Doctor Who

by David Solomons

  ‘There must be a control room somewhere else in this place,’ said Yaz, frantically racing through their limited options. ‘We can open the main doors from there, but we need to find a way into the rest of the vault.’

  She turned to find the Doctor with her ear pressed to the back wall, moving slowly along its length and talking to herself. ‘Yes. Grown, not built. Like a shell. Sea, not turtle, obviously. Cells secrete a protein matrix, which binds calcium ions and encourages calcification. She sells seashells on the seashore. She sells seashells on the sea–’

  The Doctor stopped abruptly, took a pace back and aimed a kick at a point on the wall. The blow was enough to loosen a layer of dust, which fell away to reveal the partial outline of a door. Removing a mitten, she ran a finger round an emerging frame. It clearly hadn’t been opened in a very long time. The doorway was wider than it was tall, designed for something beyond human proportions.

  This was it: their way into the rest of the vault. But there was no obvious handle, keypad or lock.

  With a click, the door began to slide open.

  ‘How did you do that?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘I didn’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘I’m guessing he did.’

  In front of them, filling the doorway with its bulk, crouched a beetle-like creature. It was making a furious chittering noise, and the mandibles on either side of its head twitched alarmingly. Yaz watched in horror as it reached for the Doctor with one of its multi-segmented forelegs, the claw on the end snipping the air.

  ‘Doctor!’

  ‘I’m the Doctor and this is Yaz,’ said the Doctor, standing her ground before the advancing beetle. ‘We’re here to help.’

  ‘I don’t think it understands you,’ Yaz cautioned.

  ‘Our friends are outside the vault,’ the Doctor continued regardless. ‘They’ll freeze to death if we don’t open the door for them. Can you do that?’ The beetle carried on, forcing the Doctor to back away. ‘We won’t hurt you. The Gardeners of Tellus sent us. I’m in a prophecy…’

  Yaz saw that the Doctor’s words were having no effect, as the beetle continued to chitter and snap at her. A more robust response was needed. While Yaz had some training in hand-to-hand combat, she wasn’t convinced it would be of much use against a giant insect opponent. Perhaps the Doctor was better equipped. ‘Hope you know some space karate?’

  ‘Venusian aikido,’ said the Doctor. ‘A more subtle martial art, favoured by a few of us Time Lords.’

  The beetle came to a sudden stop, its attacking posture giving way to a more passive stance.

  ‘I think it does understand you,’ said Yaz. ‘When you said–’

  ‘Time Lord.’ The Doctor and the beetle were nose-to-proboscis. ‘From the planet Gallifrey. Distantly related to those who helped create this Galactic Seed Vault.’

  The beetle stepped back, and then made a strangely human beckoning motion with its claw. It swung round and plodded off through the doorway it had entered from, down a long, dark passageway.

  ‘I think it wants us to follow it,’ said the Doctor. ‘Seems friendly enough.’

  Yaz’s relief at finally communicating their peaceful intentions to the beetle was immediately replaced by uneasiness at heading after it into the unknown. However, she knew that if they were to have any hope of rescuing Ryan and Graham she had to go along.

  As they followed their strange guide, their presence triggered temporary lighting. Sections of the wall glowed as they approached, fading again as soon as they’d passed. They were a moving bubble of light in the darkness.

  ‘Bioluminescence,’ mused the Doctor. ‘Light produced by a living organism. It can sense we’re here.’

  ‘Are you saying this building is alive?’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ she replied, a shadow crossing her face. ‘And I don’t think it’s feeling too well.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The vault has a reputation for being one of the most impregnable buildings in the universe. A death trap to the uninvited. And yet we swanned inside without so much as breaking a sweat.’

  Yaz bridled at the Doctor’s description of how easy it had been. They were, after all, two men down.

  ‘Something is wrong here,’ the Doctor went on. ‘Very wrong.’

  Before Yaz could quiz her further, they came to a transit station at which a capsule-shaped vehicle large enough to accommodate a handful of passengers waited: the vault’s internal transport system. The beetle climbed through a low, open hatch in one side of the capsule, and the Doctor and Yaz stooped to follow it. Since the vehicle was not designed for humans, there were no seats inside. Yaz found a rail to cling to, as the hatch whirred shut, then with a seamless surge of power they sped off.

  They spent a few seconds in a tunnel, before they burst with a whoosh out into what Yaz at first thought must be the outside, so vast was the space. Then she looked up through the transparent canopy and realised that what she’d believed to be a sky full of stars was in fact light reflecting on the underside of a distant ceiling.

  They were travelling through one of the seed storage vaults.

  Pillars of glass hundreds of metres high rose up out of the vault floor, and the transport capsule weaved in and out of the crystalline forest they formed. As the capsule skirted close to one of the pillars, Yaz gasped. It was formed of countless spherical seed jars just like the ones she’d seen in the hangar bay.

  They picked up speed again, passing through a patch of criss-crossing beams of light. Yaz realised that the beams were caused by strange firefly-like insects flitting from one section of the vault to another. The flying bugs were using their lights to inspect each seed jar and ensure that it was in perfect working order, keeping its precious contents at the ideal temperature.

  They passed through a connecting corridor into the next vault, where a handful of fat green shoots slithered like pythons across the nearest wall.

  ‘That shouldn’t be here,’ said the Doctor immediately.

  Yaz was about to ask why not, when their transport capsule shot out from behind one of the glass towers to reveal the rest of the vault. She lifted a hand to her mouth in shock.

  Half of the towers in this vault had been toppled, and countless seed jars lay shattered on the floor. More of the invasive shoots wound their way round the remaining fragile towers. It would be only a matter of time before they fell too.

  Yaz gaped at the devastation. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The renegade Gardeners’ time bomb,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s already detonated. We’re too late.’

  There was the wail of an alarm as the transport capsule’s automatic collision-avoidance systems kicked in and it swerved to avoid a massive chunk of wall falling from above. In front of them, another section of wall crumbled away to expose the snake-like shoots throbbing beneath like veins.

  Leaving the damaged vault behind, they passed through a connecting chamber and into the next vault. It too had been ravaged by the same choking weeds. They passed through wrecked vault after wrecked vault – Yaz counted half a dozen more – until finally the transport capsule dipped towards an exit barely bigger than its own dimensions and blasted into another tunnel. Yaz felt the air pressure build in her ears, and then the press of decelerating forces. They touched down, and the side hatch swung open.

  ‘I think we’ve arrived,’ said the Doctor.

  They got out of the capsule, and found themselves in front of another squat door. Their beetle escort stood to one side and chittered again. With a whir, the door opened on to total darkness. Without hesitating, the Doctor stepped through but, as Yaz went to follow, the beetle scuttled in front of her, blocking her path.

  ‘One at a time, I think,’ said the Doctor, pausing to squeeze Yaz’s hand. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ said Yaz. There was something about the Doctor’s presence that made even the most drastic situation bearable.
She waited while the Doctor proceeded into the next room. A humming noise emanated from beyond, and she glimpsed flashes of light. Thirty seconds later, it was her turn.

  She passed through the doorway into a small, circular chamber with opaque walls. With the same hum she’d heard before, a broad fan of red light appeared and, starting at her feet, moved slowly up her body. As she let the light wash over her, she couldn’t help but reflect on the grim fate of the plant-hunters the Doctor had mentioned. If this was a composting death ray, she hoped it would all be over quickly.

  Not a death ray, she decided after a few seconds. But some kind of scan, perhaps searching for weapons. The Doctor didn’t approve of weapons, and the only item Yaz had on her was the thermos flask of tea. The red light dazzled her as it reached eye level, then it turned green. Surely a good sign – unless green had a different significance on this planet. Yaz held her breath.

  The wall of the chamber revolved, then opened up to reveal a brightly lit room beyond. Yaz allowed herself to relax, if only for a moment, before she stepped into what was unquestionably a control room. No clutter of buttons, switches or levers; just a central pillar topped with a display, sitting at the heart of a circular white space. The display showed an image of a section of the seed vault, presumably fed to it by a camera. Every few seconds the image changed, as it switched to another camera feed.

  The Doctor was already standing in front of the display, and was shuffling through the various feeds by waving her hands at the floating screen.

  ‘Can you see Ryan and Graham?’ Yaz asked, coming to stand beside her.

  The Doctor switched the view so that the image became dark with spots of blue and green and white. ‘I’m using the infrared setting to scan for their heat signatures,’ she explained, as a couple of blurry human shapes bloomed on the screen. ‘There!’

  It was the two men. They had moved away from the entrance, presumably in search of another way in. Yaz and the Doctor had no means of contacting them, but at least they could see that they were okay – for now.

  The beetle joined them in the control room. Yaz turned to it and said, ‘I know you can understand me. You have to open the door and let them inside.’

  No sooner had she finished than the air warped in front of them and a figure materialised. At first it took on an insectoid shape, before cycling through a series of transformations, until it finally settled on a humanoid form. Specifically, a strikingly tall woman with jet-black hair in a pinned-up bun. It wore dark trousers and a white high-collared shirt that was buttoned all the way up. In its long, elegant fingers it held a clipboard.

  ‘I am the Curatrix,’ it said flatly, its eyes suddenly burning red. ‘And you are trespassing.’

  Ryan pulled his coat closer round him and shivered. He reckoned they had another hour out here, max, before they turned into human popsicles. When it was clear that the vault’s main entrance wouldn’t be opening again any time soon, he and Graham began to seek another way in. He ran his gloved hand across the surface, noting its perfect smoothness. If there was another entrance, it was well concealed.

  There was a boom from above. Ryan glanced into the night sky and saw a bright light. He felt a surge of hope that it might be another seed-collecting drone returning to the vault, before he recognised it as the fiery glow of an engine belonging to an atmospheric craft. It appeared they weren’t the only visitors to Calufrax Major today.

  High above, the craft began to circle towards the ground, buffeted by the turbulent mountain winds. As it came closer, Ryan saw that it was scoop-shaped like the three craft that had attacked them on Tellus IV. Could it be one of them? The Doctor had said it wasn’t far between Tellus IV and here, so it was possible – especially if the Gardeners possessed faster-than-light travel, which seemed a good bet. From what Ryan had seen, for a race who on the face of it liked nothing better than to mow the lawn, Gardener technology was highly advanced.

  The Doctor had been concerned about the vault’s air defences, but as Ryan watched the silver craft come in to land it was clear that any defences must be down. A light flared on the underside of the ship, illuminating the ground at the same time as the familiar insignia on the hull: it was Nightshade’s personal craft. It made a pass over the ridge, then set down on a flat section of ground between the chasm and the front of the vault.

  The touch of a hand on Ryan’s shoulder made him jump. Instinctively, he grabbed it and spun round to tackle the attacker. It was Graham. Before Ryan could protest that he shouldn’t creep up on people like that, Graham gestured to the ship. The two of them dropped flat on to their bellies to avoid being spotted, then crawled across the ground and positioned themselves for a better view.

  A hatch opened in the silver craft, and its occupants trooped out. Three armed Gardeners in some kind of leaf armour came first, followed by a taller figure with a criss-cross of purple flowers on his chest. This had to be the infamous rebel they’d been told about.

  One of the armoured Gardeners lumbered to a spot about ten metres from the door, carrying what looked like a rocket launcher. He came to a stop and dug his heels into the snow. Ryan watched in amazement as roots grew rapidly out of his legs, pushing down through the frozen soil to anchor him in place. The Gardener then slung his weapon across his shoulder and took aim. There was a dull whump as it fired, and a moment later a projectile impacted against the door. The weapon wasn’t explosive, but organic – a creeper that spread its vines across the face of the vault with alarming speed. Once it had spidered all the way out to the corners, there was a crack, and the massive door shattered into fragments. The armoured Gardener’s roots then retracted into his legs, and he plodded after his comrades, who were already marching inside.

  ‘We have to follow them,’ said Ryan. ‘The Doctor and Yaz are in there, and they have no idea what’s coming.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Graham said. ‘Did you see what they did to that door?’

  ‘Well, it’s either that or freeze to death out here.’

  Graham muttered darkly, clearly unhappy with either option.

  ‘Remember that mysterious dent in your car door?’ Ryan said, and Graham’s expression turned to one of confusion. ‘Yeah, it was me. I borrowed your car without asking. I wanted to impress Alison Mayer, and I pranged it trying to buy her a drive-through burger.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘Because I figure you can’t get more upset than you already are.’ With that, Ryan got to his feet and padded towards the open vault.

  * * *

  —

  The giant beetle’s legs tap-tap-tapped on the smooth control-room floor, and its mandibles twitched alarmingly.

  Yaz whirled around. This is it, she thought. Any second now. Compost time.

  She backed away, but in her haste she bumped into the Curatrix – except that she didn’t. Although the Curatrix appeared to be solid, Yaz passed right through it. She gave the Doctor a quizzical look.

  ‘A holographic avatar of the artificial intelligence that runs this place,’ the Doctor explained. ‘An unimaginably powerful being. We must be careful.’

  The image stuttered and wobbled, as if the signal generating it was losing strength. The beetle chittered again.

  ‘I think it’s talking to her,’ Yaz said in a low voice.

  ‘Time Lord?’ said the Curatrix at last, turning to the Doctor.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Curatrix,’ the Doctor said with a courteous neck-bow. ‘I saw the damage to the vaults and I’d like to help.’

  The image steadied briefly. Yaz could tell that the Curatrix was making up its gigantic mind about whether to trust the Doctor. Thankfully, the AI was smart enough to know it was talking to an ally.

  ‘You cannot help,’ said the Curatrix. ‘A rogue seed has already infected the facility – a modified variety of noughtweed from the planet Gehenna Prime.’

  The screen in the ce
ntre of the room displayed an image of the same boa-constrictor-like shoots Yaz and the Doctor had seen in the vaults.

  A pained expression came over the Doctor’s face. ‘Noughtweed is unstoppable. It’s outlawed on every civilised world.’

  ‘But it’s just a weed, right?’ said Yaz. ‘Not some terrible biological weapon.’

  ‘It eats biological weapons for breakfast.’

  ‘I have conducted a full-spectrum analysis,’ said the Curatrix. ‘The weed has been modified in several notable ways.’

  The image on the screen changed to show an annotated diagram of the weed’s structure.

  ‘Is that a time propagator?’ The Doctor looked puzzled. ‘Why does it need one of those?’

  ‘Eight vaults are already damaged beyond repair,’ the Curatrix went on. ‘It is only a matter of time until the rest succumb.’

  Yaz felt a spike of anger towards the rogue Gardeners who had caused this. ‘They say they treasure all plant life,’ she said. ‘But, by destroying the seed vault, they’ll wipe out millions of species of plants. It doesn’t make any sense.’

  The Doctor paused. ‘Unless that isn’t their ultimate plan.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She tapped her top lip in thought. ‘Noughtweed is a random weapon, spreading indiscriminately wherever it can find something to get its hooks into. But, as the Curatrix has determined, this variety has been altered. See here.’ She pointed to the display in the centre of the room, which now showed live images of the various vaults. ‘Look at how the creepers are aligned. That’s not nature; that’s programming. Whoever created this variety of noughtweed didn’t simply want to destroy – they wanted to search and destroy. The question is: what’s the weed searching for?’

  Still talking, she began to pace around the room.

  ‘Willow told us that Nightshade regards the vault as a prison. What if he’s after one prisoner in particular?’ She spun round to address the Curatrix. ‘How many seeds are stored here?’