Deep Time

by Trevor Baxendale

  ‘It must be a thousand metres down, or maybe more,’ Tanya Flexx said dully. ‘We’ve landed right on the edge of some kind of escarpment.’

  The Alexandria lurched again, sliding further over the edge. It wasn’t embedded in the cliff; it was only resting there. Precariously. Even as they watched in mute disbelief the entire spacecraft tilted again, slid further over the edge and then gradually stopped. Crumbling rock and earth, dislodged by the movement, tumbled away over the cliff edge. The gap left caused the ship to slide even further, until it began to tip right up, teetering like an arrow balanced on the edge of a table. Inevitably it was going to go all the way over.

  ‘Where’s the Doctor?’ Clara asked.

  ‘He stayed on board to help Laker,’ said Hobbo. ‘They’re trying to get Jem out.’

  —

  Inside the spaceship, the Doctor and Laker examined the astrogation couch. It was partially crushed under the weight of the collapsed hologram display unit and the compression of the roof. Smoke billowed from cracks in the floor, making it impossible to see anything clearly for more than a few seconds.

  ‘Please hurry,’ said Jem. They could both hear her over the helmet communicators. The Doctor was on all fours, his visor pressed up against the worst of the damage, flapping his hand to try and waft away the worst of the smoke.

  ‘We’re trying,’ said Laker. ‘But something’s got you caught tight.’

  ‘I can’t move.’

  ‘Try not to panic. We need to free whatever’s causing the problem, but without tearing your suit. The Doctor’s checking it out now.’

  ‘We don’t have time,’ Jem said.

  ‘I’m not leaving without you,’ Laker told her. He grabbed the Doctor’s arm. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘The bulkhead support has twisted the couch frame out of shape,’ the Doctor said. ‘The seat restraints are stuck fast.’

  ‘Would a knife cut through them?’

  ‘It might, if we had one,’ the Doctor said. ‘Fortunately I have something a little better than that.’ He held up his sonic screwdriver, which he had put in one of the utility pockets on the leg of his spacesuit.

  ‘We can get her out?’

  ‘I wouldn’t still be here if we couldn’t.’ The Doctor aimed the screwdriver at the seat restraints and it whirred busily. He cycled up through a variety of settings. ‘It’s just a case of finding the right frequency…’

  The ship shook and lurched forward and Jem let out a gasp. ‘Hurry up, please!’

  ‘Shh,’ said the Doctor. ‘Concentrating. I’m trying to get the right frequency to dissolve titanium poly-tritillium. It’s hard enough to say, let alone dissolve, so I suggest you keep quiet and let me work it out.’

  The Doctor worked feverishly for several seconds and the screwdriver made a series of bleeps, buzzes and whistles as he experimented with the settings.

  ‘We don’t have much time, Doctor,’ Laker said as the ship’s superstructure groaned and flexed.

  ‘Give me an E-sharp,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sing! I need a note for the screwdriver. Give me an E-sharp! Didn’t they teach you anything useful at space pilot school?’

  ‘Not how to sing, no!’

  ‘They didn’t even have a choir?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I’ll just have to do it myself then, as usual,’ the Doctor muttered. He let out a strange, discordant sound. ‘I once auditioned for an Ogron choir. Didn’t get in. Apparently there was no vacancy for a light treble! I told them they didn’t have any light trebles at all. “Exactly,” they said. But that’s Ogrons for you: obsessed with Les Mis. No time at all for Rigoletto.’

  The sonic screwdriver let out a shrill whistle and suddenly the straps were free. Jem sprang out of the couch into Laker’s arms. He groaned loudly. ‘I think I’ve broken my arm,’ he told her.

  ‘Let’s do all the mushy stuff later,’ advised the Doctor as the ceiling dropped another half meter with a loud, rending clang. ‘Before we all become mushy stuff.’

  They scrambled through the ship, the Doctor leading the way with Jem and Laker helping each other. Jem was weak, barely able to walk, and, although Laker wanted to carry her, it was impossible with a broken arm. They wriggled through the collapsed sections but the ship kept lurching violently, forcing them to stop and wait before pushing on. By the time they reached the exit, they had to climb up the slope of the floor on their stomachs. When they reached the outside, the exit ramp was suspended three or four metres off the ground. With every grinding second, the ship tilted further forward and the ramp rose higher. On the ground outside, the others were all waiting, calling for them to hurry.

  ‘We’re going to have to jump,’ the Doctor told Laker.

  ‘You go first,’ said Laker. ‘You can help catch Jem.’

  There was no time to discuss it. The Doctor swung his legs over the edge of the ramp, turned, eased himself part of the way down and then hung by his arms for a moment before letting go. He hit the ground and rolled like an experienced skydiver.

  Clara ran down the slope towards him and helped him up. ‘Thank God you’re out,’ she gasped. ‘The ship’s on the edge of a cliff and it’s about to go over.’

  The Alexandria lurched forward again, the rear end rising off the ground in a cloud of dust and crumbling rock. The landing ramp rose higher until it was five or six metres off the ground. Laker and Jem’s faces peered down from the lip of the ramp.

  ‘Jump!’ cried the Doctor. ‘Now, before it’s too late!’

  Jem’s face was pale as milk inside her space helmet. ‘It’s too far!’

  ‘Do it now!’

  Laker said, ‘You’ve got to go. Jump! They’ll catch you.’

  ‘We go together,’ Jem said.

  ‘No, you’ve got to go first,’ Laker implored. ‘They can’t catch us both together. Only one at a time. Now go. Please. I’ll follow you straight away.’

  ‘Jump now or you’ll die,’ yelled the Doctor. Balfour, Tanya Flexx, Mitch and Hobbo had all gathered beneath the ramp, ready to catch whoever jumped next.

  Jem eased forward. Laker appeared behind her and grasped her shoulders. ‘Catch her!’ he shouted, pushing her off the edge of the ramp as it began to rise again.

  Jem screamed for a moment as she fell and then she was caught by the Doctor, Mitch and Clara in tangle of arms and legs and space helmets clacking together. They all tumbled to the ground as the Alexandria reared up like a harpooned whale surfacing from the ocean. Dust billowed from beneath the vessel as it slid inexorably forwards and down, diving slowly and purposefully over the edge of the cliff, taking Dan Laker with it.

  Chapter

  10

  A cold wind blew against the cliff and carried with it the last echoes of the Alexandria’s demise. The air was heavy, dragging a grey, corrosive mist like a curtain over the crash site.

  Clara had watched the Alexandria break apart as it fell, bouncing and jolting down the face of the cliff, shedding engines, bulkheads, all kinds of machinery until there was nothing more than a ball of unrecognisable scrap. There could be no doubt that Laker was dead, and it felt like a more desperate loss than Cranmer, whose demise had been instant and unseen. Clara had looked into Dan Laker’s eyes as the Alexandria slipped over the edge of the cliff and they had both known that he was going to die.

  Clara turned away, tears running down her face. She couldn’t wipe them away with a space helmet on. They just had to flow.

  Jem was sitting on the ground while Tibby and Mitch tried to offer comfort. Clara could see the tears glistening on Tibby’s face too, and could see her lips moving as she spoke. It was impossible to know what she was saying. They’d switched to a private channel. Probably Tibby didn’t even know herself.

  Jem looked hollowed out. Her eyes were dark. Clara knew that feeling, knew it only too well and she did not offer any words of comfort or condolence because she knew it was pointless. In those first, dark, unknowable moments
after losing someone you love, words are just white noise. Life just became something that everyone else got on with. But not you. Not for a long time.

  Balfour was standing to one side, alone. The ability to buy anything in the universe had become irrelevant; meaningless. He looked lost without the familiar shape of Trugg looming over him. No wonder Balfour looked so bereft. He hadn’t just lost his ship, he’d lost a companion. The robot had seemed like a real person to Clara, and so perhaps it had been, in a way. Cranmer, Laker and Trugg. Gone just like that.

  Eventually, Clara found herself back at the cliff edge, which extended in a meandering, jagged line that disappeared into the murky distance. The land stretched away far below, as rugged and unforgiving as could be, shrouded with low, miasmic clouds of acid. The planet seemed to exist in a perpetual dusk, with a lowering sky thick with distant, dark storms. A tiny movement in the air caught Clara’s eye and she realised with a start that there were things flying in the lower clouds, some kind of tough, avian creatures impervious to the acid. Clara tried to remind herself that, whatever the circumstances, seeing all this was still a great privilege.

  Clara looked for the Doctor. He was around somewhere, busy doing his Time Lord thing, while the humans tried to come to terms with death. She spotted his lanky, spacesuited figure clambering up from the very edge of the cliff, hand over hand on the rocks, his grey hair standing up inside his helmet, either from static electricity or excitement. Clara took a deep breath and braced herself.

  ‘We have to get down there,’ said the Doctor, pointing back towards the cliff edge. ‘We have to find the Alexandria.’

  Before Clara could respond, Marco said, ‘What’s the point? It’s scrap metal now. It’s no use to anyone!’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Tanya Flexx miserably. ‘The Alexandria is lost. Luis and Captain Laker too.’

  ‘With no ship to fly, we don’t need a pilot anyway,’ said Marco.

  Mitch stepped forward angrily, bunching his fists. ‘Why you lousy creep! I oughta…’

  The engineer launched himself at Marco, crashing his shoulder into the younger man’s chest and sending him staggering backwards. Tibby cried out as Marco fell and, when Mitch went to stamp on him, Balfour and Hobbo both grabbed the old man by his arms and pulled him back.

  ‘You could have killed me, you idiot!’ Marco said, his voice shrill with fear and humiliation as he got to his feet.

  Mitch’s face was flushed with anger. ‘Dan Laker was my pal, you little rat,’ he snarled. ‘If I had my way now, I’d kick you right off that cliff.’

  ‘Just cool it, Mitch,’ insisted Hobbo. ‘He’s not worth it.’

  For a moment the two men stood facing each other, breathing heavily, and all that could be heard was Jem’s weeping.

  The Doctor gave a disgusted sigh. ‘That’s right, humans. What do you do in a bad situation? Turn on each other. Of course you do.’

  Marco glared at him. ‘I was only stating the truth.’

  ‘The truth?’ The Doctor glared furiously at him. ‘The truth is that we’re stranded on a planet orbiting a dead star countless light years from anywhere. The only chance we have is down there at the bottom of that cliff and we have less than seventy-two hours to get there, but you want to waste time squabbling like infants!’

  ‘The only chance we have?’ Marco scoffed. ‘Get real. Don’t you understand? The ship’s a write-off.’

  ‘My TARDIS was in the hold, remember. It’ll still be there.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  Clara hated to admit it but she too found it difficult to believe anything could have survived, even the TARDIS. Perhaps it was just the grimness of their surroundings, or the loss of life, but she felt as hopeless as she could ever remember.

  Mitch was equally sceptical. ‘Doc, nothin’ will have survived that fall.’

  ‘The TARDIS is tougher than it looks,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘It would have to be indestructible,’ said Hobbo.

  ‘It exists conterminously in five relative dimensions – of course it’s indestructible.’

  ‘But how are we going to get down there?’ asked Tibby Vent. ‘It must be a thousand feet of sheer rock. It’s impossible.’

  The Doctor said, ‘It was impossible for Dan Laker to land the Alexandria the way he did. If it wasn’t for his skill and determination, we would be nothing more than a stain on the surface of this planet. What he did was frankly impossible and we all owe him our lives, every one of us.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jem quietly. Everyone else stayed silent.

  ‘Do you think Laker would have wanted us all to give up now? Just because something looks impossible?’ the Doctor added.

  ‘But seriously: how are we going to get down there?’ asked Marco. ‘Climb?’

  ‘Unless you can sprout wings and fly, then yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘We climb.’

  Marco scowled. ‘I can’t climb down there!’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Mitch sourly. ‘You stay up here and use up your air supply doing nothing. The rest of us are gonna try an’ survive.’

  Balfour turned to Marco. ‘What choice do we have, Marco? Really?’

  Clara said, ‘We stick together. We help each other. If anyone needs help then that’s fine. Chances are we’ll all need help at some point. If we all work together, we can do it. All right?’

  Hobbo nodded. ‘Yeah, come on. We can do this.’

  ‘I’m not going to argue,’ sighed Tanya. ‘But let’s get on with it before I change my mind.’

  Hobbo checked the oxygen supply indicator on the wrist of her spacesuit. ‘I’m on seventy hours. That should be more than enough.’

  Everyone checked their oxygen level and the condition of their suits. No one argued. No one discussed anything. Each member of the group looked within themselves for the strength and resolve they personally required. Some found it. Others pretended they had.

  Eventually Balfour led the way to the cliff edge, saying that he would go first. The others followed without question, forming an orderly queue. Mitch and Hobbo followed Balfour with Jem, then came Tibby Vent and Tanya Flexx, and finally Marco Spritt. The Doctor and Clara waited until last.

  Clara turned to the Doctor and gave him a sad smile. ‘Satisfied? We humans can do more than fight, sometimes.’

  Doctor nodded, watching each of them traversing the edge of the cliff before starting the long climb down. ‘Yes, Clara. Sometimes you can.’

  —

  They began the descent slowly. It was a dizzying drop and every handhold and footstep had to be checked and tested in turn. But the cliff was made from a series of horizontal steps which afforded narrow ledges and outcrops every few metres, meaning that they could stop and rest before continuing with the next part of the climb.

  ‘You can see the clear geological strata in the rock,’ said the Doctor.

  He was right, of course, but Clara couldn’t bring herself to be interested. For one thing, she was too busy concentrating on not falling off the cliff to her death. For another, she was still thinking about Cranmer and Laker and Trugg. She couldn’t just close off things like that in her mind any more. She knew the Doctor could. She wondered if that was a result of long practice, or just the natural indifference of a Time Lord.

  ‘There are rock types here analogous with sandstone on Earth, Clara,’ continued the Doctor, tracing the fingers of one gloved hand along a rough, salmon-coloured horizontal edge in the cliff before him. There was a noticeable change in the hue and texture above and below it. ‘Clay, carbonate substrata, shale…the ancient geological history of this world is right here in front of us.’

  ‘I’m a bit more worried about the immediate future, to be honest,’ Clara told him. She climbed down the last section of steep slope onto the ledge where the Doctor stood facing the rock.

  ‘It’s not as far as you think to the bottom of the cliff,’ said the Doctor. The lights inside his suit collar cast a glow on his old, craggy features and made
a fuzzy halo of his hair. ‘And besides, we’ve got gravity on our side.’

  ‘That’s good, is it?’ asked Clara, eyeing the stomach-churning drop.

  ‘Better than having to climb up the cliff.’

  They climbed down a little further until they caught up with the others. They were getting their breath back, standing together on a generous granite ledge. Balfour was breathing heavily. ‘I’m not used to this kind of exertion,’ he panted, leaning against the rock face.

  ‘I don’t think any of us are,’ agreed Tibby.

  For a second they all stood in silence, savouring the rest, and let their gaze drift over murky, lifeless vista before them. Mist wreathed the ground hundreds of metres below, but in the distance there were dark, jagged mountain ranges scratching at the cloud base.

  ‘Do you think we’re the first humans to visit this world?’ asked Tibby.

  ‘We must be,’ said Balfour.

  ‘I can’t help wondering if the Carthage made it here,’ said Marco. He looked out across the deep valley below, the endless bare rock and distant, sharp-peaked mountains. ‘Although a part of me hopes they didn’t. What a disgusting, poisonous world this is.’

  ‘Is that what you see?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Look again. All of you. What do you see? A planet bathed in a lethal cocktail of X-rays and charged particles? Yes. Sunlight from a dying star so faint in visible light that it can barely cast a shadow? Yes. Land masses scoured by acid rain and storms? Absolutely. And yet it’s beautiful: mountains and valleys, clouds and rain…and over there, look! Birds flying – life! Life doing what life always does: surviving and evolving, and learning to survive better and evolve better every day, no matter what the environment throws at it. That’s what we’re doing now – exactly the same thing as those birds: surviving. Living! Isn’t it a fine thing?’

  No one disagreed. They waited another few minutes and then, to everyone’s surprise, Marco Spritt led the way forward, with Tibby and Balfour following. Clara came behind them with Mitch and Hobbo.