Doctor Who - [061] - The Curse of Peladon

by Brian Hayles

"You left the meeting in anger," observed the warlord.

  "There wasn't much else I could do, once you lot had ganged up on the Doctor!" retorted Jo.

  "Your assumption is incorrect, Princess. We have not, as you call it, ganged up. Each delegate has his own position to justify. A free discussion is inevitable."

  "I know, I was there," observed Jo caustically. "It was a matter of who was going to run away first, wasn't it?"

  "Arcturus is a coward by logic," explained the Martian, "and Alpha Centauri is a coward by instinct. Nevertheless, they will not leave the Doctor stranded."

  Jo looked at the proud Martian with surprise, and a small spark of hope brightened her face. "Why the sudden change of heart?" she asked.

  Izlyr turned his mask-like face to her. It betrayed no emotion, but for some reason Jo felt that the Ice Warrior was undeniably pleased with himself.

  "The emergency law that Arcturus was so quick to quote can only operate under unanimous decision. I voted to stay."

  Jo couldn't hide her amazement. "What!" Her mind raced. Was one of the Doctor's most feared enemies going to defend him?

  "When the statue of the Royal Beast was made to fall," explained Izlyr, "the Doctor saved my life. Now, I intend to save his."

  "Izlyr - that's wonderful!" shouted Jo, then stopped, frowning. "But ... how?"

  The conversation that followed would not normally be heard, outside a room such as Jo's. Thick-walled, and with a massive wooden door, the rooms acoustics would not carry Jo's light voice and Izlyr's hoarse whisper to the casual eavesdropper. But where the human ear is a fallible instrument, the highly refined aural sensors that had been developed on Arcturus for its delegate's information processes, were infinitely more effective. The monitoring input mike that Arcturus had placed against the outside of Jo's door picked up and relayed every movement, every breath, every word that was spoken within. The information so obtained, fed into the micro-computerised decision-making centre of the neuroplasm, was processed instantaneously and a plan formed ...

  "We have already been to the Doctor's room to acquaint him with our decision," hissed the Martian warlord; "but when we arrived, his door was open and he was not there."

  "The Doctor's escaped!" cried Jo.

  "It would seem to be so," whispered Izlyr. "The map he left behind indicates that he has gone to ground in the secret tunnels beneath the citadel."

  "Of course!" exclaimed Jo," and I bet I know just where, too!"

  "That is what I hoped. You must go to him, and bring him to the throne room to face the king. Peladon must be made to understand the truth!"

  Jo wasn't so sure. "But why not let him escape?"

  "By escaping, he will appear to be a common criminal," hissed Izlyr. "By throwing himself on the King's mercy plus the case that I will put forward for the Federation the king will act accordingly."

  "To tell the truth, "wondered Jo, "I wouldn't have been surprised if that's what's in his mind, too..."

  "Then go to him, Princess," insisted Izlyr. "He will listen to you."

  As Jo nodded, he gestured to Ssorg, who stepped forward and presented her with the map. "Here is the map that will lead you to him. We will meet you in the throne room. But do not delay."

  By the time they left Jo's room, Arcturus was nowhere to be seen.

  The secret door leading to the castle corridor closed behind him, and the Doctor found himself once more beneath the castle stones. He smiled: the place was becoming quite familiar! He quickly followed the line of wall torches to the limit of their run, then paused. By a simple trick of concentration, he visualised the map in minute detail. Yes, it was the next turning on the left. He moved on, confidently picking up the dim glow of the phosphor streak, and soon his eyes became accustomed to the dim but constant light. Before long, he had come to the point where, according to Hepesh's map, the TARDIS should be. It wasn't there. The Doctor smiled to himself, grimly. He'd thought as much. Hepesh really was a tricky customer-but things weren't so bad if you were prepared. The Doctor took out the gleaming device that he had made. It'd be just as well to have it ready to hand. He was pleased to find that it not only picked up the phosphor glow, but magnified it to an unusual intensity. Then, tightening his grip upon it for reassurance, he strode on.

  The message had reached Hepesh in the temple, and he frowned. A change of plan at this late stage was dangerous - the trap the Doctor had entered so willingly was deadly enough. And even if he had the luck to return alive, who would believe him? But the message was clear - the Doctor was to be hunted, his escape officially made known and, when he was discovered, it would be as Torbis had been found: dead.

  Hepesh called the guard captain to him, and gave the necessary commands. "Take your men and search all the known tunnels and catacombs beneath the citadel. The alien is armed and dangerous, and will neither expect nor grant mercy. You will bring back his corpse as proof."

  The captain nodded and knelt for blessing beneath Hepesh's ringed hand.

  "Aggedor go with you!" said Hepesh.

  The hunt was on.

  The ringing howl that came from the shadows ahead made the Doctor pause in his stride-but it confirmed his theory about Hepesh. It wasn't the TARDIS that was to be his meeting place with Jo. It had been an obvious and simple trap. The map had been deliberately drawn to lead him straight to Aggedor, the Royal Beast. That dreadful cry roared forth again, terrifying in its resonance through the confines of the gloomy tunnel. Yes, thought the Doctor, this was to be the moment of truth. Well, so be it. Then, as the great shaggy bulk of the Royal Beast moved forward out of the shadows that had kept its full horror from the Doctor's sight, it roared again. Raising the spinning mirror of the device that was his only defence, the Doctor spoke with quiet intensity.

  "So there you are, old chap. I rather thought I'd be meeting up with you..."

  Trial by Combat

  "Lord Izlyr," whispered the great warrior Ssorg to his master, "there is something unusual about the Doctor's escape."

  "For an Earthling," hissed Izlyr, "the Doctor has a brain of considerable quality." He stopped in his stride, and Ssorg halted also. "Why do you say unusual, Ssorg?"

  "To escape alone is ingenious, but when we found him, there were no guards."

  Izlyr considered this: Ssorg was right. In their haste to explain the situation to the Earth Princess, the point had escaped his attention. What was the explanation? "Perhaps the guard left his post to follow the Doctor, suggested Izlyr. "It would be his duty to recapture the prisoner."

  "But no alarm has been raised, Lord Izlyr," discreetly pointed out Ssorg. "Why should that be? He has been allowed to escape! There can only be one purpose in such a plan."

  "To kill him," agreed Ssorg, dispassionately. "But what about the princess? She has gone to find him in the palace catacombs. She, too, will be in danger."

  "But she has the only map!" said Izlyr. "We cannot hope to find her without help." He made his decision in an instant. "We will demand help from Peladon and Hepesh. If they refuse, they will have much to answer for!"

  Aggedor was still. The eyes that had glared so murderously at the Doctor were glued to the mirror of the Doctor's device which was spinning a rhythmic pattern of reflected light across the monsters tusked face. The Doctor's droning voice added to the hypnotic effect of the whirling disc, as it murmured strange, simple words to an irresistible tune. The Doctor stopped chanting, but let the spinning mirror continue to flash its pattern of reflected phosphor light into the creature's eyes, now languid in relaxation. "Well, Aggedor old chap," chuckled the Doctor, "You seem to be very partial to Venusian lullabies, don't you?"

  As though in reply, the normally fearsome monster growled, but with pleasure, like a contented cat. It was crouched on all fours, its great, powerful bulk completely relaxed. The mirror disc still holding its attention, the Doctor moved gently closer. His movements were almost imperceptible, but at last he was close enough to fondle the ears and forehead of the mighty beast. The li
ght, though dim, was bright enough for the Doctor to see the details of the terrifying head: the matted hair, the nose tusk, white and gleaming, and the glistening fangs set into the huge, cruel jaws. The great beast, delighting in the light and the soothing fingers scratching its head, stretched slowly; and from the corner of his eye, the Doctor caught sight of the fearsome claws that had struck down the frail figure of Torbis. Distracted for a moment, he lowered the mirror-and immediately Aggedor roared with irritation. The Doctor hastily set the disc in speedier motion, letting the miniature strobe effect fall across the creatures eye line; then sighed in relief as its anger subsided once again. He cleared his throat, nervously, and chuckled.

  "I think we'd better have another chorus, don't you?" he murmured. "Best not get too friendly, had I? Not until you're properly under, that is..." And he started his soothing chant once more.

  The terrifying roar had made Jo freeze in her tracks. Aggedor! But if Aggedor was up ahead, thought Jo, so was the Doctor. And if he was in trouble, now was not the time to desert him. Gathering up all her courage, she ran forward into the half-darkness. Turning a bend in the tunnel, she stopped again, and barely stifled a scream - the Doctor seemed to be lying between Aggedor's outstretched paws! Whatever weapon it was that the Doctor was wielding, it looked so puny as to be useless for dealing with the animal which was slavering over him! Added to which, the Doctor was giving out a low and painful moaning sound, as though in agony from a terrible wound. Without a weapon of her own, there was little she could do - but at least she had the advantage of surprise. With a great, brave cry, she charged to the Doctor's rescue.

  "Its alright, Doctor - I'm coming - I'll save you!"

  "Jo! No! Keep back!" the Doctor shouted-but it was too late.

  Aggedor, startled from his semi-daze by Jo's frightening shouts and screams, lumbered to his feet and lurched away into the darkness of the lower tunnels. Jo, uncomprehending, clutched the Doctor - and was rather put out when he pushed her irritably away.

  "Jo, you idiot! Just when I'd started to get through to him!"

  Jo stood gaping at the Doctor. What he'd just said didn't make sense. Perhaps he was in a bad state of shock.

  "What? What are you talking about?"

  The Doctor held up the mirror device and, with a flick of his fingers, set it spinning.

  "I'm talking about Aggedor - and this," he snapped. "It's a form of technical hypnosis."

  "You don't mean ... you were actually talking to it?"

  "Not talking, Jo, but a form of communication, nevertheless: empathy."

  "Empathy," Jo repeated, in a strangely dull voice.

  "Yes, its a variation on animal telepathy." He stopped, and realised that Jo, too, had succumbed to the spell of the spinning disc. Her eyes were wide open, but she could obviously see nothing. Her mouth was fixed in a vaguely pleasurable smile. At the sharp click of the Doctor's fingers, and his word of command, she blinked back into a dazed consciousness.

  "Jo? Jo! Oh, good grief, wake up!"

  Jo looked up at the Doctor. She didn't understand. "Doctor ... what happened?"

  "You've just ruined a very promising experiment," he replied dryly, "that's what happened!"

  "I'm sorry," said Jo angrily. "I was only trying to help you! I thought you were going to be killed!"

  "And very brave you were too, Jo," the Doctor replied with a smile. "But my meeting with our friend Aggedor wasn't entirely wasted. Come on - lets go and find King Peladon. There are one or two things I think he ought to know... "

  Izlyr, backed by Ssorg, was being unusually abrupt with the king. Peladon seemed confused by the events that Izlyr described. Hepesh remained cool and said little. The warlord sensed a hint of desperation in the King's voice.

  "But if the Doctor isn't in his room," queried Peladon, "where is he?"

  "In the tunnels beneath the citadel," insisted the Martian. "But I believe his journey was a trap!"

  "Tunnels?" remarked Hepesh in disbelief. "There are no tunnels."

  "We found a map," hissed the warlord, "with secret routes marked to the temple. This will prove the Doctor's story."

  "If such a map exists," remarked the High Priest, "it will prove that he is a spy. I know of no tunnel - but if he had a map his plea of innocence must be false!"

  "Delegate Izlyr," requested the king, "where is this map? Show me."

  "It is in the hands of the Earth Princess, declared the Martian. "She is using it to find the Doctor.

  "They run away like common criminals!" cried Hepesh. "Let both their lives be forfeit. Let them be hunted and destroyed! They do not deserve an honourable death."

  Suddenly a familiar voice rang out.

  "Sorry to disappoint you, Hepesh, but I'm requesting a personal audience with the King."

  "Guards!" shouted the High Priest, with an imperious gesture. "Kill them!"

  Before the guards could raise their swords against Jo or the Doctor, the King spoke out.

  "Wait!" he ordered. "The king commands you to wait!" The guards fell back. Peladon turned his troubled face towards the Doctor.

  "Your majesty," said the Doctor pleasantly, "I bring you a message ... from Aggedor, the Royal Beast."

  Hepesh whirled to confront the king. He pointed a condemning finger at the Doctor. "The alien commits ever greater sacrilege! No one sees Aggedor and lives!"

  "Well, I did," commented the Doctor. "And I must say, I found him very pleasant company - for an animal." He looked about him shrewdly at the consternation caused by this remark, then added. "He didn't even seem to mind when I scratched him behind the ears ... "

  Hepesh was almost beside himself with fury. "The Earthling defiles all that is sacred to us! He must be silenced!"

  "Yes, old chap," remarked the Doctor, "that'd suit you very well, wouldn't it?"

  Izlyr spoke up. "Let us hear what the Doctor has to say, your majesty."

  "No!" cried Hepesh.

  All eyes turned to the throne. "We will hear him, Hepesh."

  The Doctor smiled gratefully, and approached the throne.

  "Thank you, your majesty," he said. "I have seen for myself that Aggedor is no ghost or spirit - but a truly magnificent beast, fit to be called royal. I also know that his power is being used falsely: to destroy any future you may have as a member of the Galactic Federation!"

  "You lie!" exclaimed Hepesh. "His manifestation is holy, and he will take a terrible revenge!"

  "Rubbish," clipped the Doctor. "That manifestation, as you call it, is solid, hairy fact!"

  "It's true!" protested Jo. "It isn't a ghost - I've seen it, too."

  "Then produce this creature!" sneered the High Priest.

  "We can, if his majesty will permit it," said the Doctor confidently. "Aggedor lives in the tunnels beneath this palace . . "

  The king looked doubtful. "You spoke of tunnels before, Doctor. They are a mystery to me ... and to Hepesh."

  "That's what he says," commented Jo.

  "Hepesh gave me a map, your majesty," the Doctor said, "showing not only the secret entrance to the catacombs, but the route which I took by accident to the temple."

  "I gave this alien no map," denied the High Priest vehemently. But his eyes were afraid.

  The Doctor turned to Jo, and held out his hand. "Where is it, Jo? Lets show his majesty the directions for my escape - in Hepesh's own handwriting."

  Jo looked at him in dismay. Her empty hands showed that she no longer had the precious map.

  "Doctor ... I'm sorry..." she said. "I must've dropped it when I had a go at Aggedor."

  "A search must be organised!" hissed Izlyr.

  "They have nothing!" cried Hepesh. "No proof to substantiate their foul lies! And now they demand time - for what? To postpone the trial by combat! It is another alien trick! Do not listen to them, majesty."

  "Once I've proved that Aggedor is alive, the trial by combat won't be necessary," retorted the Doctor.

  "Indeed," sneered the jubilant High Priest. "And you
will spend a lifetime looking for these mythical tunnels! No - it is a coward's excuse! Let him be taken to the Pit!"

  "No!" cried Jo, appealing to Peladon, whose face was clouded by a deep sadness.

  "Let him face his challenger!" declared Hepesh fiercely.

  Jo could only beg with her eyes. The King gave her no reason for hope.

  "I am sorry, Doctor," the young king said despondently, "you offer me not proof, but mere words. The combat must go on. Take him away."

  At Izlyr's request, Peladon had allowed Ssorg to accompany the Doctor to the armoury and guardroom to be kitted out for combat. It had seemed a puzzling, even innocent, favour, but Jo was grateful to the Martian for suggesting it. At least it protected the Doctor from any more of the High Priest's deadly tricks. Izlyr had stalked back to the delegates" room, not trying to conceal his cold anger. He had managed to prevent Arcturus and Alpha Centauri from pulling out of the Federation mission, but there was little else he could do by himself. Could he persuade the other two delegates to present Peladon with a firm ultimatum? It seemed most unlikely. Jo, too, had risky plans of her own: she had decided to tackle Grun, the King's Champion, face to face. When she got to his official quarters, she found the room empty and the door unlocked. She was about to turn away when her eye caught the gleam of brightly polished armour, and she looked more closely. There, on a ceremonial stand, was a complete set of superbly worked bronze accoutrements -so magnificent, they had to be the trappings that Grun would be wearing in the coming combat. Set on its stand, the armour matched Grun's size more or less exactly. Jo stood in awe before the empty shell that Grun would soon inhabit. The mask of Aggedor had been moulded in high relief on the great breastplate. It was terrible to behold. Each plate on the loose skirt which girdled the hips bore its own cruel design, as did the shin guards and gauntlets. Towering above the whole was the helmet. Its peaked brow, low over the wearer's eyes and linked with the heavy nose guard and cheek straps, formed a mask more terrifying than that of Aggedor himself. The blood red crest of horsehair that topped the helmet would make Grun seem even more huge than he was already. Jo gulped as she thought of the Doctor confronted by this armoured tank of a man-David and Goliath, and no mistake! A sudden, wordless grunt of anger made her turn. There, standing in the doorway, was Grun.