by Brian Hayles
But this was more easily said than done. As the doors opened, the devil-wind outside ripped and roared its way into the TARDIS, making it vibrate with its fury: It was all the Doctor and Jo could do to stay on their feet.
Opening the doors had been easy. Getting to them and outside was altogether more difficult. But as the Doctor slowly fought against the swirling wind that now drove into the TARDIS, his movement towards the door seemed to steady the tilting balance of the craft. Until he stepped outside, that is. Then his weight - the prime balancing factor against the desperate tilt of the floor - was removed, and the TARDIS leaned even more alarmingly. Jo, her evening cloak fluttering and flapping about her, could only cling to the control panel helplessly.
"Doctor!" she cried plaintively, "where are we?"
Outside, the Doctor was applying all his weight to the lower edge of the TARDIS's doorframe, desperately trying to hold the balance against the shuddering windblast. He took a deep breath, sized up the situation and decided he didn't like it in the least. The ledge on which the TARDIS was resting may well have been a mountain track once - now it was little more than a narrow shelf of crumbling rock. It needed very little more to send the blue box toppling down to the chasm below. There wasn't a moment to lose.
The Doctor spoke calmly, but with a deliberate authority that Jo knew better than to question. "We've got ourselves halfway up a mountain, Jo ..." he called back into the TARDIS, forced to pitch his voice above the shriek of the wind. "The TARDIS is balanced on the edge of a rock shelf. Just don't sneeze, that's all ... "
Jo could just see the Doctors face, and she answered bravely to his reassuring smile. "What do you want me to do?"
"When I tell you to move, move - but gently. Understand?"
She nodded, and hoped the Doctor couldn't see that she was shivering. She concentrated on what he was saying, and her fear receded a little as she acted out his commands.
"Down on your hands and knees, then ... That's it. Now - move towards me ... slowly."
For a moment as she crouched, Jo could no longer see the Doctor and her heart leaped into her mouth. But she found that her new position took her out of the whiplash of the wind, enabling her to crawl towards the door reasonably easily. Her eyes were fixed on the Doctors hand stretched out towards her. Then, almost within reach, she slipped - and the TARDIS shuddered. In that brief moment of panic, Jo flattened herself against the floor, heart pumping furiously.
"Come on, Jo!" The Doctor's voice, low and urgent, made her look up. His hand was reaching for hers, only inches away - but her panic paralysed her. She couldn't move.
"Very gently, Jo ..." murmured the Doctor, the calmness in his eyes giving her strength. "Give me your right hand... "
Willing herself into motion, Jo reached out. Just as her hand touched the Doctors, the TARDIS moved again. She closed her eyes tight, and gripped hard.
Still his voice was there, calm and clear. "That's it ... now the other hand.. "
Her eyes now fixed on the Doctors face, Jo brought her hand into his confident grasp. For a moment, locked together at arms" length, they breathed and listened tensely to the rumble of disintegrating rock outside.
Then, taking all Jo's weight, the Doctor leaned hard backwards and rapped out the command: "Pull yourself out - now!"
In a flurry of wind-whipped dust and rocks, Jo was outside, falling on top of the Doctor, all of a heap - but safe.
Breathless, she saw the Doctor staring past her. When she turned, the TARDIS was gone. She looked back at the Doctor in dismay. Then, realising that she too could have been swept down to the awful rocks below, she heaved a shuddering sigh of relief. The Doctor gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then moved past her to the rock edge. She crawled up to his shoulder and looked down. Kneeling there together, they watched the tumbling fall of the bizarre blue box as it vanished into the echoing shadows, far beneath them.
Jo gasped with horror. "It'll be smashed to bits!"
The Doctor drew her back from the edge, gently. "No it won"t, Jo," he said patiently. "The TARDIS may have its faults, but it is indestructible ... "
"After a fall like that?" Jo couldn't believe it. "Its hundreds of feet down - you can't even see the bottom!"
"Our real worry, observed the Doctor thoughtfully, "is how to get to it from here ... "
Jo looked from his frowning face to the chasm at their feet. She shivered.
"It's impossible," she said.
A sudden gust of wind ruled the Doctor's hair, and he narrowed his eyes against its sting. "I'm afraid you might be right, Jo ..." he mused.
Jo followed his gaze as he tried to follow the line of the broken path, upwards. As he looked, an even brighter flash of lightning than before lit the crags above them. The Doctors face grew alert, and he pointed upwards, urgently. Jo looked too, but had to wait for the next lightning flash before she could see the grim castle which topped the mountain peak far above.
"I think we'll go and ask for help ." said the Doctor, brightly.
"Up there ?" exclaimed Jo in dismay.
"Somebody must be home," remarked the Doctor drily, "unless you have a better idea?"
"But we don't know who they are," cried Jo, "or even where we are. We could be anywhere!"
The Doctor tested his first foothold. "Exactly!" he declared. "And we won't find out any quicker, hanging about out here in this weather, will we?"
She stared at him aghast, the wind whipping her cloak about her. "You don't mean ... we've got to climb?"
The Doctor smiled at her, reassuringly. "Once we reach a regular pathway, it'll be easier. You'll see, Jo."
She smiled weakly, and tried to put the memory of the falling TARDIS out of her mind. "After this," she shouted above the storm, "Everest will be simple!"
And, boldly, they began to climb.
The tragedy of Torbis" death loomed like a hovering bird of prey over the citadel, but Peladon knew what he had to do. He had made a solemn promise to the old man, and he would keep it. The killing, whatever the real reason behind it, must not be allowed to destroy the dream for which Torbis had fought with such determination. As the body of the Chancellor was being richly prepared for traditional burning, Peladon was sending Hepesh to complete what Torbis had set out to do: summon the latest alien arrival for formal presentation to the king. Hepesh had been almost sullen in his reluctance, but the king had insisted. To stop the process now would be worse than a defeat: it would put back the clock by a hundred years. Torbis had been right - the time was now. On that, Peladon was determined.
"The delegate from Alpha Centauri, Council member of the Galactic Federation, presents himself before you, King Peladon."
The formal words of Hepesh's announcement failed to hide the unease he felt at the alien being which was standing by his side. Tall as a man, but single-footed like a sea anemone, its iridescent turquoise body was discreetly covered by a cloak emblazoned with its Galactic rank. From beneath the cloak rippled six tenuously graceful tentacles. The whole was surmounted by an octopod head containing one huge yet strangely beautiful eye. Due to gravitational differences the body of Alpha Centauri found swift movement difficult, but the tentacles were capable of sensitively mimed expression. They rippled politely as Peladon spoke. "Peladon welcomes the delegate from Alpha Centauri ... "
The young king's face was grave, betraying no wonder at this, the third of the aliens so far arrived. The others were no less unusual in appearance, but they were intelligent and their mission was sincere. When Alpha Centauri spoke, however, Peladon could barely conceal a smile. For the voice that came from the shimmering hexapod was as shrill and elegant as a nervous lady-in-waiting. In spite of the authority invested in the alien, the effect was almost comical. Even Hepesh raised an eyebrow as he listened to the alien delegates formal response.
"As a member of the Preliminary Assessment Commission, I have great hopes that your planet will be acceptable as a candidate for the Galactic Federation," piped the exquisite vo
ice. "A magnificent future could be yours."
"That is my sincere hope," said Peladon. Then indicating Hepesh, he continued, "Hepesh, my acting Chancellor and High Priest, will give you every assistance in your mission."
The six tentacles indicated their acknowledgement. Hepesh tried not to flinch from their moist and gleaming gesture of friendship.
"We willingly accept the ... hand of friendship," the High Priest said diplomatically. "The glorious future that you speak of will be given consideration."
"You will realise," fluted the hexapod alien, "that there are certain necessary conditions to be met."
"The King's Grand Council will examine your demands," Hepesh said with deliberate coolness.
"My formal coronation will not take place until we have achieved Federation Membership," offered Peladon warmly. "That is the extent of my personal commitment."
"Your majesty is obviously sincere," trilled Alpha Centauri, "and I have little doubt that we shall quickly decide -"
"Unfortunately," interjected Hepesh with cold logic, "our discussions cannot begin until the arrival of the Chairman delegate from Earth."
"He will be here soon, Hepesh. Earth is many light years from us. Is that not so, Alpha Centauri?" said the king.
"Indeed, your majesty," the alien replied, mildly disparaging, " - a remote and unattractive planet, I believe."
"The fact remains," retorted the High Priest, "that the Earth delegate is not here. The omens are not good!"
Peladon could see the anger boiling behind Hepesh's eyes, and sensed the outburst that was to come. He leaned forward, his hand raised in admonishment, but Hepesh was not to be denied. "Your majesty ignored my warning before," insisted the haughty priest, "and now Torbis your respected Chancellor lies dead ... slain by the wrath of Aggedor!"
"Hepesh! Enough!" snapped the king, and the High Priest fell silent. But his words had had effect. Alpha Centauri's tentacles rippled uneasily, their colours changing to a milky blue in sure indication of alarm.
"You speak of death ... Is there danger here?" queried Alpha Centauri. "Such a state of affairs is not acceptable to the Commission!"
"It is an internal matter," Peladon replied soothingly. "There is no reason for the delegates to be troubled."
"But your Chancellor has been killed ...?" insisted the hexapod nervously. "An atmosphere of violence is not suitable for a balanced assessment!"
"The circumstances were ... mysterious - but the truth will be brought to light," assured the young ruler. "I assure you that there is no danger to you or to your fellow delegates. The Commission can continue with perfect safety."
The tentacles became less agitated, and their colour became almost normal once more. Alpha's voice too, dropped to a less hysterical pitch as the king anxiously awaited the reply.
"Naturally," murmured the hexapod, "I accept your majesty's assurances ... "
"Do not condemn us for being ruled by our ancestors," begged the king. "We have many primitive traditions that must seem strange to you ... but we are willing to learn."
With a small gesture, Peladon indicated that the audience was at an end. Hepesh bowed and moved towards the throne room doors.
"Chancellor Hepesh will escort you to the delegates meeting chamber," the king said, quietly dismissive, and settled back on to the throne. Alpha Centauri turned gracefully and followed Hepesh out. But Peladon's eyes, as he watched them go, were dark and deeply troubled ...
The path leading up the mountainside was growing increasingly steeper. Negotiating the narrow, boulder-strewn way was made no easier by the cutting, swirling wind, and Jo was desperately tired. The Doctor seemed to have limitless energy, and frequently half-carried Jo over the more impassable sections - but they seemed nowhere near to reaching the mighty castle set high above them. Coming to a wider, scrub-covered ledge, Jo leaned against the rock face in an attempt to escape the wind and get her breath back. Seeing her tired face, the Doctor came back to her, and shielded her, sympathetically. Her hair, wisping into a wild parody of the elegant style Jo had set it in for her dinner date, added to the strain in her face. She looked upwards, past the Doctor, then back into his face and shook her head.
"It's no use, Doctor. I can't go any further. I just can"t."
The Doctor tried to coax her gently into continuing. He knew the dangers of exposure on a mountainside in weather like this. "I know its tough, Jo ... but you're doing fine."
"I've nearly broken my neck getting this far!" she complained miserably, and she slumped back against the rock face, near to tears. But the Doctor's determined face showed he would make no concessions and his voice was equally purposeful.
"Well, we can't go back. And we can't very well stay here all night, can we? We'll take a breather and press on."
The breather was only a short one; but it gave Jo enough time to pull herself together and make a further effort. By the time she was ready to go on, the Doctor had scouted their situation and come up with a plan.
"The path has crumbled away further up - we'll have to traverse along this ledge and find another way, that's all," he decided. "I'll take a look on this side. Stay here, Jo, will you?"
Jo was only too happy to rest for a moment longer, and tucked herself into a corner of the rock which was partly protected by a dense patch of scrub. When the Doctor returned she was nowhere to be seen. His features tightened in alarm. What had happened?
"Jo!" He shouted against the howl of the wind. "Where are you? Jo!" He glanced at the edge of the rock shelf, and for a sickening moment wondered if Jo had been swept over into the chasm far below - then the sound of her voice made him turn with relief to the rock face behind him.
"Over here, Doctor!" came Jo's excited voice. At first, he couldn't see any sign of her. Then, from the side of the clump of scrub, her tousled head looked out at him, bright-eyed and smiling.
"It's a tunnel - behind this bush," she cried. "Come and see."
As soon as he was inside the entrance of the tunnel, the Doctor knew it was out of the ordinary. For one thing, it should've been in total darkness - but it wasn"t. Jo was much too pleased to be out of the wind that still howled outside - though it was barely audible now.
"I just fell into it!" she bubbled excitedly. "Isn't it super?"
The Doctor didn't answer immediately. He was examining a broad vein of phosphorescent rock. It was giving off enough light to disperse all but the blackest shadows. Jo, watching him, suddenly realised that the tunnel was not merely a sanctuary against the wind - it was man-made, and it had to lead somewhere.
"Doctor ... " she ventured, "I don't like it."
The Doctor was already tracing the line of faint light farther down the tunnel. Jo followed him, hastily.
"Fascinating ..." he murmured, then paused and pointed out to Jo that the walls were only partially natural.
"I know," she said, "I can see. But who did it?"
"Carved out of the living rock," mused the Doctor. "Clumsy, but effective. And this band of phosphorescent strata ... That's ingenious!"
"It's also very peculiar," muttered Jo, keeping close. to the Doctor's shoulder. "Have you even seen anything like it before?"
"Can't say that I have, Jo... no.."
"And that storm outside - didn't you notice anything odd about that, too?" asked Jo, urgently.
"In what way?" muttered the Doctor casually, his mind more taken by the quality of the rock formation.
"Well ... all that sheet lightning and thunder and wind - but no rain?"
"And what," queried the Doctor, "do you deduce from that?"
"Nothing," said Jo, trying to sound casual. "Its just that I wonder if were still on Earth. That's all."
The Doctor stopped examining the rock, and turned to look gravely into Jo's wide-eyed face. He didn't smile.
"As a matter of fact, Jo, you may be quite right." He turned his head to look along the dimly lit tunnel which wound its way deeper into the mountain. "I think we'd better try and find out, don
't you?"
The delegates" conference room was, like the rest of the mighty castle, walled with faced stone. In spite of its rugged quality it was luxurious by Pel standards. Four alcoves contained iron-hinged wooden doors leading to the living quarters reserved for each alien. The walls between these alcoves were hung with richly woven tapestries bearing the Royal Arms. In the lower quartering of each tapestry featured in gold, was a stark representation of Aggedor, the Royal Beast. Wall torches lit the room cheerfully, and another, smaller alcove contained the statue of a huntsman, cast in a metal like bronze. Alpha Centauri was used to more elegant and sophisticated surroundings. His sensory system flinched slightly at the primitive impact made by the chamber. Politeness however prevented his commenting on the barbarism of the style and content of Peladon's hospitality. "Very suitable," piped the iridescent hexapod rippling his tentacles in appreciation.
"Our ways are different from yours, naturally," murmured Hepesh, assuming correctly that Alpha Centauri was used to something better. "If there is anything further that you wish ... "
"A question," fluted the hexapod, its solitary eye confronting Hepesh at uncomfortably close range. "Why was your Chancellor destroyed?"
"That is for the king to explain," replied the High Priest evasively, then quickly changed the subject. "This chamber is for delegate meetings. Your personal living quarters are here." He opened one of the alcove doors. The hexapod looked inside, mentally flinched at the harshness of the decoration, and turned back to Hepesh to make a suitably bland comment. Before he could do so, a flat metallic voice cut across the room.
"Greetings. I am the delegate from Arcturus. Who are you?"
Alpha Centauri had never before met an Arcturian face to face, and what he now witnessed made his sensors tingle with curiosity and apprehension. At first glance he saw a tinted but transparent globe of fluid, mounted on a compact and elaborate traction unit, the whole strongly resembling a robot rather than an alien life-form. But closer examination showed that within the fluid floated a delicate, mufti-strand organism, and that at its centre was lodged the vital neuro-complex that governed its actions. Alpha Centauri's admiration for the design and elegant complexity of the life-support unit mingled with an indescribable feeling of unease. Something told him that Arcturus was dangerous. It would pay to take care.