Doctor Who

by David Solomons

  There was a millisecond pause as the Curatrix accessed the most up-to-date records in the database. ‘There are eight-hundred-and-thirty billion varieties of plant in seed form stored in this facility.’

  ‘And how many individual vaults?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  In the corner of the room the beetle began tap-tapping one leg on the floor in a broken rhythm. Yaz studied it carefully. She didn’t know anything about giant beetle body language, but she’d had enough experience of interviewing petty criminals to know that it was guilty about something.

  Muttering to herself, the Doctor resumed her circling, deep in thought. A few seconds later, she came to a sudden stop, clapping her hands together.

  ‘Can you show me a schematic of the seed vault?’ she asked the Curatrix, who instantly produced a layout of the facility on screen.

  The Doctor cast her eyes over the blueprint and shook her head. ‘Nothing. Show me an older plan.’

  ‘That is the oldest in my records,’ the Curatrix replied.

  In the silence that followed the only sound was the nervous tap-tap of the beetle’s leg.

  The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘But is it?’ She whipped out her sonic screwdriver and, activating it, swept the device across the Curatrix. ‘Apologies for this, but I don’t think you can voluntarily tell me what I need to know.’

  The generated image of the Curatrix flickered and changed. The stern-looking humanoid woman disappeared. Only an outline remained, containing hundreds of lines of scrolling computer code.

  ‘Unauthorised access attempt,’ announced the Curatrix’s voice. ‘Unauthorised access att–’ The Curatrix broke off, and when it spoke again the voice was the same, but the message had altered. ‘Access granted.’

  ‘Show me the original seed vault plans,’ the Doctor instructed.

  There was a short delay before a new layout appeared. Strikingly different from the previous set, these plans were displayed on yellowing parchment and appeared to be hand-drawn, like something Leonardo da Vinci might have included in one of his notebooks.

  ‘What, exactly, are you looking for?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘The rose garden’s prophecy was accurate, but the Gardeners misinterpreted the message.’ Holding her sonic like a pointer, the Doctor indicated a portion of the plan. ‘Count them: ten, eleven, twelve…thirteen.’ She zoomed in. ‘You see, the number in the garden didn’t refer to me. It’s the thirteenth vault. Not found on any other plan.’

  ‘A secret vault!’ Yaz realised. ‘Cool.’

  ‘And I’d bet a box of the finest Judoon chocolates that’s where we’ll discover the true target of this attack.’

  The image flickered again and the Curatrix reappeared, refilling the outline. ‘Impossible,’ it said. ‘I have no knowledge of a thirteenth vault.’

  The Doctor tutted. ‘But the Gardeners do. Now, what could possibly be in there that the creators of this place didn’t want even their guardian AI to know about? Unless, that is, you’re not the only guardian…’ She swung round to peer at the beetle.

  ‘Doctor,’ said a voice full of hisses and clicks.

  It took Yaz a moment to realise she hadn’t heard the voice out loud, but in her head. It was another second before she understood it was coming from the beetle.

  The insect’s mandibles clicked furiously. ‘Thirteen must be contained.’

  The transport capsule lifted off with the beetle in the front.

  Yaz pulled her coat around her and felt the solid shape of her thermos flask in the inside pocket. As much as she could have done with one right now, there wasn’t time for a cup of tea. She and the Doctor found handrails to cling on to, as the creature wheeled the vessel tightly round then blasted on through the connecting tunnel and into the adjoining seed vault.

  ‘Doctor,’ Yaz said. ‘I heard it…in my mind. Was that telepathy?’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Quite common among insectoid races. They tend to operate as a hive mind, communicating as one. Can be rather tiresome, to be honest. You get to hear a lot of chatter about compound eyes and larvae and who has the shiniest wings. This one seems perfectly adapted to its environment, though. My guess is it was engineered by the Gardeners who created the vault to be part of the whole system.’

  The beetle steered them back through the twisting network of tunnels, passing through eleven more vaults, before nudging the transport capsule towards a solid wall that rose up before them, as unforgiving as a cliff face.

  Yaz didn’t disguise her alarm. ‘Uh, what is it doing?’

  ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ the Doctor reassured her. ‘I memorised the layout. That’s not a solid wall, just a mirage.’

  ‘Okay.’ Yaz relaxed, but only for an instant as the Doctor went on.

  ‘However, it’s almost certainly a holographic shield wall. The wrong approach path – even by a millimetre – and ka-blammo! The trick to passing through one of these things safely is to hit it at just the right angle and velocity.’

  ‘Don’t say “hit it”,’ Yaz pleaded.

  The nose of the transport capsule reared up, as the beetle wrenched the controls to one side then poured on the power. Suddenly they were upside down. Yaz felt her last meal make a dash for the exit, but the manoeuvre didn’t seem to affect the Doctor at all.

  ‘Killer bit of flying,’ she said admiringly. ‘A barrel roll. The Red Baron taught me how to do one. Not as easy as it looks.’

  Still upside down, the transport capsule dived towards the wall. At the very last second, as the extremely solid-looking obstruction filled her vision, Yaz squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact.

  None came.

  When Yaz opened her eyes again, she could see nothing for a moment but shapes in the darkness. Then, long-dormant bioluminescent lighting flickered into life at the arrival of the visitors.

  The thirteenth vault lay before them.

  The beetle set the transport capsule down next to a small pool. By the time Yaz had collected herself following the roller-coaster ride, the Doctor and the telepathic insect had already exited the capsule and she had to hurry after them.

  This vault was half the size of the others, a forgotten cave lined not with towering pillars but with grey trees sculpted from solid rock. From unbending branches hung clusters of the same glass spheres she’d seen elsewhere. The cave looked like it should have been dank and musty, but a mysterious breeze moved the orbs in the trees, causing them to clink against one another like wind chimes.

  ‘The Curatrix governs everything you have seen, except for this one chamber,’ said the beetle. ‘It cannot exist here. I am the Attendant, and the thirteenth vault is my domain. I am as much a part of this place as the rocks and earth.’

  ‘You guard the thirteenth vault?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘I tend it. This vault contains the most highly prized seeds in the Galactic Seed Vault’s collection.’ It scuttled over to the nearest tree. ‘Take this doppelpod from the planet Aether. Able to protect itself by mimicking the form of any predator that breathes on it. Or this Venusian gulper.’ With a segmented limb, it indicated an orb above Yaz. ‘Once the germination process begins, it is merely a matter of minutes before the plant achieves full growth. Remarkable life form.’

  Yaz was struck by the Attendant’s enthusiasm. She peered up at the orb containing the Venusian gulper, fascinated.

  The Doctor snapped her fingers. ‘That’s the one that consumes its prey whole and digests it over a period of several months, right?’

  Yaz backed away from the orb quickly.

  The Attendant made a sound halfway between a hiss and a sigh. ‘It is true that some unenlightened creatures would call the contents of this vault…dangerous.’ Its tone altered. ‘But there exists just one seed in the universe that truly deserves that description.’

  The beetle turned its head to gaze across the pool. There, set into a flat section of rock, was a sm
all wooden door.

  What could possibly be worse than that Venusian gulper? Yaz wondered.

  The Doctor skirted the pool to stand in front of the door, then studied it in silence. It was constructed from stout oak planks, darkened with age, their surface filled with black metal studs. The door was surrounded by a stone arch, and two large leaf-shaped hinges secured it to the frame. There was no visible lock, only a sturdy metal ring at waist height.

  The Doctor reached out, but as her hand neared the ring it slowed, as if it was suddenly moving through water. No matter how long she persisted, she just couldn’t seem to get her hand any closer.

  She glanced at the pool.

  Yaz followed her gaze, and for the first time noticed the ripples in the water. They were still, as if someone had dropped a pebble in the centre of the pool and then time itself had stopped.

  The Doctor’s eyes widened minutely, and she began to babble. ‘So that’s what the Time Lords were doing here. It’s one of Zeno’s paralocks.’

  As usual, Yaz felt herself playing catch-up. ‘Doctor, who is –’

  ‘Zeno was a Time Lord who hypothesised one of the most secure locking mechanisms in the universe. It was rumoured that he built three examples – the paralocks – but I’ve never come across any of them. Until now.’ She paused, contemplating the door. ‘You see, between us and this door lies the most impenetrable substance imaginable: time. Years of the stuff. Aeons. You could try for as long as you liked to grasp that handle, but you’d never close the gap.’ She joggled her head, revising her statement. ‘Well, technically speaking, you would eventually get there, but you’d have to stand here for about sixteen billion years.’

  ‘What’s inside there that needs to be protected behind all that time?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘The first seed in the collection,’ said the Attendant. ‘The most terrifyingly beautiful thing you will ever behold.’

  ‘And why would we be beholding it?’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Because the noughtweed that has ravaged the other vaults is coming here.’

  ‘But it won’t get in,’ said Yaz. ‘Not for sixteen billion years, you said.’

  ‘I’m afraid it won’t take that long,’ said the Doctor. ‘The problem with Zeno’s paralocks is that they aren’t as impenetrable as he theorised. Remember that diagram of the noughtweed’s structure that the Curatrix showed us? It showed that the Gardeners had modified the plant with a time propagator. Once that weed’s at the door, I estimate it will cut through the paralock in fewer than forty-eight hours.’

  ‘But can’t we stop it?’ said Yaz. ‘I mean, if it’s a weed, isn’t there some kind of intergalactic weedkiller we can spray on it?’

  The Attendant’s mandibles wobbled, which Yaz took to be the equivalent of shaking its head. ‘The Curatrix was right. You cannot save the Galactic Seed Vault. Its destruction is inevitable. But, when the seed vault falls, what lies behind this door must be gone from here. If not, the consequences will be apocalyptic.’

  ‘And why, exactly?’ the Doctor asked.

  The Attendant clicked softly, its mandibles fluttering. ‘The universe is a garden that has been growing for tens of billions of years and, like everything that grows, one day it will wither and die. When that time comes, it is said that the First Gardener will return to re-seed the darkness with life, using the single seed that she locked behind this door. She named it the Genesis Seed. The one you know as Nightshade believes that now is the time for the universe to be renewed, that “the soil must be turned”. If he secures the Genesis Seed before we do…’ The beetle’s voice trailed off, as if it was too horrified to finish. It paused before continuing. ‘The Genesis Seed was never meant to be used on an inhabited universe. You, Doctor, must remove the seed to a safe place – or all life will be wiped out.’

  Yaz reeled at the Attendant’s words. It was asking them to prevent the end of the universe. The responsibility was incomprehensible. She studied the Doctor for her reaction. Presented with a mission of such magnitude, most people would resist the call, others would point-blank refuse, and the rest would at least question their role. But the Doctor wasn’t other people, and Yaz knew that she had already accepted the task. Even in a universe clouded with uncertainty, the Doctor seemed to always instinctively know the right thing to do. Sure, that usually involved hurling herself and her companions into unfathomable danger, but that kind of went with the territory.

  ‘So how do we get in then?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘A key,’ said the Doctor. ‘The right key will pass straight through the time barrier and fit the lock.’ She peered closely at the door. ‘Where is the lock?’

  ‘It will appear when you have all the keys,’ said the Attendant. ‘There are three.’

  ‘Aha. And I’m guessing they’re not hanging on one of those little hooks on your kitchen dresser? No!’ She suddenly slapped her head. ‘Of course! Where is the dresser? That is the question. Somewhere far, far away from this door, naturally. Do you follow?’

  ‘Um, not really,’ said Yaz.

  The Doctor sighed impatiently. ‘The Time Lords who helped the First Gardener didn’t just instal the paralock. They also scattered the keys throughout space and time.’

  The Attendant nodded. ‘In order to open the door, all three keys must be retrieved and turned simultaneously.’

  ‘Oh, this is brilliant.’ The Doctor clapped her hands together gleefully. ‘I haven’t had to collect a set of apocalypse-averting keys for ages. Three should be simple enough. Last time it was one, but in six pieces.’ She struck off towards the transport capsule. ‘Well, what are we waiting for? When the noughtweed reaches this vault, we’ll only have forty-eight hours left to find those keys and get back here. I’ve always found that earth hours are the best for countdowns. Those final seconds make a lovely ticking sound.’

  They rounded the pool, but hadn’t gone far when there was a movement in the shield wall. It shimmered, as a second transport capsule glided through and circled the vault.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Yaz.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the Doctor. ‘But something tells me they aren’t here to deliver pizza.’

  The capsule touched down in the centre of the vault, in a small clearing among the stone trees. The side hatch opened, and two familiar figures climbed out.

  ‘Ryan! Graham!’ Yaz ran delightedly towards them, then stopped. They were not alone.

  From behind them strode three armoured Gardeners. Soldiers, judging by their appearance. Well, foot soldiers compared with the fourth figure who swaggered out of the capsule, and paused to survey the vault. He carried himself with a high-and-mighty air, as if years ago his dad had taken him aside, looked out over the world and said, ‘One day, son, all this will be yours,’ and today was that day.

  There was no doubt in Yaz’s mind. This was Deadly Nightshade.

  ‘You two okay?’ she called out.

  ‘He took my car without asking and pranged it at McDonald’s,’ replied Graham.

  ‘Seriously, get over it,’ grumbled Ryan.

  Yaz smiled, relieved to hear them arguing. ‘Not sure you should be admitting to vehicular theft in front of a police officer.’

  Nightshade adjusted his gloves, fitting them to his fingers before reaching into a holster and producing a stubby weapon. ‘Kill them,’ he commanded.

  ‘Gotta respect that in a villain,’ said the Doctor, pulling Yaz and the Attendant behind one of the stone trees and out of the firing line. ‘No chat, just straight down to business.’

  There was a whip crack, and the Gardeners’ weapons shot out lengths of sticky vines. They flew across the vault, landing short of their targets. They lay still for a moment, then slithered towards the tree sheltering the three of them. One vine wrapped itself round Yaz’s ankle, then writhed up her body to coil round her neck. To her horror, it began to squeeze.

  Meanwhile, the Doctor and the Atte
ndant were similarly tied up. The Doctor was wrestling with the bulging vine pressed to her throat, while the stricken beetle attempted to use its claws to snip its way free.

  Yaz felt the vine’s grip tighten on her throat. Any second now, she’d black out and that would be the end. She flung herself at the stone tree, hitting it with enough force to shake the branches. Two seed jars fell to the ground, and one shattered, exposing the seed within to the cold air. Gasping now, Yaz reached inside her coat and felt for the solid form of the thermos flask. With trembling fingers, she unscrewed the lid and upended the contents over the fallen seed.

  The effect was instant. It was like watching a time-lapse from a nature documentary. Before her eyes, the seed germinated in seconds, sprouted, then grew into a fully fledged plant. Within a spiral of tough green leaves pulsed a flower like a fat red tongue edged with dozens of needles, the gleaming points oozing with sap. It was the plant the Attendant had pointed out earlier: the Venusian gulper.

  Yaz grasped one end of the vine that was choking her, and shoved it at the gulper’s licking tongue. Sensing the presence of food, the plant sunk a row of needles into the vine. Yaz immediately felt its grip slacken. The gulper’s red tongue darted out, and with a great sucking noise it consumed the vine like a strand of spaghetti.

  Yaz took a deep breath of the cold vault air, then raced to help the others. The Attendant had already chopped its attacker into pieces, which twitched on the ground for a second or two before withering into ashes. The Doctor, however, was staggering about, hands tearing at the tenacious shoot choking her. Yaz manoeuvred her towards the still-hungry gulper, and it immediately sucked down the hapless vine.

  The Doctor studied the gulper warily. ‘Back away. It should be about ready for another growth spurt.’

  ‘You mean it isn’t fully grown?’

  No sooner had Yaz asked the question than the gulper’s stem erupted like a magic beanstalk. Within seconds, the plant had reached the height of the stone trees, sprouting leaves and more tongue-like flowers as it grew. Hungry to feed its rapid growth, the pulsing tongues searched for food.