DOCTOR WHO AND THE BRAIN OF MORBIUS

by Terrance Dicks

  For the first time she became fully aware of her surroundings, the laboratory now fully revealed in the bright light of the electric globes. She saw equipment-piled benches, racks and trays of brightly gleaming surgical instrumentsand the head of Kriz still fastened to the metal grid. Sarah shook her own head in wondering horror. 'Solon's mad,' she thought, 'he's just got to be mad.' She glanced again at the curtain-shrouded bed. Was Solon really planning to remove the Doctor's head and somehow attach it to that? It was too horrible even to think about. And where was the Doctor? Realising that the shock of seeing the Monster had distracted her from her search, Sarah started moving around the laboratory. Perhaps there was some kind of annexe leading off, a concealed door even... She hadn't got far with her search when she heard voices and footsteps. Solon and Condo were coming back. Hastily Sarah ducked down behind the bed, and peeped cautiously out.

  Solon came into the laboratory, pausing impatiently in the doorway as Condo's clumsy fingers helped him into a surgical gown. 'Hurry, man. I must sterilise all the implements before we begin. You understand, Condo?'

  'Yes, Master.'

  Solon knew full well that Condo didn't understand at all, but he was so full of enthusiasm over the coming operation that he simply had to go on talking about it. 'You see, in this type of operation the risk of infection is very high. The slightest inflammation could totally ruin—'

  The flow of words cut off as Solon caught sight of the bench where he'd left the Doctor. A guttural choking came from his throat, as sheer astonishment deprived him of the power of speech. Condo looked down in puzzlement at his master, and Solon gesticulated wildly towards the bench.

  Condo looked across at the empty bench and frowned. He turned back to Solon, and once more demonstrated his mastery of the obvious. 'Doctor gone,' he said simply.

  Solon was almost beserk with rage. 'Imbecile! Imbecile!' He reached up and cuffed Condo savagely across the face. 'I can see he's gone, you chicken-brained biological disaster! But how? Where?' He grabbed Condo and shook him. 'The drug—did you put all of it in?'

  'Yes, Master. All of little bottle in big one.'

  'Then he can't have gone far. Not even a Time Lord could shake that dose off so soon.' Solon began pacing up and down the laboratory. Suddenly hestopped, and hammered a fist down on the bench. 'The Sisterhood! That squalid brood of harpies. They've rescued him with one of their wretched telekinetic tricks! That accursed hag Maren found I was holding a Time Lord and rescued him.' By now Solon was almost foaming at the mouth with rage. 'May her stinking bones rot. I'll see her die yet, Condo. I'll see that palsied harridan screaming for death before Morbius and I are finished with her!'

  Condo listened unimpressed to this flood of threats. He was a practical man in his simple way, and clearly shouting wouldn't help them. 'What do, Master?' he asked.

  Solon glared at him. 'Do? We must get the Doctor back of course. I could wait a lifetime and not find another head as suitable. Whatever the risk I must get him back. Come, Condo!' He bustled the big man out of the room. Sarah waited a moment, crept from her hiding place and followed them. Despite the mystery of the Doctor's disappearance, she was feeling a little.more cheerful. Solon had spoken. of the Doctor being 'rescued'. Surely that meant he must now be in friendly hands? Anything was better than being the captive of this mad head-chopper.

  Sarah crept cautiously down the corridor. Whatever happened, Solon mustn't be allowed to get the Doctor back in. his power.

  The Doctor awoke to see a wrinkled old face hovering above him in misty darkness. Mind still wandering a little he asked vaguely, 'How long have I been ill, nurse?'

  He saw by the frown on the old face that he'd made a wrong guess.

  'I am Maren, leader of the Sisters,' she croaked angrily.

  'Sorry, Matron,' said the Doctor placatingly. He must have got the old soul's rank wrong.

  'My name is Maren. I lead the Sisterhood of the Flame—as you well know.'

  The Doctor shook his head to clear it and looked around him. He was in a rock-walled chamber lit by flaring torches. Their light revealed a set of bronze gates—and the familiar shape of the TARDIS on the other side of the room. The Doctor tried to get up, and realised that he was bound hand and foot, propped up like a Guy Fawkes dummy against the foot of Maren's throne. The wizened, robed face of Maren regarded him malevolently from her throne. Other black-robed figures hovered nearby. The Doctor sighed. 'Things seem to have been happening while I was having my little nap.'

  Impatiently Maren snapped, 'You feign ignorance, Time Lord?'

  The Doctor smiled. 'Just call me Doctor,' he said modestly. 'I hate all this bowing and scraping.'

  'You wish to confess?'

  'Confess? To what?'

  'That you were sent here by the High Council of the Time Lords.'

  The Doctor smiled. 'Ahl Well, I must confess...'

  'Good!' Maren nodded in satisfaction.

  '... that I don't really know,' concluded the Doctor. 'The calibrators have been on the blink—but on the other hand, the High Council are perfectly capable of interfering with the TARDIS when it suits them.' He nodded towards the TARDIS. 'How did you get the old girl here?'

  Maren smiled triumphantly. 'By the Power of the Flame.'

  'Teleportation? Isn't that rather a waste of psychic energy? Now if you'd get yourself a good fork-lift truck...'

  As usual in a tricky situation, the Doctor was talking nonsense to give himself time to think. But Maren was in no mood for jokes.

  'Doctor, you have but a little time left. Will you waste it in babbling nonsense, or confess your guilt?'

  The Doctor found there was something decidedly sinister in this last remark. 'What do you mean I have "but a little time left"?'

  'Before you die, Doctor.'

  Indignantly the Doctor straightened up. 'Nonsense! I'm only seven hundred and forty-nine. We Time Lords have a saying, life begins at seven hundred and fifty.'

  'You die at sunrise. That is agreed.'

  'Not by me, it isn't. I haven't even been asked.'

  Maren hissed in irritation. Was there no way to make this Time Lord accept the gravity of his situation. To jest in the face of death was an offence against the dignity of the Sisterhood. She leaned forward angrily. 'Confess that you were sent here to steal the Elixir of Life and your death will be mercifully swift. Otherwise it will be slow..., very slow.'

  'Look,' said the Doctor patiently. 'I really haven't the slightest notion what this is all about. The last thing I remember was...' He paused, what was the last thing he remembered? 'I was taking a glass of wine with Solon... Then Morbius...'

  'Morbius is dead!' Maren was sitting bolt-upright, her eyes gleaming with anger.

  The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, of course he is. Now, how did I get the impression...'

  'The Time Lords themselves executed Morbius for his crimes—here, on Karn.' Maren spoke vehemently, almost as if trying to convince herself.

  The Doctor remembered something else. 'Solon had a clay model of Morbius's head...' he paused thoughtfully. 'But it was more than that... Solon drugged my wine... Now why, I wonder...' His voice hardened. 'Just for a second, before I passed out, there was a living mental contact. I felt the mind of Morbius!'

  'You lie, Doctor. Morbius is dead!'

  'Yet, on many planets there persists a rumour that Morbius somehow cheated death. His followers still hold secret meetings, convinced that someday Morbius will return to lead them!'

  'He is dead, I tell you.' Maren waved a claw-like hand. 'Tell him, Ohica.'

  Another of the Sisterhood stepped forward. 'Morbius was executed, for leading the rebellion, and for many of his other crimes. His body was placed in a disposal chamber and scattered to the four winds of the universe.' She spoke in a kind of ritual chant, as if repeating words that had been used so often they must be true. Obstinately the Doctor shook his head. 'I know all that. But I tell you, Maren... Just for a second, as consciousness slipped away, the mind of
Morbius touched mine. I felt his blazing hatred and anguish, the burning passion for revenge. Morbius is alive.'

  The Doctor's words seemed to cast a chill of fear over the Inner Sanctum. Then Maren rallied. 'No doubt you think that raising these old fears will somehow aid you. But I was present at his execution. I saw him perish. Morbius is dead, Doctor... and soon you too will die!'

  On a mountain path, high outside the entrance to the caves, Solon and Condo crouched behind a massive boulder. They were watching one of the Sisters carry a huge bundle of faggots into the cave. Condo reached for his scimitar. 'Condo go down, kill?'

  Solon struck his hand aside. 'Oaf! The last thing I want now is trouble with the Sisters.'

  'Not kill Sisters, Master? Then how we get Doctor?'

  'We wait. He's bound to come out sometime. We wait, we follow, and then when he's alone...' Solon tapped Condo's arm. 'But not until then, you understand? And I need him alive, so I can remove his head under proper conditions.'

  'Yes, Master...' Condo tensed, looking round keenly.

  'What is it? What do you hear?'

  'Condo hear someone move!'

  In the rocks above them, Sarah crouched motionless, hardly daring to breathe. Under cover of the darkness, she'd successfully trailed Solon and his servant without being spotted. Then, just at this last moment, she'd dislodged a tiny piece of rock with her foot, and it had rattled down the slope. The keen senses of the barbarian had picked up the tiny sound.

  Solon listened a moment longer, then slugged impatiently. 'I hear nothing—look, Condo!' He pointed to the path below. Two more Sisters were struggling along it, each carrying a heavy bundle of faggots.

  Condo frowned in puzzlement. 'Why. Sisters take so much wood into Temple?'

  'I was wondering the same thing...' Solon stared thoughtfully at the entrance to the cave.

  Inside the Temple, the preparations were now complete. Ohica moved across to Maren, and bowed before her. 'All is ready, High One.'

  Maren looked upwards. A tiny chink of light had appeared in the cavern roof high above them. 'The sun appears, Doctor. I offer you this one last chance to confess your guilt.' She produced a tiny phial from beneath her robes. 'This powder could spare you from the anger of the flame. Without it, you will die in torment. Confess!'

  The Doctor sighed wearily. 'You're convinced of my guilt whatever I say. Why do you need a confession?'

  'So that the Time Lords cannot deny that they have plotted against the Sisterhood.'

  'Plotted against you? You've got it all wrong, Maren. The Time Lords have extended their protection to your Sisterhood for years. When Morbius attacked this planet, who was it who saved you?'

  For a moment Maren was silent. Then with bitter obstinacy she said, 'They acted from self-interest—as you do now.'

  The Doctor shook his head pityingly. 'I'm afraid you're confused. Still, I suppose at your age...'

  Ohica came to the defence of her High Priestess. 'The Time Lords feared Morbius, just as we did. And they depended on the Elixir of Life for their survival. Now the Elixir no longer forms, you and your fellow Time Lords want to steal the little that remains.'

  'What do you mean—the Elixir no longer forms?' snapped the Doctor.

  'The Sacred Flame dies—as well you know.'

  'Rubbish,' said the Doctor vigorously. 'How can it die? That flame is a product of gases forcing their way up along a geological fault, right from the heart of the planet. It will burn for millions of years.'

  Maren interrupted him. 'I tell you, it dies!'

  The Doctor's mind was racing. 'Perhaps there's been some subterranean movement. That could account for it. Tell me, have you noticed any recent earth tremors?'

  No one was interested in the Doctor's theories. A gong rang out, and a low chanting went up from the Sisters. A beam of Iight shafted down from the chink high in the roof.

  Ohica bowed low. 'It is time for the sacrifice, High One.'

  Maren raised a withered hand. 'Take him. The Flame must be fed!'

  Black-robed figures congregated around the Doctor, half carrying, half dragging him across the Temple. They took him to an area on the far side of the chamber, where there stood an upright pillar of stone, its sides sinisterly blackened. Faggots of wood were piled high around the pillar. The effect was that of one of Earth's November Fifth bonfires—and the Doctor was to be the Guy! He was thrust against the stone pillar and lashed to it. More sisters appeared, all bearing flaming torches. Desperately the Doctor yelled, 'Wait, Maren!'

  The High Priestess hobbled across the Temple to stand before him. 'You had the chance of mercy, Doctor, and you refused it.'

  'But this trouble you've been having could explain why I'm here. You may need scientific advice.'

  The sound of the chanting drowned his voice. A Sister handed Maren a blazing torch, and she and the other Sisters began circling the Doctor's pyre in a kind of ritual dance.

  The Doctor struggled frantically, but the cords were too strong. The dancing and chanting went on, and he wondered how much time he had left. He shouted again. 'This could be a grave mistake, Maren. If those gases have been sealed off, this whole mountain could go up... Remember Popacatepetl!'

  The dance went on, and the flaming torches came ever closer to the wood piled at the Doctor's feet. He wondered what would determine the final moment. Then he noticed the beam of sunlight. As the sun rose higher and higher, the shaft of light moved across the sanctum floor, coming nearer and nearer to the pile of faggots. The symbolism was clear. At the moment when the sunlight reached the pillar, the Sisters would thrust their flaming brands into the pyre, and the wood round the Doctor's feet would burst into roaring flame.

  Struggling wildly against his bonds, the Doctor watched the beam of sunlight move slowly across the floor...

  5

  Sarah to the Rescue

  The weird chanting of the Sisters drifted faintly out of the cave mouth and across the mountainside. Solon gripped Condo's arm. 'That's the death song. The Song of Sacrifice!'

  Condo looked baffled. 'They're making a Sacrifice to the Flame,' explained Solon impatiently. 'I have to see what's happening. We must get closer.'

  Condo hung back. 'No, Master. Temple bad place. Evil spirits.'

  Solon wasn't listening. 'A sacrifice to the Flame,' he muttered. 'They never offer one of their own. Always a stranger, an outsider. I have to see...'

  Solon began creeping towards the cave mouth. Condo hesitated, but his fear of Solon was even greater than his fear of the Sisters, and reluctantly he followed.

  Sarah saw them go, from her hiding-place higher in the rocks. She watched them disappear inside the cave mouth. A moment or two later she climbed down the rocks and followed them inside.

  Unaware of these new additions to the audience, the Doctor watched the torch-waving dancers move ever closer. The beam of sunlight was closer too, and clearly it would be only minutes before blazing torches were thrust into the piles of wood all round him. The dancers' eyes were glazed and they moved in a kind of self-induced trance. The Doctor realised it would be useless to try to reach them with appeals to reason. Grimly he went on struggling with his bonds, but the twine was strong and the knots held firm.

  The ray of sunlight touched the bonfire. Maren stretched out her blazing torch, and the other Sisters did the same. The wooden faggots were already beginning to smoulder—when a shout of 'No!' rang loudly through the cavern.

  The chanting stopped. The Sisters froze, like figures in some old painting. Maren turned slowly—to see Solon standing in the arched doorway, Condo looming behind him. 'No!' repeated Solon. 'You've got to stop!'

  Maren hobbled slowly towards him. Her voice was icy cold as the snow on Karn's high mountains. 'What is the meaning of this?'

  Solon shrank back. She was only a wizened old woman in a shabby black robe, but the force of her anger struck him like the heat of a furnace. He waved his hands in a clumsy gesture of apology. 'I am sorry, High One, deeply sorry.'r />
  The terrible old voice said, 'It is death for outsiders to enter the Temple.'

  The wailing voices of the Sisters took up the word. 'Death! Death! Death!' The chanting circle began to move closer to the two intruders. In blind panic, Condo snatched out his sword.

  Maren raised her hind. Light flashed from an ornate ring on her finger, and Condo screamed with pain, dropping the sword and clutching his numbed shoulder. 'Bring them before me,' ordered Maren. The Sisters herded Solon and Condo across the Sanctum, and brought them to Maren where she stood by the Doctor's bound figure.

  Unseen, another figure appeared in the arched doorway—Sarah. Quickly she took in the scene, the bound Doctor, the captive Solon and Condo. She paused for a moment and ran back into the ante-chamber, hunting round desperately. Her luck was in. A curtained alcove held a pile of black ceremonial robes. Sarah began struggling into one with desperate speed.

  Meanwhile Solon stood before Maren, frantically trying to justify his intrusion. He was well aware that he was talking for his life. If the Sisters turned the full force of their psychic powers on him, they could blast the life from his body with their anger. 'Maren, High One,' he faltered. 'Believe me, I meant no harm...'

  'The harm is done. Already the sacrifice is defiled.'

  'Might as well cancel the show then,' suggested a hopeful voice from inside the bonfire. 'Take no notice, Solon, I'm glad to see you! '

  Ohica swung round. 'Be silent!'

  'Didn't think much of the singing either,' continued the Doctor irrepressibly. 'What you. need is a really good contralto.'

  Ohica menaced him with her blazing torch. 'Enough! The High One commands you to silence!' The Doctor decided he'd better shut up, at least for the time being.

  Solon seized his opportunity. 'Maren, I came only to ask a favour of the Sisters. I had no intention of offending—'

  'What favour?'

  Solon spread his hands ingratiatingly. 'In all the years since I came to Karn I have never asked anything of you until now. Indeed, in that time I have often helped you, treated your injuries.'