Doctor Who And The Keys of Marinus

by Philip Hinchcliffe

  Ian sighed. "So we're no better off than when we arrived here.'

  "Do you want me to stay with you?'

  Ian thought quickly, "No, you'd better go after the others. They're probably already worried about you. Tell them what's happened and say I'll follow as soon as I've found the real key.'

  Sabetha nodded, then stepped forward and took hold of his hand.

  "Please... be careful.' She eyed him steadily, her face regal and composed, framed by her long, blonde hair.

  Ian felt the same as he had in the presence of her father. She was letting him know that the fate of her people might rest in his hands.

  "I will,' he replied, solemnly.

  Sabetha gave him a warm smile then twisted her travel dial and vanished.

  Ian returned to the tunnel and pushed through the creepers to the base of the statue. He studied the grotesque sculpture carefully until he found a small ledge behind the right knee. He climbed up into the arms of the statue and pressed the ledge with his foot. The idol revolved slowly through one hundred and eighty degrees.

  Ian found himself looking onto a courtyard, fronting a large decrepit stone mansion. Broken statues and pillars suggested a lost elegance.

  The idol came to rest and released its grip. Ian slid to the ground with relief. Its stony embrace had not been a pleasant experience. He made his way to the centre of the courtyard. The vegetable invasion had continued unabated on this side of the wall. Limbless statues nested forlornly in the foliage, heroic warriors mourning the loss of a sword or head, beautiful maidens eyeing their ruined lovers with stoic equanimity.

  As he skirted a gnarled, fierce warlord, he trod on a loose flagstone. An odd, whirring noise started up. He glanced around but could not locate the source. Then he heard a scream.

  "Ian! Behind you!'

  He turned to see the warrior's massive axe hurtling towards him. He dived out of its path and the enormous blade drove into the earth inches from his ear. He scrambled to his feet, trembling, as Barbara ran out from the cover of a wall.

  "You're not hurt?'

  "Just a bit shaken. If you hadn't shouted I...' He tailed off, looking pale.

  "That doesn't matter now,' gasped Barbara. "Oh, Ian, I've been so frightened. I was waiting another half hour and if you hadn't come, I was going to use the travel dial.'

  "I'm glad you waited. That micro-key you found was a fake.'

  "What?'

  "Yes. The real one must be hidden in here.'

  Barbara gulped. "Then I warn you, it's not going to be easy to find. This whole place is one huge booby trap. It's full of things like that statue. I've hardly dared move for fear of setting one of them off.'

  "Then we'll have to take it very slowly,' said Ian reassuringly. "Over there seems a good place to start.' He indicated a wooden door set in a far wall.

  Testing every step, they threaded their way across the courtyard to the door. They could now see that it led directly into the mansion. The roof had become entirely hidden by trees and creepers.

  "The vegetation is everywhere,' whispered Barbara. "It's almost as if it's trying to get into the house!' She recalled the incident with Susan.

  "Let's find the key and get out of here,' said Ian. He tried the door. It was locked.

  "We'll have to break it down. You stay here, I'll see if I can find some tools.' He set off warily across the courtyard.

  "I saw some iron bars in an alcove by the wall,' Barbara called after him. She turned and re-examined the door. It was not in use. Small lichen and fungi were growing at the sides and a tough sucker-plant had forced its way under the bottom edge. She also noticed a window set high up in the wall. It had been punched in by a branch as wide as a man's leg.

  Barbara turned away from the building and looked for Ian. He had disappeared from sight but she could hear him somewhere in the far corner of the courtyard. A creaking noise behind her made her jump but there was nothing to see. A creeper brushed against her shoulder. The creak occurred again. It came from the door. She gave it a push. This time it swung open. Puzzled, she called for Ian.

  "I'll be right with you,' came his reply.

  Barbara peered inside the doorway. It opened into a large hallway, dark, airless and completely bare. A carpet of spongy green moss covered the floor. The walls were thick with vines. The atmosphere was moist and fetid, like a greenhouse. At the far end was a barred door, scarcely visible in the gloom.

  Intrigued, Barbara took another step. As she did so there was a swishing noise and a large net fell on her from the ceiling. She struggled and flailed like a captured fish but only enmeshed herself more tightly in the strong cords. She stumbled to the floor. The noise of machinery started up. Barbara strained her senses to locate its source. A glint of metal in the half-light above caught her eye. Descending vertically from the ceiling were six steel prongs, each honed to a sharp point. She lay directly in their path.

  6: The Whispering Darkness

  A terrible scream echoed across the courtyard. Ian grabbed an iron bar from the ground and turned to run from the alcove. The bar caught on something. A hidden wire held it to the floor. He gave a fierce tug.

  Instantly an iron grille clanged down over the alcove opening, trapping him inside.

  "Ian!'

  Another bloodchilling scream came from the house.

  Ian scrabbled frantically amongst a pile of rusty garden tools. He found a pick axe. Thrusting it between the bars of the grill he began forcing them apart.

  Barbara tore at the netting in a frenzy. The steel spikes were moving inexorably nearer.

  "Help me! Please!'

  As she writhed helplessly on the floor the far door in the hall opened slightly. A human eye observed her through the crack without emotion.

  Sweating with fear, Ian managed to prise the bars fractionally apart.

  The needle-sharp prongs were no more than a foot from Barbara's prostrate body. Suddenly a pair of battered, leather boots stepped into her line of vision. The noise of the descending steel spikes ceased. The tips were three inchs from her face.

  A querulous voice broke the silence. "Why do you come in search of the key?'

  "Help me,' whispered Barbara, trembling with shock.

  "Who are you? What is your interest in the key?'

  "I can't talk to you like this. Let me go.' The bed of steel spikes prevented her from seeing her interrogator.

  "Are you the Voord?' continued the voice, harsh and sceptical. "You do not resemble their race, and yet...'

  "Arbitan sent us.'

  "That's a lie.'

  "It isn't. He was alone on the island. He couldn't send anyone else.'

  "What proof do you have?'

  "I don't know. What's happened to Ian? What have you done to him?'

  There was a pause.

  "How can you prove Arbitan sent you?'

  "The travel dial. On my wrist.' Barbara held out her arm.

  The stranger knelt down to unclip the dial and Barbara caught sight of his face. He was old and wrinkled with a thin grey beard. She noticed with surprise he wore a hooded robe like Arbitan's.

  "I shall examine this,' be said. "If it is assembled properly with the correct journey programme I shall know you speak the truth. Only Arbitan could have set your complete journey.' He turned on his heel and disappeared through the far doorway.

  "What have you done to Ian?' Barbara called after him - but the door was slammed shut.

  Ian wrenched at the bars with all his strength, bending them an inch at a time. Finally, he managed to squeeze through.

  In a few seconds he was across the courtyard and inside the house. He was brought up short by the sight of Barbara's body apparently pinned to the floor by a bed of steel spikes. As he gazed in horror there was a muffled cry from deeper within the building. Seizing Barbara by the arms he dragged her clear of the spikes and realised with relief that she was unharmed.

  The muffled cry rang out again.

  "In there, Ian,' gasped Bar
bara, pointing down the hall.

  Through the gloom Ian made out the door. It was locked. He took a run at it, splintering the lock and smashing through into the room beyond.

  On the far side of the room near a window a bearded old man was grappling with a mass of thick creepers entwined round his neck. The old man was blue in the face, in the last throes of consciousness. The room was full of plants. He seized a machete from a table and began hacking at the creepers around the old man. They thrashed violently from side to side like wounded animals before retreating through the broken window. Finally he managed to free the limp, moribund form and carry it gently to a bed in the corner.

  As Barbara appeared the old man lifted his drooping eyelids and addressed them in a faint murmur.

  "It's coming again... The jungle is coming. When you hear the whisper start, it's death, I tell you, death!' He gasped convulsively with the effort.

  Barbara noticed a deep wound at the side of his head. She quickly fetched water and a strip of old blanket from a nearby table and bound the wound.

  The old man was turning greyer by the minute.

  "I'm afraid he's dying,' she whispered.

  "He must have hit his head,' said Ian. "It's almost as if he was dragged over by the creeper.' He gazed around the room incredulously. The thought of the jungle being alive in that way defied all logic.

  The old man groaned and spoke. "You... should... not... stay here.'

  Ian knelt close to the old man's ear. "We came here for the micro-circuit,' he said urgently. "Do you understand me? Arbitan sent us here.'

  The name seemed to have an effect. The mouth twitched and the old man's eyes, misting fast, searched Ian's face eagerly.

  "Has... Arbitan... really sent someone... at last...?'

  "Yes.'

  "Outside on the idol... I put a false micro-key round its neck.'

  "I found it,' said Barbara softly.

  "I know... I have... a system of mirrors. When the false key was taken... I set all my traps in motion. Only those warned by Arbitan... could elude them.' The old man's body heaved and his eyes started to wander.

  "He's getting weaker all the time,' whispered Barbara. "If only I could do something for him. I feel so helpless.'

  "You must trust us,' said Ian. "Tell us where the key is.'

  The old man lifted a finger and beckoned.

  Ian put his ear close to the old man's lips. Barely audible, the old man whispered what sounded like a secret code. "... D... E... Three... O... Two...'

  "I don't understand,' said Ian. "What do you mean?'

  The old man was sinking fast. With a dying effort he pointed towards an inner door. "Quickly... darkness... The Whispering will start...'

  With a gasp the old man fell back against the pillow and died. Ian drew a blanket over the lifeless body.

  Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Barbara said, "He pointed to this door. What did the numbers and letters mean?'

  "Could be a combination to a safe. Let's see what we can find.' He crossed to the inner door and opened it.

  It led into a laboratory of some sort. Although over-grown and abandoned like the rest of the building there was evidence of scientific endeavour. Broken test-tubes lay scattered about the room, storage jars lined the walls, and a number of luxuriant plants filled one corner, specimens which had long since burst their containers. A boarded window, a filing cabinet, some chests of drawers, a bureau, and a large, steel safe completed the contents of the room.

  "You were right,' said Barbara, spotting the safe.

  "And a combination one at that,' replied Ian, examining it.

  "D... E... Three... O... Two,' repeated Barbara.

  "There are only letters on the dial. Perhaps the figures are the number of turns?' Ian turned the dial accordingly but it remained locked.

  "It's always possible he didn't mean the safe at all,' said Barbara. They decided to search the room. An hour later they had drawn a blank. During a pause Barbara said, "I've been trying to think back, Ian. What did he mean about “Darkness... the Whispering will start”?... Is that what Susan heard?'

  "I think he was rambling,' replied Ian, his nose in a thick, leather-bound book. "I'm hoping to find a lead in here. It's a diary of his experiments.'

  Barbara leaned back exhausted against a pile of papers. "What was he working on?'

  "As far as I can make out he'd developed a hormone treatment that could accelerate the growth of plants.' He read: "Nature has a fixed tempo of destruction. Water dripping on a stone may take a thousand years to pro-duce any sign of wear.'

  "That's not very original.'

  "It is if you could speed up the process. If the wear on the stone could be made in a day...'

  "But that's ridiculous.'

  "Well, he didn't seem to think so. He ends up by saying his growth accelerator has changed nature's tempo of destruction entirely.'

  "Fascinating,' said Barbara scrambling to her feet. She crossed to the window. "Quite dark outside now,' she remarked, peering through the cracks in the boarding. She returned to the table and selected a book. "Have you been through this one?' Ian shook his head. Barbara began leafing through it. For several minutes they both read in silence.

  The sound began softly at first, a gentle brushing against the side of the house.

  Ian felt his neck prickle. "What's that?'

  Barbara stared at him, suddenly pale.

  "It sounds like... like... whispering!' Her eyes widened. "He said it would come with the darkness. It's what Susan must have heard!'

  "But what's causing it?'

  "Sssh. Listen.'

  The noise was increasing, a scratching against the window and walls.

  "It sounds like something trying to get in.'

  "When we were outside you said that. About the jungle.'

  Barbara stared at him in disbelief. "But it couldn't...!'

  "Look!' Ian pointed to the window. A tendril was forcing its way in through a crack. The whispering in-creased. Barbara imagined the jungle outside coming alive; giant shoots forcing their way up through the floor; massive tree-trunks splitting and bursting as they towered high above the roof; waves of creepers dashing themselves against the side of the house, spilling in through every crack, ready to engulf them in a sea of green.

  "That's what he meant!' yelled Ian. "The tempo of destruction... Don't you see! Normally it would take fifty, even a hundred years for the jungle to overrun this place. Gradually it would encroach and finally swallow it up... now it's all accelerated!'

  "Then... then the jungleis attacking us...!'

  There was a terrific crack and a wooden board across the window was punched away. A large green tentacle snaked in and embedded itself in the far wall. Jars, books, equipment were hurled to the floor as more creepers invaded the room. The walls began to crack and move inwards. A thick creeper ensnared Barbara's ankle. Ian stumbled trying to free her. Struggling to his feet he noticed the label of a broken jar. It read: DE302.

  "Barbara! That's it! The key's in one of the jars!'

  The room was now filled with falling rubble which the threshing plants whipped up into a miniature storm. The walls had split into large fissures allowing the vegetation to flow unimpeded across the room. Suddenly Barbara gave a shout. Clawing through the jar, her fingers had closed on something flat and shiny. She drew it out. Covered in white powder but clearly visible was the key! The advancing foliage was about to smother them. Ian pointed wildly to his wrist. "Use the travel dial! Now!'

  As the waving creepers closed over them Barbara and Ian twisted the dials and vanished.

  Ian came to lying face down on a blanket of cold powder. A rivulet of water trickled slowly down his neck. He felt cold and stiff. He struggled to his knees and looked at his wrist. The travel dial was still there. He became conscious of small, white flakes on his skin. Snow. Where was he?

  He scrambled to his feet and glanced around. It was dark. Around him was an unbroken expanse of grey. A di
stant howling reached his ears. As his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he spied a body huddled awkwardly in the snow about twenty yards away.

  "Barbara!' She was blue with cold and too weak to move. The force of the travel mechanism, coupled with the cold, had numbed her senses. Ian gave her a shake. "Wake up, Barbara! We've got to move.'

  Barbara's eyelids flickered open. "I can't, I'm too cold...'

  "You've got to. Unless we find shelter, we don't stand a chance!' He somehow hoisted her to her feet and set off with her through the snow.

  A blizzard had risen and the wind cut into them like a knife. Barbara's thin cotton dress afforded no protection and Ian realised it would only be a matter of hours before they both died of exposure.

  Barbara suddenly slipped from his grasp. "It's no good, Ian... I can't... I'm so tired... sleep... I must sleep.'

  Ian shook her vigorously. "No, Barbara! We'll freeze to death.'

  But the life was ebbing from her body and she slid like a dead weight into the snow. Ian tried to lift her but he could feel his own strength draining away. To carry on alone would be to leave Barbara to certain death. He sank to the snow beside Barbara and huddled up close to give her what warmth and protection he could.

  Within a few minutes his limbs grew numb. He felt his will to live receding like a ghost into the surrounding darkness.

  7: The Snows of Terror

  Drugged with cold, Barbara's mind registered a far away sensation in her left side. She was being dug in the ribs by a hard boot. She opened her eyes. A coarse, hideous face hovered above her. She gave a start and the lumpen features split into a gap-toothed grin. The nightmarish apparition extended a fur-covered arm and touched Barbara's cheek. Overcome with shock, she slumped back into the snow.

  When Barbara regained consciousness the stranger was still peering down at her. He was a mountain of a man clothed in furs and tattered skins, like a Breughel peasant.

  "Don't be afraid,' he said gruffly.

  Barbara sat up. She was lying on a bare bunk covered with furs in what looked like a trapper's hut. Animal pelts were stretched across the walls. There was a single window with shutters and a main door barred and bolted. In the hearth a log fire burned brightly.