Read Doctor Who: Planet of Fire Online
Authors: Peter Grimwade,British Broadcasting Corporation
Tags: #Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
The Doctor merely glanced up from the pieces of Trion machinery that he was now reassembling. The Master’s TARDIS had materialised, just as he predicted, in the centre of the circle of volcanic fire. He turned to Peri.
‘When I give the word, push that control hard to the end stop.’ He pointed to a sliding lever on the console. ‘Now, get down behind the desk.’
Inside the chimney of fire, the Kamelion-Master stepped from the yellow TARDIS, the precious casket in his arms. He placed the reduced laboratory containing the injured Master in the centre of the grid and peered through the surrounding curtain of flame. The Doctor, he observed, was tampering with the seismic controls. ‘Get away from there, Doctor!’ he shouted.
Peri hugged the ground, her heart pounding, while the Doctor worked on, ignoring the orders from the corona.
‘I shan’t warn you again,’ cried the metal Master, raising the Tissue Compression Eliminator.
The Doctor seemed oblivious of the danger. ‘The Master can’t fire for fear of hitting the control system,’ he whispered to Peri.
‘He’s a robot,’ retorted the Doctor’s terrified assistant.
‘He’ll just walk through the flames.’
‘I hope so,’ replied the Doctor. ‘This device will only work at close range.’
‘I’ve warned you,’ called the angry robot again. He peered at the Doctor. The meddling Time Lord must not be allowed to tamper with the gas flow to the corona. The Kamelion-Master stepped forward to pass unscathed through the cordon of flame. He laughed. It seemed that the Doctor had forgotten his durability.
‘He’s coming,’ hissed Peri.
‘Keep down,’ whispered the Doctor, as the facsimile Master walked slowly towards the desk. The black-suited robot chuckled. The moment of his supreme triumph would be enhanced by the elimination of the Doctor and that girl.
‘Now!’ shouted the Doctor, leaping from behind the desk with the hastily rigged weapon in his arms.
Peri jumped up from her hiding place and pushed up the slider. There was a high-pitched whine and the Kamelion-Time Lord uttered a terrible scream, half in the strangled voice of the Master and half with the tortured metal larynx of the automaton. The black suit and the evil features flared a dazzling silver while the arms of the creature flailed in a rabid death throe. Slowly the writhing shape became the robotic Kamelion. The vibrating machine-man collapsed to the floor.
‘He’s trying to say something,’ said Peri, coming out of hiding.
The Doctor leaned over the palpitating factotum.
‘Kamelion... sorry... no good,’ announced the dying robot.
‘I’m sorry, too,’ said the Doctor sadly.
‘Destroy me, please!’ begged Kamelion.
‘Get back!’ yelled the Doctor to Peri as he picked up the Tissue Compression Eliminator that had been flung to the ground. He raised the black tube and pressed the activator, whereupon an orange glow concealed the master of disguise. The light dimmed, and the prodigy of Xeriphas was no more. A mere nugget lay, like a twisted tin soldier, on the empty floor.
Kamelion had been eliminated.
Amyand staggered up the steps of the Hall of Fire, utterly exhausted. The thermal suit had proved remarkably light in view of the degree of protection it provided as he walked, unscathed, through the fiercest flames, but it was a pity he couldn’t get rid of it as soon as he left the danger area. The catch on the helmet had stuck and he needed outside help before he could shed his silver skin.
Time had been no sign of life as he entered the city and it was a great relief to discover Turlough, still in the Hall of Fire, arguing with Timanov and a group of Elders.
‘We’re running out of time. You must leave for the landing ground!’ Turlough’s voice came, loud and clear, through the electronic ears of the helmet.
‘Leave us in peace. We wish to end our days in the settlement. Strong in the faith.’ Timanov was proving as intractable as ever.
‘I order you!’ cried the new Chosen One.
Timanov smiled proudly. ‘Order the citizens as you will.
I shall stay here and die with the Fire Lord.’
The old men turned towards the lumbering Amyand, who was about to ask Turlough to release him, when he noticed the look of rapturous awe on the face of the Elders.
‘Logar!’ cried Timanov ecstatically, flinging himself, with the other men, prostrate on the floor in front of the disguised heretic.
Amyand realised that he must look exactly like the young vulcanologist who had appeared to Timanov as a young man–he was probably wearing the self same suit. He was about to ask Turlough to release him when he saw the boy’s frantic gestures. He smiled as he realised what was expected of him. ‘Go to the landing stage!’ His booming voice, relayed from the microphone in the helmet, echoed round the ancient Trion spa. ‘It is the will of Lugar!’
thundered the
deus ex machina
.
The transceiver the Doctor had tried to repair chose that moment to crackle into life. ‘This is Trion space carrier two zero fifty, Captain Lomand commanding. On final approach to Sarn.’
Clutching their pathetic little bundles, the people of Sam waited beside the ruin where the Doctor’s TARDIS had first materialised. They cowered as they heard the roar, believing that the mountain, once more, was pouring out its fire. The noise grew unbearable, and the citizens feared that the earth itself might open up to swallow them, when they saw the great bird loom from the dark clouds.
The Trion ship had already landed by the time Turlough and Amyand arrived at the ruin. Turlough could see Captain Lomand talking to Sorasta while his crew began to organise the embarkation. The renegade ensign ran to the Doctor’s TARDIS, clutching the temporal limiter he had just been given by Amyand. He hoped that no one would spot him, for with the Doctor stranded in the seismic control centre, there was no time for explanations.
It took him only a few moments to slip the limiter back into its housing. There was no need to set the co-ordinates as the remote parallel function, programmed by Kamelion, would materialise the police box beside the Master’s TARDIS in the cavern.
Turlough became aware of someone behind him.
Finishing his work, he turned to the doors where a man in a grey uniform was watching him.
‘It’s customary to salute a senior officer, Turlough,’ said Captain Lomand.
Turlough felt a surge of hatred for the Trion commander who had followed him into the control room.
This would be one of the new breed of upstart officers who had hounded his father to death.
‘Still running away?’ said his fellow Trion.
Turlough glanced at Lomand. The man should know that an Imperial Clansman does not run away. ‘If I was running away I would hardly have asked for a ship from Trion,’ he answered coldly, activating the controls. He walked to the door and turned for one last look round the console room before addressing the Captain of the rescue ship. ‘The TARDIS is on a time-delayed take-off. We have fifteen seconds to get clear.’
Peri watched the embarkation on the screen of the seismic control desk. ‘Now that’s what I call a space ship.’ She pointed to the huge Trion vessel beside the ruin.
‘Not much use to us,’ replied the Doctor, without taking his eyes of the gauges on the console. ‘The only way out of here is by TARDIS.’ He glanced hopefully at the space where the police box should materialise. ‘Come on, Turlough,’ he whispered nervously, for time was running out. Nothing would hold back the surge of numismaton and the subsequent destruction of Sarn. Nor was there any way of preventing the renaissance of the Master, who lay secure in his laboratory, guarded on all sides by the impenetrable flame, and waiting for the healing vapour.
The cave began to tremble; pale smoke, smelling of joss filled the air. An ethereal singing came from the corona: and the flame around the Master’s casket turned blue.
‘It’s the surge!’ cried Peri.
Another blue miasma began to form beside the control desk. ‘Well done, Turlough!’ shouted the Doctor, as his TARDIS materialised. He pushed the young American towards the safety of the police box and turned to face his adversary, alone.
The pale blue phosphorescence played around the box in the corona. The head of the growing Master appeared like the rising sun over the wall, laughing with exhilaration as he felt the strength flow into him. The Doctor stared, appalled, at the evil genius rising from the cabinet. The Master saw his old enemy watching him. ‘I shall come from this fire a thousand times more strong,’ he cried. ‘To hound you, Doctor, to the borders of the Universe!’
The Doctor was trembling. He peered anxiously at the control desk and back at the fiend who continued to grow inside the corona.
There was another confident, mocking laugh from the Master–and then a gasp. The blue of the numismaton was suddenly flecked with red and yellow. The Time Lord’s leering smile twisted to a grimace. He screamed with pain.
‘Cancel the reinjection immediately!’
The Doctor did not move.
The Master struggled to escape the flame, but could not stir from the corona. ‘Doctor!’ he howled. ‘I will plague you for the rest of time for this...Agh!’ A blood-curdling scream echoed round the cavern. The agonised Master stretched out his hands towards his enemy. ‘Help me, Doctor, and I will give you anything in Creation!’
Every instinct in the Doctor urged him to cut the calorific gas he had fed back into the numismaton. He had never before wilfully inflicted such pain on another living creature, nor ever would again. In those dreadful moments, the Doctor suffered with his fellow Time Lord all the tortures of the damned.
‘Please, Doctor!’ The Master was weaker now. ‘Pity me?’
The Doctor just stared into the flames.
The fire turned to sheer white, and, with a final withering scream, the Master disappeared from view.
The Doctor walked slowly across to his police box.
Black smoke filled the cavern and lava began to seep through the cracking floor, as the TARDIS dematerialised.
‘You okay, Doctor?’
The Doctor leaned trembling on the control room console. He turned, ashen, to the thoughtless girl. ‘Do you realise what I’ve just had to do?’ He checked himself as he saw her vulnerable, concerned face.
‘Yes, of course I’m...
okay
.’ He grinned. ‘Where’s Turlough?
‘Didn’t show.’
The Doctor nodded and began to set the co-ordinates for the ruin.
The volcano was surrounded with fire. Lava poured from its sides and would soon engulf the city.
Turlough stood with his brother beside Captain Lomand, watching the last of the citizens file into the transporter. ‘Am I under arrest?’ he asked the officer.
‘Do you want to be?’ said the commander.
Turlough was hopelessly confused. Was the man tying to make a fool of him? Captain Lomand smiled. ‘Things have changed on Trion since the days of the Imperial Clans. We no longer persecute our political opponents.
You are welcome to return...’ He looked across to where the blue time-machine was reforming beside the ruin. ‘Or not, as you please.’
‘Embarkation complete, sir,’ shouted one of the crew.
Lomand glanced at the Fire Mountain. ‘Time we were gone.’
Turlough looked towards the Doctor who had just opened the door of the old police box. ‘Please, Turlough!’
pleaded his new-found brother.
‘Malkon, you board,’ said Turlough. ‘Go on!’ he shouted and ran to the TARDIS.
‘Do you need someone to put in a good word for you?’
asked the Doctor, kindly.
The young Trion shook his head. ‘My exile has been rescinded.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’
Across the open space, Captain Lomand stood patiently beside the ship’s ramp.
‘I shall miss you,’ said the Doctor.
‘I don’t want to go,’ said his friend. ‘I’ve learned so much. But there’s Malkon... And I’ve got to return some day.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Better go back while you’re a bit of a hero.’
Turlough smiled at Peri who had appeared in the doorway behind the Doctor. The cheery American would make an admirable companion. ‘Look after him. He gets in the most terrible trouble.’
Turlough grasped the Doctor’s hand. ‘Thanks for everything.’ He turned and walked smartly across to the waiting transporter. He paused for a moment, and looked back. Then, without a wave, he strode up the ramp and was gone.