DOCTOR WHO - FURY FROM THE DEEP

by Victor Pemberton

  2

  Something in the Pipeline

  The darkness seemed interminable. No dreams, not even a nightmare. Just a long, dark void.

  Victoria was the first to stir. Her eyes suddenly sprang open, to be greeted by a strange vapour-like mist. She tried to move her lips in an effort to speak. But all she could manage was a croak. Somehow she felt disconnected from the rest of her body, because she was unable to move any part of it. Finally, she made another attempt to speak.

  'Doc-tor... Doc-tor...'

  Although her voice was barely audible, it was enough to produce an immediate response from the Doctor, who was somewhere very close by.

  'Victoria! Are you... all right?' He spoke in a strangulated voice, as if the words were stuck in his throat.

  'I... I can't move... my legs...'

  'I can't move... either... ' Jamie's voice joined them, also from close by. He sounded like his tongue had become too large for his mouth. 'Wh - what's happened to us?'

  One thing was clear. The three time-travellers were certainly not dead, and they were no longer on the beach. They were lying flat on their backs, head to head, spread-eagled on the floor of some enormous building, which at the present moment appeared to them as nothing more than a blurred haze. And all around them, odd sounds. Bleeping, pumping, thumping, electrical, mechanical.

  Gradually, the haze began to clear. Two blurred shadowy figures were standing over the trio, each carrying telescopic rifles. The Doctor managed to focus on them, and regain some of the strength in his voice.

  'Would you mind telling us where we are?'

  The two blurred figures remained silent, and bent down to take a closer look. Their faces seemed large and oval, grotesque and distorted.

  'Why don't you answer?'

  Once again Victoria tried to move, but without success. 'Doctor, what have they done to us?' she wailed. Even the ability to cry had been denied her. 'I can't move!'

  The Doctor tried rolling the pupils of his eyes, but they felt too heavy and stiff. 'Don't panic, Victoria. I think we've been tranquillised.'

  'What!' Jamie was outraged. 'Who do they think they are?'

  'I think it's we who should be asking the questions.' A third face joined the two blurred figures. The voice was gruff and bronchial. 'And I shall expect quite a lot of answers.'

  The haze had now completely cleared to reveal a burly-looking man, probably in his early fifties, with greying hair, a jutting jaw, and vacant grey eyes. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the two guards, and studied each of the three helpless figures spread-eagled before him.

  Jamie found it agonising to try and move the muscles in his face. 'What is this place?' he croaked.

  The man with the jutting jaw leaned closer, enabling Jamie to read the large name-patch on his shiny black plastic uniform: ROBSON, S. CONTROLLER 1. 'You mean you don't know?' said Robson, the corner of his mouth curling into a cynical smile.

  Jamie glared at the jutting jaw with frustrated anger. 'If I could just get up... ' he snarled through clenched teeth.

  'I shouldn't try if I were you!' Robson's smile quickly faded.

  'You know, lying in this position, it is rather difficult to communicate,' said the Doctor. He was right. He and his two companions did look faintly ridiculous stretched out in such an undignified position on the floor.

  'Shall we give them some U4, sir?' The voice was that of a young man in his late twenties. He was a weak-looking individual, with blue eyes, a pale face and gaunt expression, and a mop of blond, unruly hair that constantly flopped carelessly over his right eye. His uniform was too big for him, and he looked as though he could do with a good meal. He had a cultured way of speaking, which was in complete contrast to his boss, Robson. His name-patch showed: HARRIS, F. CONTROLLER 2.

  For a moment, Robson ignored his second-in-command. He was too occupied staring menacingly into Jamie's eyes.

  Harris tried again. 'Mr Robson, sir. The U4.'

  This time Robson swung an irritated glance at him, as if to refuse the request. But after quickly thinking better of it, he straightened up, waved his hand, and strutted off.

  Harris immediately signalled two engineers to come forward. They were carrying small transparent gas cylinders with mouth-piece attachments. Harris took one of the cylinders, then all three engineers knelt down beside the Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria.

  'What are you going to do?' Victoria's eyes rolled from side to side in helpless panic, as Harris approached her with the cylinder mouth-piece. 'Keep away from me... no!'

  'It's all right, don't worry,' said Harris, flicking a lock of his unruly hair out of his eye. 'The U4 will soon bring you round.'

  'No!' Victoria's terrified yell of protest was instantly stifled by the mouth-piece. The same treatment was also given to the Doctor and Jamie, and the sound of hissing gas was heard immediately.

  It took just sixty seconds for the U4 to achieve its task. The first to feel its effect was Jamie, who suddenly felt life returning to his big toes. He quickly pushed off the mouth-piece, sat up, and yelled out triumphantly. 'I can move!'

  Seconds later, the Doctor and Victoria were also revived, and all three were soon on their feet again. At last, they were able to look around the extraordinary building they had been brought to. It was indeed a remarkable sight.

  They were standing in what seemed to be some kind of Communications Control Hall, the nerve-centre of a huge gas refinery. The Hall was completely circular, like the inside of a mosque, and it looked as though it had been built entirely of aluminium and perspex. The floor of the Hall was in fact a well, flanked all the way around by a narrow observation platform, which was reached by means of two or three perspex steps. The walls themselves were almost completely covered by a mass complex of snake-like pressure tubes, valves, gauges, wheels, handles and levers. The windows were port-holes, placed at high angles to reveal nothing but the open sky.

  Dominating the Control Hall itself, however, was the massive aluminium pipeline, which curled overhead around the walls, out to the beach, and beyond, to the rigs in the North Sea. On the observation platform there was a transparent door, through which could be seen the Impeller Area. Here the giant piston thumped up and down relentlessly twenty-four hours a day, pumping natural gas through the main pipeline, out to receiving stations in Southern England.

  The main communications panel was a towering triangular shaped cone in the centre of the Hall. The cone contained at least ten video monitors, and a vast array of satellite computer systems, all linking the Refinery to its rigs and the outside world. And set on top of the cone was a huge illuminated panel, showing the actual position of the rigs out at sea, indicated by flashing coloured lights.

  The Control Hall was manned by a team of engineers and communication technicians, each of them wearing identical one-piece uniforms made of a shiny black plastic material with patches showing each crewman's name and job grading. Only the engineers wore helmets, and these were made out of reinforced transparent perspex.

  The Doctor, Jamie, and Victoria stared in wonder at the vast complex of computerised equipment surrounding them. Lights flashing, buzzers buzzing, distorted voices calling from video monitors, sinister figures in black dashing back and forth in frenzied activity. And behind this, the constant throbbing sound of the giant piston pump, reverberating around the metallic walls.

  'You were on the beach by the pipeline in a restricted area! Why?' The Doctor, Victoria, and Jamie turned with a start as Robson's coarse voice cut through the atmosphere like a rifle shot. Robson was a crude man: there was no place in his life for moderation.

  'We were lost, that's all,' said Victoria timidly.

  Robson ignored her. His attention was fixed firmly on the Doctor. 'You were seen tampering with the emergency release valve remote controls. You're a saboteur!'

  'He's no such thing!' Victoria suddenly regained her fiery spirit. 'He's a Doctor - well, sort of...'

  The Doctor's face creased up into its us
ual affable, innocent smile. 'I can assure you, sir, I was merely being inquisitive.'

  Harris tried to be logical. 'Mr Robson, I don't really see how these people could've had anything to do with...'

  'When I want your opinion, Harris, I'll ask for it!' Robson's eyes were bulging with anger. It was perfectly obvious there was no love lost between the Chief Engineer and his second-in-command. In fact, Robson had always resented the fact that a young man had been appointed to the job, and straight out of University at that. 'Lock them up in one of the cabins. I'll interrogate them later!'

  As he turned, Robson discovered a group of engineers watching him. 'What are you lot standing around for!' he yelled, pushing his way past them. 'When are we going to get some work done around here?' The engineers scattered, and hurried back to their jobs.

  Jamie watched Robson go, then turned to Harris and asked scornfully, 'Is he always as charming as that?'

  Harris was clearly embarrassed by his chief's behaviour. 'Well, we've something of an emergency on at the moment. The fact is, we've just lost contact with one of our rigs out at sea.

  The Doctor was immediately curious. 'You mean, your communications system has broken down?'

  'No. It's just that the crew aren't answering.'

  This made Victoria indignant. 'Well, you can't blame us for that!'

  Harris was unconsciously biting his upper lip. 'There's also been a drop in pressure in the feed line from the rigs,' he said. Then he turned to the Doctor with a reproving, suspicious look. 'You were seen tampering with a release valve on the pipeline.'

  Now it was Jamic's turn to be angry. 'That's no reason for shooting us down like animals!' His outburst provoked the two armed guards into moving in closer.

  Harris shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm sorry about that, but you must realise we're under a security alert and...' he sighed apologetically, 'I'm afraid I'll have to do as Mr Robson says, and lock you up. Follow me, please.'

  Harris moved off, followed by Victoria. For a moment, Jamie stubbornly refused to budge, but after a pacifying look from the Doctor, he joined the others, closely followed by the two armed guards.

  As they left, a buzzing sound was heard, and a green light started flashing excitedly at the top of the Control Cone.

  A young woman approached the Guard Room at the main entrance of the Refinery. She looked as though she was in her late twenties, but could have been a little older. Harris's wife, Maggie, was a beautiful woman, in a very English way. But her peach-like complexion, dark brunette hair, and strongly defined features, disguised a firm and determined nature. Maggie was the kind of woman Harris needed for a wife.

  'Have you a pass, please, madam?' The guard on duty made it quite clear that no unauthorised person was going to get past him today.

  'Pass?'

  'We have instructions that no-one is to leave or enter the Compound without a written pass from Chief Robson. Not until after the emergency.'

  Maggie was indignant. She knew something odd was going on at the Refinery today, but this was downright ludicrous. 'But you know who I am,' she said. The guard shrugged his shoulders. Maggie stiffened. 'My husband is second-in-command to Chief Robson.'

  'I'm aware of that, Mrs Harris.'

  'Then let me pass, please.' Maggie stepped forward as if to walk straight past the barrier. To her absolute astonishment, she found the end of an automatic rifle barrel pointing straight at her chest.

  The guard stared hard into Maggie's eyes, making it perfectly obvious that he was taking his job seriously. In a polite, but firm voice, he said, 'I'm sorry, madam. I think you should return to the residential block.'

  For a brief moment, Maggie stared back in disbelief at the guard. But in that split second, she had decided that it is never wise to argue with a loaded automatic rifle. She turned haughtily, and swept off towards the compound area. Only one thing was now uppermost in her mind. Something very odd was indeed going on at the Refinery today.

  'A movement in the pipeline? Impossible!' Harris was doing his best to show that he wasn't at all concerned. 'Marine life couldn't possibly get inside the pipeline tube. It would never get past the drilling pumps.'

  'Aye. Well, be that as it may,' said Jamie, sitting cross-legged on the top bunk, 'but there was something in that tube, because I heard it too!'

  'And so did I,' said Victoria from the lower bunk.

  Harris had brought the Doctor and his companions to one of the crew cabins in the Control Compound. It was a small, confined space, with two bunk beds, a wash basin, small desk, wardrobe, and a ventilator shaft in the wall measuring about four or five feet. It was more like a prison cell.

  'If the pressure is down in the pipeline, perhaps this is the reason why.' The Doctor was staring out through the port-hole window, towards the beach and open sea. 'Marine life has managed to find a way into the tube.'

  'Impossible!' replied Harris. 'We've spent years of time, money, and research perfecting our emergency systems.'

  The Doctor smiled wryly. 'Well, perhaps there's a fracture somewhere along your pipeline, and something's got in that way?'

  Harris had his doubts. And he was shocked when the Doctor suggested that they turn off the gas flow, at least until they'd had the chance to find out if there really was a movement in the pipeline. Harris insisted that Chief Robson would never agree to that.

  'Why not?' said the Doctor, turning from the window.

  Harris lowered his eyes awkwardly. 'Mr Robson prides himself that the flow has never been shut off since he took charge. He doesn't believe in working to the book.'

  The Doctor shook his head with a sigh. 'Then he's a very silly man.'

  'Maybe so,' replied Harris, astutely, 'but he appears to be right about one thing.' He brushed his usual lock of hair from his eye. 'You do seem to know quite a lot about what we're doing here.'

  Mick Carney's face was on one of the video monitors at the Control Cone. Carney had been in charge of the off-shore drilling Rig D for the past nine months, and had increased gas flow production by nearly four percent.

  'Carney! What the hell's going on out there?' Robson was yelling out his frustration at the video monitor. For the past few hours, contact had been lost with Rig D, throwing the Refinery's communication network into disarray.

  'Everything's quite all right, Mr Robson,' Carney's voice was calm and barely audible. Although he was a man only in his mid-thirties, his appearance had visibly changed during the past twenty-four hours. His face was white, eyes sunken, and hair flecked with grey streaks. 'We have the situation under control, sir.'

  'What? What did you say?' Robson was straining to hear Carney's faint voice. 'Speak up man! I can't hear a word you're saying!'

  Carney merely smiled back without saying a word. He had a strange look in his eyes.

  Robson turned quickly to David Price, the video operator. 'What's wrong with this thing? Are we losing volume?'

  'No, sir. It's nothing to do with us. I don't understand it.' Price adjusted the controls, and spoke louder towards the monitor. 'Mr Carney, could you speak a little louder, please?'

  'Everything... is under control... ' Carney's voice was quite lifeless, almost as though he was day-dreaming.

  Robson snapped back impatiently. 'What about the emergency crew we sent out to you? Have they arrived yet?'

  'They must stay here now... stay here...'

  'Do what?' Robson leaned forward, squinted at the monitor.

  'Accident... slight accident... ' Carney's voice was now no more than a whisper. 'Two men... out of action...'

  For a brief moment, the frenzied activity in the Control Hall came to an abrupt halt. All eyes were turned towards the video monitor.

  Robson's patience finally cracked. 'Now you listen to me, Carney. I want that rig back into working operation right away!' And raising his voice to a shout: 'Do you hear me, Carney!'

  Carney's face remained impassive, his eyes showing no sign of life. All he could be heard mumbling was, '... control...
everything... under control...

  'Carney! Carney!'

  Even as Robson was yelling out, Carney's voice faded, and the video picture started to break up. Suddenly, the screen was blank.

  'Come in, Rig D. Come in, please!' Price was anxiously adjusting every control switch he could lay his hands on. 'I think we've lost contact again, sir!'

  'Well, fix it, man!' Robson turned angrily from the Control Cone, to find himself face-to-face with Harris.

  'Mr Robson, I think we should turn off the gas flow coming in from the rigs, and make a check,' he suggested.

  If looks could kill, Robson would have been responsible for Harris's instant death. 'You think what, Mr Harris?'

  Harris took a deep breath. 'That Doctor chap - the stranger - he said he heard a movement coming from inside the pipeline on the beach.'

  'Oh, did he now?' replied Robson cynically, his jutting jaw more protruding than ever. 'And did he say what he thought it was? Mice?'

  'Mr Robson!' The chief engineer, sweat streaming down his face, was calling from the open door of the Impeller Area. 'She's down another three. Pressure's just on one-fifty-seven.'

  Robson called back. He was clearly shocked. 'One-fifty-seven! Are you sure?'

  'Absolutely, sir.'

  Harris quickly followed Robson towards the Impeller Area. 'That means pressure is down at the rate of three thousand cubic feet every...' he checked his watch, '... every twenty minutes. This definitely proves that something is blocking the pipeline.'

  'It proves nothing of the sort.' Robson had reached the steps leading up to the observation platform. 'If anything, it's a faulty gauge.'

  'At least give us the benefit of the doubt,' pleaded Harris. 'Let's check the inside of that pipeline.'

  Robson turned suddenly. The veins in his forehead were swelling out in anger. 'For the last time Mr Harris - no!'

  'Mr Robson, listen to me!' For once, Harris was determined to be heard. 'This all ties up with what I've been trying to tell you. For three weeks now there's been a regular and increasing build-up and fall in pressure. The time ratios correspond to form a definite progressive pattern.'