by Doctor Who
The Doctor skidded to a stop and turned indignantly.
‘Look,
Solomon, I’m not being rude – well, maybe I am – but how about you get your priorities right? I reckon I might be able to help. If it 10
turns out I can’t, you can wave your gun about, chuck me out, all of that. Deal?’ Not waiting for an answer and ignoring the raised gun, the Doctor jogged over to the steel doors gaping open in the rock.
‘Through here, is it?’
Warily, Solomon nodded. ‘All right. But you’re going in ahead of me so I can keep my eye on you. I’ll direct you.’
The doors gave on to an access tunnel. The temperature dropped sharply, which was welcome after the run. The lights were turned almost as low as the jagged roof above them, but slowly Solomon’s eyes adjusted to the crimson glare.
‘Lava tubes!’ the Doctor declared, staring all around as he walked.
‘Molten lava pours down the volcano, the outer layers cool and solidify, but the core stream continues to flow – and evacuates itself completely to leave behind empty tube-ways through the rock.’
‘I did actually know how the tunnels come to be here,’ said Solomon wryly, as they reached the first of the caves. He took two torches from their hooks on the wall and passed one to the Doctor.
‘Blades, helictites. . . Geologist’s dream, this little lot. How far does the network stretch?’
‘Several kilometres, Fynn says.’ As he hurried on through the enormous cavern, Solomon’s shoe squelched in something wet and smelly.
He grimaced and wished for protective clothing. ‘We’ve only cleared a few hundred metres so far. The tubes are very fragile to the east.
We’re trying to shore them up but resources are limited. . . ’
‘What resources? Aha!’ The bats rustled and chittered up above as the Doctor’s exclamation echoed round the cave. ‘I get it. You’re farmers!’
‘This is Agricultural Technology Unit 12.’
‘Farmers farming fungus inside a volcano! Genetically modified, is it, like the crops?’
Solomon grunted, continuing onwards. ‘The world needs food and there’s precious little land left in which to grow it. Global warming, desertification. . . ’
‘So you’re using your “agriculture technology” to grow grub in the less obvious places.’ He considered. ‘Yep, under a volcano, that’s 11
not at all obvious. And if we’re in Chad, we must be walking about underneath Mount Tarsus, right?’
‘You expect me to believe you don’t even know –’
The Doctor skidded to a slithery stop on the slimy walkway. ‘Hang on. Tarsus’s still active, isn’t it?’
Solomon didn’t stop to wait for him. ‘No eruptions for eighty years.’
‘Then aren’t you overdue one?’
‘How’d you think the agri-board beat them down on the land price?’
Solomon muttered. ‘Come on. It’s just through there.’
He gestured with the gun along the passage that led to the freshly excavated growth chamber. The Doctor rounded a turn in the passage
– and came to a sharp halt.
‘No tricks,’ warned Solomon.
‘Tell him that,’ said the Doctor quietly, moving aside so Solomon could come forwards.
He stared in disbelief, as if what he was seeing could be a trick of the red torchlight. Standing in front of the entrance, arms wide open, was what looked to be a golden statue. A statue of a man. The features were twisted and warped, but it was clearly-
‘Kanjuchi,’ Solomon whispered, feeling his stomach twist.
He
started forwards, but the Doctor took hold of his shoulder, held him back.
‘No. Don’t touch him.’
‘But he’s been hurt!’
‘I’ll examine him. I’m the Doctor, remember?’ He advanced warily on the statue. ‘Though even from this distance, I’d say he was dead.’
Solomon felt his legs sag beneath him, leaned against the rough basalt wall and tried not to be sick. ‘Who would want to. . . ’ He shook his head. ‘It’s like he’s been painted all over. Is that what killed him?’
‘Like in James Bond, you mean? Goldfinger, that was the one.’ He beamed over at Solomon. ‘Who’s playing Bond these days? Cal Mac-Nannovitch was my favourite – it’s always the one you grow up with, isn’t it?’ The Doctor’s smile dropped. ‘But no. Urban myth. People don’t suffocate when you paint their skin. Something else killed this man.’ He gingerly tapped Kanjuchi on the arm and a dull clang rang 12
briefly round the tunnel. This stuff is way heavier than paint. It’s holding him upright. And it’s still warm. Suggests some sort of physical reaction is continuing.’ He whipped out a pair of chunky spectacles from his pocket and hooked them on to his sharp, straight nose, then peered into Kanjuchi’s open mouth. The stuff’s in here too. Coating his tongue, the inside of his mouth, back of the throat. . . ’
Solomon hardly knew what to say. ‘How?’ he croaked.
‘Dunno, I’ll have to take samples, run a full chemical analysis. . . ’
He straightened, looking at Solomon. ‘Here’s a funny thing, though.
Didn’t Adiel say she left him inside the chamber?’
‘He. . . he must have struggled out.’
‘I suppose he must have. But look at him.’ The Doctor put away his glasses. ‘Doesn’t look like he was frozen mid-struggle, does he? He squeezed through that narrow exit and planted himself right in front of it – feet firm together, arms wide apart.’
Trying to keep whatever did this to him in there,’ Solomon reasoned. ‘It must still be inside.’
‘Yeah, he does look like he’s standing guard, doesn’t he?’ The Doctor’s face was pensive. ‘I think we should have a quiet word with Adiel, find out exactly what happened in there.’
‘Poor girl’s only just back from holiday. She’ll need another one to get over this.’ Solomon rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I must tell Fynn.’
‘Who’s this Fynn again?’
‘Director of Development, in charge here. He’ll contact Law En-forcement.’
‘Oh, blimey. That’s all we need. A band of butch soldiers with big guns and closed minds.’
They’ll find who did this,’ Solomon murmured, but he was talking to himself more than the Doctor.
‘Who? What d’you mean, “who”? You heard Adiel, some gold stuff ate him!’ The Doctor frowned, lost in thought. ‘Suppose I’d better have a word with him.’
‘Who?’
13
‘Your man Fynn, of course! Come on. D’you want to lead the way?
No, tell you what, I’ll go first again, shall I? You can keep pointing the gun at me. It might help you believe you’ve got some power over the situation. . . ’
The Doctor stalked away and was soon lost in the crimson shadows of the winding tunnel. Solomon followed, aware of the sightless, glittering eyes of Kanjuchi on his back. Trying not to imagine the last things they had seen.
14
Rose had held Adiel’s hand while Basel directed a couple of skinny farmhands to check out the crop fields, then he’d taken over and led them both into an empty common room. There was a TV screen no thicker than a fiver on one of the taupe walls, a shabby pool table, a tank of tropical fish and various bits of furniture that had seen better days. But at least the place was air-conditioned – a big relief after the stifling heat outside.
Adiel sat rigid on one of the threadbare sofas, staring into space; she looked an even bigger state than her stained overalls. Basel had prised the tricorder thing from her hands and now she fumbled idly with the beads on her necklace, which sparkled in the dusty sunlight coming through the large windows. Basel poured her a drink from the fridge. It smelt fruity and fresh, wonderful. Then he added a tablet, which fizzed the concoction up.
‘Passive-pill,’ he announced, chucking his hat on a chair. Rose saw that cool tribal designs had been razored into his hair. ‘Shou
ld help her calm down.’
‘Hope your friend’s all right,’ she said.
He grunted.
‘What did he do?’
15
‘Agri-technician, like Adiel – part of Fynn’s Food Squad.’
‘Are you an agri-technician too?’
‘Me?’ He spared her a brief smile. ‘I’m a crop inspector. I report to Solomon.’
‘You inspect them, he oversees them, right?’ She did her best to seem impressed. ‘So, inspecting crops, that’s got to be. . . um, fun.’
His smile grew a little in size and charm. ‘It stinks.’ He nodded to the fridge. ‘You can grab a drink if you want.’
Her eyes met his. She looked away first, with a smile, and helped herself to a can.
‘You saw the crops and got hungry, sneaked inside,’ Basel ventured, slipping a comforting arm round Adiel’s shoulders. ‘Am I right?’
‘You said it.’ Rose took a big swig of her drink, silently toasting him for inventing her a cover story.
‘Are you refugees, then? From the fighting?’
‘You could say that,’ Rose agreed. ‘Seen a lot of fighting, me and the Doctor.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘Best friend.’
‘How bad is it in Moundou?’
‘Um. . . bad.’ She realised guiltily that her knowledge of Africa was pretty much non-existent. Poverty, war, disease. . . she knew it all went on from the news on TV, but didn’t have a clue about the real issues. ‘It’s, like, really bad. We were glad to get away.’
‘Yeah, the rehousing camps aren’t fun. I do volunteer work at the one in Iniko when I’m off-shift. Hang at the school. . . you know.’
‘Helping the kids and that?’
‘I guess.’ He looked awkward, defensive and proud all at once.
Teachers give me lessons in return, see.’
‘Huh! How ungrateful is that,’ joked Rose – and straight away knew she had put her foot right in it.
Basel’s eyes had hardened. ‘How old d’you think I am?’
‘Twenty, twenty-one? I dunno.’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t know either. Till last year I couldn’t even count that far.’ He turned up his nose. ‘You know other languages and stuff.
16
You learned loads at school, I bet. I don’t even know when I was born.
My dad died in the fighting, century’s end. Mum was sick and never got better. I had to look after my brothers and then. . . ’ He turned back to Adiel, squeezed her shoulders as if she was the one who was hurting. ‘Anyway. Never had much time for schooling. Only work, wherever I could find it.’
Rose rugby-tackled the change of subject. ‘And here you are,’ she said brightly. ‘Nice little farm next to a mountain.’
‘It’s a volcano.’
‘Seriously?’ Rose had never seen a real volcano.
‘And it’s not a nice little farm either.’
So much for saving the conversation. She’d given him the right hump. ‘Well. . . what is this place, then?’
‘Just one more agri-unit sucking the land dry. Africa has debts it can never payoff, see? It rents out land to Europe and America for a handful of bucks so they can feed their people – while our own go on starving.’
Rose shifted in her seat uncomfortably. ‘You’re here, though, working for them.’
‘I need money and this is the quickest way to earn it.’ he said, a little more quietly. ‘I’ve got to get out, get myself a proper education, get taken serious. Make people care about what’s happening.’ His arms slipped from round glassy-eyed Adiel as he leaned forwards, warming to his topic. ‘Used to be just cotton and coffee and stuff Africa got ripped off for. Now the big corporations are taking native plants and animals, taking their genes apart, finding cures for diseases and stuff.
They get rich, Westerners get better lives and we get next to nothing.’
‘It’s known as bio-piracy.’
Rose started at the sound of the cool, considered voice, saw a dignified-looking black man in a lab coat standing in the doorway.
It was hard to tell how old he was – late forties maybe? His hair was greying but his skin was smooth and ebony-dark.
‘However, Basel knows that although I direct the scientific research at this unit, I am just as opposed to the trend. I intend that my work will benefit the world, not only a portion of it.’ The man looked at 17
Rose, brown eyes wide and enquiring. ‘My name is Edet Fynn. I wasn’t expecting visitors.’
‘I doubt you were expecting one of your agri-technicians to wind up gold-plated either.’ said the Doctor, charging into the room and making Fynn jump a mile. ‘But these things happen.’
‘He’s the Doctor.’ Rose offered apologetically. ‘I’m Rose.’
‘Here to help, like the Koala Brothers.’ The Doctor forced his bum between Basel and Adiel as he plonked down on the sofa. ‘She talking yet?’
‘I gave her a p-pill,’ said Basel. ‘She’s coming down.’
‘What’s going on?’
Fynn turned in bewilderment to Overseer
Solomon, who had shuffled quietly into the room, still holding his rifle. ‘Where did these visitors come from? I had no –’
‘Kanjuchi is dead, Director,’ Solomon said.
Fynn stared. ‘Dead?’
Basel shook his head. ‘You’re joking.’
‘What happened?’ asked Rose.
‘That’s the 24-carat question.’ The Doctor waved a hand in front of Adiel’s eyes. The girl didn’t respond, her face a blank mask, fingers still turning her beads. ‘Adiel, sweetheart, that’s a lovely necklace.
Where did you get it, hmm?’
Rose frowned, but Adiel actually responded. ‘I made it.’ she whispered.
The Doctor nodded encouragingly. ‘Those stones are lovely.’
‘They are local stones.’
‘Not just stones, though, are they? I reckon they’re tektites. Glassy crystals often formed as the result of a meteor impact. Or something from space anyway.’ The Doctor looked over at Fynn. ‘Got any craters round here?’
‘No.’ Fynn stepped forwards, disbelief boiling over into anger. ‘But apparently I have a member of staff lying dead –’
‘Standing up, actually.’
‘– while you sit there discussing a necklace!’
Rose got up, raising her hands in a ‘whoa there’ gesture. ‘He’s trying to ease her back by talking about normal stuff, yeah?’
18
‘Normal.’ echoed Basel, his head in his hands.
‘Hang on.’ said the Doctor, ‘what am I sitting on?’ He reached behind him and produced the tricorder. ‘Wow! A data-get. . . You still use these!’
Basel snatched it off him. ‘It’s Adiel’s.’
In turn, Fynn took it from Basel. ‘The data on the fungus crop I came for,’ he said distantly, looking at the readout. ‘No, wait. . . This isn’t right. . . ’
‘Kanjuchi thought it was gold.’ said Adiel. Her voice was quiet but it riveted the room. ‘I wanted to prove he was crazy. I did a scan.’
Fynn looked at the Doctor. ‘These readings are gibberish. The data-get’s faulty.’
‘Or else it’s trying to break down chemical elements it’s not programmed to recognise.’ The Doctor half-smiled, but his eyes were dark and serious. ‘Elements that aren’t the product of Earth geology.’
Rose shut her eyes and waited for the inevitable storm of outrage and disbelief. But the room had fallen silent.
When she opened her eyes again she saw why.
A farm worker in dirty denim had pushed into the common room, his skin glistening with sweat. He was holding a golden bundle in his arms.
‘Put it down, Nadif!’ Solomon yelled beside him, as if the bundle was a bomb.
Clearly frightened, the worker obliged. His find hit the ground with a dull clang. Everyone stared – then Rose realised what she was looking at. It was a golden statue of a huge bird
of prey – looked like an eagle in big gleaming knickerbockers.
Fynn stooped to see. ‘Such craftsmanship. It’s a work of art.’
‘That’s a vulture!’ breathed Basel. ‘A solid-gold vulture!’
‘It’s not gold,’ the Doctor told him. ‘And not a statue. That was a real vulture once. A living thing, enveloped in this same augmented magma.’
‘What?’ Fynn looked at him crossly. ‘Augmented by whom?’
‘I found it in the west field,’ said Nadif fearfully. ‘It was trying to fly, but it couldn’t. It turned to. . . to this. Right as I watched.’
19
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded, ‘Anything else?’
‘That isn’t enough?’ Basel wondered.
Fynn cleared his throat. ‘May I remind you, Doctor, that I am the Director here?’
‘Then start directing!’ He pointed down at the vulture. ‘We’ve got to get on top of all this before it gets on top of us.’
Fynn turned to Solomon. ‘All right. Organise your teams to search for any more affected wildlife.’
Solomon nodded gravely and left with Nadif
‘There must be another way into that cave,’ the Doctor reasoned.
‘Somewhere the wildlife’s using.’
‘Impossible,’ said Fynn, looking edgy. ‘The growth chamber has to be secure, no light, no change in temperature. The fungus can only thrive in a specific, controlled environment.’
‘Looks like whatever else has turned up in that chamber’s not so fussy,’ said Rose.
‘There was no daylight visible when Kanjuchi and I were inside,’
Adiel offered.
‘Two options,’ snapped the Doctor, prodding the golden bird with his foot. ‘Either the vulture found a hidden way into that chamber or else this happened to it somewhere else.’
Fynn crossed to the door. ‘We must get over there and see for ourselves.’