heavily to starboard and there was a loud scream of rending metal. The Alexandria tipped over and Laker gritted his teeth and hauled on the controls. The horizon tilted in the holoviewer, and he saw a blur of land flash past the ship, over his head as it turned completely, and then slide around to the other side as he tried to bring it level.

  The Alexandria broke out of the heavy cloud layer, and Laker realised to his dismay that the ground was much closer than he’d thought. The ship was diving towards a rocky landscape and warning alarms fired off around the flight deck as the altitude, pitch, roll and yaw sensors all went into the red. He’d lost control. There had been too much damage from the heat of re-entry and the acid clouds.

  There was nothing Laker could do now. His hands felt numb on the controls and his mind was blank. He could only watch as the surface of the planet approached in a terrifying blur.

  —

  The scream of the Alexandria’s dive merged with the screams on the flight deck as the ship hit the ground. Laker did his best to pull the craft up enough to take the hit and slide, but even so the noise was deafening, and Clara felt herself thrown forward so hard she thought the seatbelt would break every rib she had. The breath rushed out of her lungs in one convulsive blast and for a moment she lost all consciousness.

  The noise woke her. It sounded like her alarm clock and briefly she thought it was morning and time to get up. But then the alarm sound mingled with the noise of tearing metal and she opened her eyes to see a huge section of the flight deck roof sagging towards her. Pieces of blackened plastic and debris from exploded control consoles littered every surface. Black smoke curled around figures in spacesuits fumbling their way out of the seats. Flames flickered in dark recesses, licking out hungrily for something more substantial to devour. The alarm noise, Clara slowly realised, was an alert sounding in her suit helmet. Entoptic displays glowed on the transparent visor, warning her of toxic vapour. She began to scrabble at the buckle on her seatbelt but she couldn’t get a proper grip with her gloves. Cranmer sat rigidly beside her, probably frozen with terror.

  Someone was talking to her. A spacesuited figure loomed out of the smoke. On the helmet was the word DOCTOR. ‘Come on, Clara, we have to get out of here quickly.’

  ‘Is the ship going to blow up?’ she asked. Wasn’t that what happened when things crashed?

  ‘I don’t think so, but we have to get out. It’s not stable. The hull superstructure could collapse at any moment.’

  Clara fumbled at her seatbelt again but the Doctor knocked her hands away and unfastened it himself, hauling her out of the seat. She was shaky, barely able to feel her legs. She flinched when another sudden squeal of tortured metal accompanied the roof as it buckled under its own weight. Electronics, exposed in the gaping wounds between the metal panels, bled gouts of bright sparks and then torrents of flame.

  The others were milling around, helping each other towards the exit. She saw Tanya Flexx helping Balfour climb over some wreckage towards a half-collapsed doorway. The wreckage was the remains of Trugg. The robot had been crushed beneath falling debris; none of his lights were flashing any more.

  ‘Trugg’s gone,’ Clara said sadly.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said the Doctor. ‘Come on, we have to hurry.’

  ‘What about Cranmer?’ she asked, turning to the seat next to her.

  ‘He won’t be coming with us either.’

  It took a moment for Clara to comprehend what she saw. A long metal roof stanchion had broken off during the impact and landed on Cranmer. His space helmet had been completely smashed. Clara looked away instantly. A numb sense of shock and repulsion flooded through her. It wasn’t even the physical damage; it was more the unbelievable sensation that Cranmer, the person, the personality, was gone. Gone forever. Extinguished in a second. Half a metre to the left and the stanchion could have gone through her instead. Clara didn’t
feel any sense of relief or guilt, just a strange, fluttering, shaky feeling right in the centre of her body.

  She let the Doctor lead her away from the seats, numb and cold. He took her to the exit, stepping over bits of machinery and wreckage that Clara didn’t even recognise. ‘Go with Mitch and Hobbo. Help the others, Clara, they need organising.’

  She responded as he knew she would, following Mitch and Hobbo as they climbed over Trugg’s crushed remains and led the way out of the wreck. Some of the interior passageways had collapsed and they had to crawl through narrow gaps between the jagged edges of torn bulkhead.

  ‘Watch your suits,’ Mitch advised.

  Clara stuck with Hobbo and together they inched their way to the main exit. Smoke filled the passageways, and sometimes they had to grope their way along. Any moment, Clara feared, she would catch her glove on a sharp piece of metal and tear it open. Liquid dripped through gaps in the roof, and as it ran down the walls and formed cloudy pools on the floor, Clara saw thin wisps of smoke rising from the puddles. Acid rain, of course.

  After what seemed an age they climbed down the twisted remains of the landing ramp and out onto the surface of an alien world. Clara didn’t feel in the mood to appreciate it. The air was foggy with smoke, the ground hard and rocky and grey as ashes. It reminded her of the Moon, only here there was a sky – greenish grey and streaked with low, churning clouds. Rain speckled her suit and visor and left faint patches where the acid tried to burn through.

  Tibby Vent stood with Tanya and Marco a few metres away. Clara clambered up the flinty slope towards them with Mitch and Hobbo. Loose earth had been thrown up by the impact, and Raymond Balfour sat at the top, looking at his beloved Alexandria. With a terrible groaning of strained metal, the whole thing lurched forwards.

  ‘It’s hanging over a precipice,’ said Balfour. There were tears on his face, and his voice, full of emotion, sounded loud inside Clara’s helmet. Everyone looked towards the front of the Alexandria and saw that he was right – the bows were suspended in the air, with the rest of the craft seemingly embedded in the edge of a cliff. The flight deck extended out over the edge, like a swan peering into the abyss.